But I don’t own a record player.
Why then, you ask? Fair question.
So, I was out listening to live music recently—at none other than Vinyl in Midtown—and initially, I bought the record of the opener for the eye-catching cover. The artwork even received accolades from my 7 year old as well as the cashier where I bought the frame for it. Lacey Elkin, the artist, has secured a place on my stairwell wall to bring me yet another ounce of joy each time I look at it… that joy that comes from discovering something that you connect with.
I went out to hear live music. I came home with artwork. And a small bucket of new discoveries.
I arrived at Vinyl during Drew Tham’s opening act and was busier settling in and saying hello to friends than listening to the music. Don’t get me wrong, I liked what I was hearing; I just hadn’t made the transition from a hectic day to being fully present with the music. By the time I really tuned in, Drew was off stage, and the feature band was setting up.
During the break, I walked over to say hello to Drew. He is one-third of the folk rock trio, The Liquorsmiths, and he won me over. His genre of music is not typically my first choice. But after his set, he mixed and mingled at the table where he was selling his albums. He shared his stories and music on stage and off.
So here I sit, typing away, listening to his EP, “This Book Belongs To,”—the digital version, of course, absent a way to play the vinyl—and I find myself connecting to his music. Why? Because I discovered Drew while sipping on a drink, laughing about trying to track down our friend’s phone that he left in an Uber on the way to the show, and unconsciously mouthing lyrics that I learned moments before.
Live music is discovery.
When you step back and consider all of the creative elements that go into a live music event to bring that one night together, it’s art in all of its forms. It’s the musicians and connecting with others. The vibe of the venue. It’s discovery of a lyric in a song that hits a nerve. It’s a night out to break the routine. Visual and auditory stimulation. It makes you wish you could sing or play the guitar. You may regret quitting music lessons. It uncovers likes and dislikes. It makes your favorite beer taste better than it does drinking it on the couch watching Netflix. It’s therapy and spice. And if you’re really lucky, it’s a take-home piece of artwork for your wall.
The album sleeve is hanging in a frame, and the vinyl is resting on the kitchen table. Yeah, it’s time to stop by Mojo Vinyl in Roswell and invest in that record player.
What will you discover this weekend?