Spinning the Black Circle

Surprised that I am not closer to the required eight semester posts for the semester--I'm not counting my video essay or first (test) post--I am going to do some quick hit posts that explore an idea or curio that interests me. First up: vinyl. Or, the black circle:



Using Pearl Jam, one of my favorite groups of all time, as the catalyst I'll note that I've recently (and again) become re-acquainted and interested in those big floppy discs o' music. I grew up with a record player, and my father's fairly ample, eclectic musical collection, which entertained me endless while I wrote and read. Recently, I've gotten back into vinyl at its demands that you attend to it have been a welcome distraction from all the writing the end of the semester requires.

This Pearl Jam song, "Spin the Black Circle," comes off their phenomenal album Vitalogy (1994), and is lyrically worth considering in light of my new-found interest in this aural delight:

"See this needle...a see my hand...
Drop, drop, dropping it down...oh, so gently...
Well here it comes...I touch the plane...
Turn me up...won't turn you away...

Spin, spin...spin the black circle
Spin, spin...spin the black, spin the black...
Spin, spin...spin the black circle
Spin, spin...whoa...

Pull it out...a paper sleeve...
Oh, my joy...only you deserve conceit...
I'm so big...a-my whole world...
I'd rather you...rather you...than her...

Spin, spin...spin the black circle
Spin, spin...spin the black, spin the black...
Spin, spin...spin the black circle
Spin, spin...whoa...oh...

You're so warm...oh, the ritual...when I lay down your crooked arm...

Spin, spin...spin the black circle
Spin, spin...spin the black, spin the black...
Spin, spin...spin the black circle
Spin, spin...
Spin the black circle
Spin the black circle...
Spin, spin...
Spin, spin..."

The kind of giddy excitement--not to mention the drug and sexual references--help explain the kind of delights vinyl can elicit in the audiophile. The first passage, with its clear drug references of needle in hand (thinking Neil Young's "The Needle and the Damage Done") and its gentle delivery explains the textile joy--greatly lost in the album download or purchase and loading of a CD into a car system--vinyl allows. Similarly, referencing the sexual elements of the song (warmth, crooked arm, "pull it out") and the decidedly gendered yet ambiguous desire* ("rather you than her"), there is a love associated with vinyl: you have to come to it, pull it out of a case, place it down, lift up the needle, set down the needle, and then, after a brief respite, repeat the process all over again. Vinyl truly caters to those who cater to music (coddle it, fetishize it, adore it), which is not to suggest that those who merely download music here and there are incapable of truly appreciating music. That's called elitism.

That said, I can't help but (somewhat) find myself falling into harboring those associations with many contemporary music fans, and mainly because I found myself--when just downloading music (not really when purchasing a CD)--skipping from track to track before even a first listen of the entire album. I have always been a huge purchaser of music because I love to pour over the artwork and lyrics (or not) of an album; I find myself assessing an album on all parts, which explains why I dig Cultural Studies. Also as a "music journalist" (which I don't know why I feel so strangely about labeling myself, as anyone who interviews bands and writes music pieces for money should proudly own up to the title) music has been more than just background noise or a passing interest.

A friend recently suggested that vinyl is the ultimate compromise in our complicated, commodified music structure. New albums often come with the download code, sating our need to take our music with us, and since CDs are notoriously no better in sound quality than vinyl (nor even cassettes), it reinvests music with its appropriate aural integrity. I think it does help foster some elitist feelings--in fact, I know it--but, critical faculties be damned, I can't help myself; appropriately, I'm hooked. In meantime I have to go flip over my Red Foxx album, excuse me...


* I say ambiguous because the record unlike "her" is not gendered; granted, if I had to guess, I'm thinking Eddie Vedder is looking to connect the album with the female.