The Pleasure of an Album
The excitement of anticipation as the heart rate speeds,
The eyes narrow at the eagerness of anticipation.
Sifting through the racks with narrowed eyes;
Lifting a discovery for closer inspection of the cover,
Flipping to check the track listing;
Gathering a selection with contained fervor;
An assortment of possibility from which to choose.
Then the angst of decision –
Followed by the despondency of loss
As the discarded are replaced with many a reflective vacillation.
Clutching the winner there is now impatience pervading the purchase,
As the money is paid and the album professionally wrapped within its paper wrapper and sealed with sellotape.
The return home is hurried and filled with nervous indecision.
Was the choice correct? What about the other fish?
Within the sanctum the treasure is unwrapped and the prize clutched and reexamined.
It is time to perform the ritual and extract the paper sleeve from within its cardboard resting place.
The black vinyl disc is extracted from the inner sleeve,
Held reverently, by its rim with two hands, up to the light to inspect the sanctity of the grooves, and approved.
When satisfied the disc is lowered so that peg and hole are aligned in erotic summary preparing for consummation.
The arm is raised with delicate concentration and deferentially lowered to apply needle to the outer blank vinyl, so carefully.
Breath is released as the success – a click followed by a satisfying hiss.
Then to sit back as the faint noise wends into the sound
And as it fills the room to immerse oneself in its thrall;
To study the artwork,
To flip the cover and read the track listing, then the liner notes.
To lose oneself, to submerge, to examine, to breathe in, to absorb the full package of art, information and sound as it embraces you in its multisensory, concentrated reverie.
For this is the pleasure of an album.