“Buy CDs,” proclaims Gen Xer, shaking his fist at the sky

Hi, I’m Matt, and welcome to Steady Beats. If you like to walk for a better life, and also like Dire Straits’ “Walk of Life,” you just might like this newsletter.

You know those people who boldly proclaim, chin jutting out, back ramrod straight, that they have no regrets?

They are lying. 

We’ve all got something we’d do differently. Currently, I’m rectifying a minor regret of my own–and it’s creating new benefits. 

The year is 2015. My family is moving. We’ve lived in the house for 14 years and have accumulated towering mountain ranges of–stuff. 

I’m in burn-it-all-down, throw-it-all-out mode. Amongst the casualties is my CD collection, one steadily built starting in 1990. CDs take up space, and the music world has moved on to streaming.  

All my CDs, from AC/DC to ZZ Top, were sold for 25 lousy bucks. 

I gave away something mass-produced yet very personal; plastic footsteps representing my past, my preferences, my personality. 

I regret it. 

Now, I’m slowly rebuilding my library. But not the same as it was before. That collection was 90s-heavy. This round will have more of an 80s slant, as I find myself drawn to the music of that decade more than any other. And this isn’t about quantity, no matter how cheap CDs are these days. Only favorites will be added to the stack. 

Here’s why CDs are on the comeback–at least at my house. 

The tactile experience 

There’s something to physical media, the experience of owning the music and seeing the artwork. 

While I don’t feel quite as aggressive about it as this woman, I agree with her. I also like seeing Oingo Boingo. Or whomever. 

Having the CDs on hand creates a different discovery process than scrolling through an Apple Music list. Memories are triggered. Cover art grabs attention that turns into listening. Albums surface that might otherwise drown in an endless sea of digital music. 

The CD versus the record

When it comes to physical media today, vinyl records are all the rage. Records are big and colorful and evoke analog nostalgia for many people in a way the cold 1s and 0s of CDs do not. 

But records are expensive, with some new releases now topping $50. Records are inconvenient. They scratch and warp.

Records evoke a different listening experience – many people like the popping sounds and other imperfections, which is fine. But practically speaking, records do not sound better than CDs. And you can’t convert records to digital files. 

Comparatively, CDs are cheap. New releases run under $15, and “new” reissues of older albums often cost less than $10 on Amazon. 

And if you buy used CDs from thrift shops or online marketplaces like Facebook, you can pick up many albums for $1 or less.

The backup plan

The most ruthlessly logical explanation I found for buying CDs was nestled inside page 23 of this epic 54-page forum war on whether or not the CD format is dead:

Succinctly stated by the gentleperson with the Shep avatar.

Today, streaming is pretty great. Huge catalogs allow us to create endless playlists and grab nearly any song, any time. I use Apple Music every single day.

But there is no guarantee streaming will remain as is. Tech markets are about cycles of fragmentation and consolidation. Today, music is in a neatly-wrapped consolidation phase, Apple and Spotify each holding one end of the bow. 

What if, someday, record labels start their own services for just their own catalogs? Or what if record labels disappear altogether, making artists streaming free agents?

We have seen, such as with Neil Young’s hissyfit with Spotify, that artists can disappear from your streaming service of choice. 

Having a collection of your favorite music on CD means you have both a physical copy and a digital copy as backup. Data redundancy, online and off, for a world where change is swift and internet access can be less ubiquitous than we think. 

The Off-Stream Discovery 

Streaming services have tons of music–but not everything. 

The first album I remember listening to was a cassette-tape version of “Barry Manilow Live,” a recording from 1977 of a Manilow concert from Uris Theater in New York City. I will admit unashamedly (ok–a little shamedly) to liking Manilow’s music, and sometimes, in high-stress moments, this album in particular is a familiar salve.  

On a recent CD hunt I found a version of the album I didn’t know existed — a full-length, double CD version of the entire concert–not just the single-album version I was familiar with. 

Not found on the streaming services. $7. Score. Barry raises his arms in victory, as do I.

The CD Connection 

I struggle to find things to do with my 20-year old daughter. We don’t have many interests or hobbies in common. 

But: we both like music. And she likes to have physical copies of her music, also. 

So we set out together on a sunny Saturday afternoon to do some CD hunting, stopping at a couple of record stores in Tampa. We each played some music we liked in the car. We stopped for coffee. And the drive time left space we don’t often find during the week for conversation.  

In the end, music is about connection. Connection to our emotions, to our memories, to each other. That extends to music’s physical media as well, which creates connections to all of the above in ways invisible data streams never can.