Is there anything more ironic than the popularity of the vinyl revolution among millennials? This is the generation that prides itself on being the most advanced and technologically savvy one ever in history. The same folks that eschew "ancient" things like the telephone (you're actually calling me? How rude!) and think growing a beard and donning new $250 Blundstones is an instant way to become a bonafide hunk of a male specimen (I also eat a lot of bacon, you know).
One would logically think that millennials would similarly frown upon old music technology like the turntable, but oh no. What a twist! Who could have predicted how much 20 to 30 somethings have a love affair with vinyl - or as many of us old curmudgeons used to know them - as plain ol' records. Yes, records. Anyone over 40 grew up knowing them as records: those stacks of plastic discs that used to lay in piles in everyone's shag-carpeted living room.
Of course, we all turfed records for the more advanced technology that came after. Like cassettes in the 1980s (WTF were we thinking there?), and again in the 1990s with compact discs (why do they make me think of Brian "the Boz" Bozworth's hair). Vinyl had a rough go in those years, much like Pamela Anderson. Everyone wanted her when she was in her prime, but the years that followed were not kind. Other, younger women (also with more advanced technological features) came along and stole away the attention.
But vinyl bucked the trend, and came back in popularity in the 2000s. First signs were when people started scooping up old Zeppelin and Floyd records at yard sales. Then came parties where people dropped the needle on bad ass funk LPs to the delight of tipsy dancing white girls everywhere. All of a sudden, brawls began to break out at Value Village over who got to score crappy LPs of progressive rock bands like Alan Parsons Project. Who'd have thunk that by the mid-2010s, people would be paying $15 for scratched up a Harry Chapin record at a dedicated store? Yes, that same record we were so happy to give away or throw around as Frisbees at one time.
Enter Ditch Records.
Ditch epitomizes everything wrong with the current vinyl craze. And I don't mean to denigrate vinyl as a format for listening to music. It's pretty clear that it is a unique listening experience that isn't captured by CDs or MP3s. Superior in some ways for sure. But the vinyl craze has gotten ridiculous.
When you peruse the aisles at Ditch it becomes painfully clear that it's now about the music anymore. The band does not matter either, nor whether the music is any good. Rather, if it's vinyl, it has to be good. Or so it would seem. And the more obscure the record, the better. This is the philosophy behind Ditch. Overpriced markups on mediocre quality records? Check. Snooty customer service courtesy toque-adorned millennials? Roger that. Dirty looks if you ask for music from a band that isn't cool? Well, that depends, as "cool" can change by the week (this week Roger Whitaker's early stuff is mad hot). Who knew that my old French 10 teacher who loved those records was such a hipster music visionary?
Honestly, I'd like Ditch a lot more if the prices weren't so ridiculously high across the board. I think most stuff is marked up about 30% higher than what they should be. Especially for the crappy stuff. Pricing so high for records that were never good in the first place just makes the whole vinyl thing ridiculous. It makes me wonder if this is about music at all, or just a millennial-fuelled fad.
I couldn't care less if they want to charge big dollar for vintage classic rock, but let's keep prices real for the less-than-collectible vinyl. For this reason, you may want to ditch the Ditch for a more down-to-earth record shop in town, like the Turntable. The prices for that rare pressing may not be much better, but at least you will come away feeling like it is somehow more worth it. read more
