My introduction to recorded music
Do you by any chance remember vinyl records? Of course you do, especially if you are already in your eighties or approaching them. I was given a few of these, through which I was introduced to famous classical piano works, my mother being a piano teacher who expected me to follow in the footsteps of such keyboard giants as Paderewski, Horowitz and Rubenstein. Unfortunately my appreciation of the music of great performers and composers far outstripped my ability to perform.
My father’s modest collection of vinyl records comprised a few Hebrew melodies, two of which I remember for their stirring lyrics. One was about a group of five Chalutzim who set out to build a settlement in the desert. They are mown down by a hail of bullets but five others promptly step forward to take their place. Another was a more upbeat song about boats sailing in the distance, with sailors singing joyfully about the construction of a new harbour. “Anu chofshim et ha-chof ve-ha-gal,/ Anu bonim po namal, po namal” (‘We love the shore and the waves/ We are building a harbour here”).
A third song, “Ve-ulai” (‘And perhaps’) had a dirge like melody but I have completely forgotten the message of the song. What stays with me is only the image of my father, listening to it with a mournful expression.
Vinyl records, when placed on a turntable, spun round at the dizzying speed of 78 rpm but I soon discovered that they could be slowed down by the application of a stubby finger to produce haunting sound effects. Years later, some bright sparks figured out that if you slow the speed down to a constant speed, say 45 rpm or even 33 1/3 rpm you can fit more music onto the record. I could have told them that, but nobody asked me.
Unfortunately, vinyl also warps easily, which makes the record wobble, thereby diminishing the quality of the sound produced. And if a vinyl record is dropped from a height, it cracks like a porcelain jug dropped onto a marble floor, immediately rendering it ‘hors d’combat’.
Another hazard is that the music is sometimes marred by crackling sounds reminiscent of the crackle made by a well known breakfast cereal when the milk is being poured onto it. But worse still is the occasional click, like a hiccup, which sends the music into a frenzy of repetition until some kind soul lifts the needle out of its errant groove and moves it on a few bars.
You will rightly infer that my vinyl collection had a very short lifespan, and in fact the days of vinyl recordings in general were numbered. These days, you can summon up any piece of music you desire at the mere touch of a computer keyboard. Which reminds me of a joke: a collector of rare items wrote in to a newspaper with the following enquiry: “Dear Editor, I have in my possession a flat, shiny, circular disc with a small hole at its centre. Is this a record?”
