Vinyl and the art of listening offline
by Ben Kuchera
Illustration by Sophie Parsons. Our nonprofit generates funding in multiple ways, including through affiliate linking. When you purchase something through an affiliate link on this site, the price will be the same for you as always, but we may receive a small percentage of the cost.
In an age when everyone is listening in, records can help you to keep the noise out
Listening to music on vinyl makes little logical sense. Why pay $20 to $40 per album when you can stream almost everything you’d like to listen to for $15 or so a month? Why spend money on a turntable and receiver when you can just connect headphones to your laptop or phone?
Because there’s power in consuming the art you enjoy with intention.
One of the reasons I like to intentionally listen on vinyl, as bizarre as it may sound, is privacy. Listening to records is one of the few things I do where I feel I can be completely alone with my pop culture, without creating untold amounts of data spread over uncountable networks. It’s one of the few pastimes left where you can reel back the tendrils of metadata created just by listening.
The joy of listening privately
Movie and TV streaming services know exactly what you watch, how long you watch it, which thumbnail you click on, and who knows what other metrics.
Your music streaming service knows the songs you listen to, whether you like to create playlists or listen to albums straight through, and how often you play each song — among other things. Your phone is tracking where you’re going, how long you stay there, and the route you take home. Facebook is tracking you even if you don’t have a Facebook account, in fact. It’s nearly impossible for any one person to know how much data they’re creating, who is harvesting, and what it’s being used for. We don’t have much control over our devices anymore, nor what these companies learn about us and what they do with that information.
We live our lives as a constant butterfly effect, with every stream and interaction being added up and looked at to see if this show should get another season, or whether that musician will be dropped from their label. Artists are starting to complain that labels may wait for a song to become popular on social media services like TikTok before they’re considered to be released as a single. It’s impossible to listen to a podcast or watch a movie without transmitting as well as receiving. Which is why sitting down and listening to records feels like such a private, neutral, calming interaction with media.
Sophie Parsons
Enter: the air-gapped turntable
Once you get a sense of how often your information is harvested and used for business decisions, it can be easy to become overwhelmed. Sometimes folks may request that you read a news outlet a certain way to make sure their analytics goals are met. An artist may ask for your help directly to rise in rankings if you like, subscribe, share, comment, or they may ask you to stop doing so.
Listening to a song may not even be the point in listening to a song. Maybe it’s about somehow voting for one song or album over another. The shift from seeing the act of watching, listening, or playing something as having value by itself to that act being important for what it means to the piece of art has been exhausting. Don’t you want to buy another ticket to this movie or that movie to make your personal favorite the highest-grossing movie of all time? Don’t you want to join an astroturf campaign to convince a studio to re-edit a movie?
I don’t want to do those things, or at least I don’t always want to do them. Which is why records, and most physical media, in fact, is such a relief in 2023. You can’t buy a physical record at a store or online without sharing some information (record sales are still tracked), but once you bring the actual vinyl record home, that tracking stops. No one is paying attention to how often you listen to it and which songs you may skip.
I listen to records on a receiver that was made in 1977, connected to a turntable from around the same time. Even if I wanted to connect either to the internet so my listening would feed the algorithm, I have no way of doing so without buying more equipment. And why would I want to do that? My stereo is one of the few things left in my house that lets me do something without tracking how I’m doing it.
There is nothing better than listening to a song and knowing that no numbers are shifting on a server somewhere with each song. The feeling of just experiencing music in a way that keeps things only between you and your stereo is something I didn’t even know I missed until I fell into this hobby at the beginning of the pandemic. No one’s recording contract is going to be impacted in any way by my record-listening habit, outside of that first purchase. I have no responsibility to the artist and there is no longer a “right way” to listen that will help the artist more than any other way. You put on the record, drop the needle, and that’s that.
The world has enough noise, and listening to a record doesn’t add any data to the rolls, and it isn’t a vote for or against anything. It’s not information that’s saved anywhere except your heart and head, and no digital butterflies are flapping their wings. Sometimes it’s helpful to get straight to the music, and leave the conversation with the algorithm behind.
Editor’s note: there’s also something inherently grounding about listening to music through a physical object. The next time you’re listening to vinyl, consider some of these mindfulness questions that Jennymarie Jemison (our in-house art director) and I have added below.
How does the record jacket smell?
Slide your fingers across the jacket and take note of how smooth or rough it is.
What do you think about the artwork? Does it put you at ease, agitate you, or something else?
Do you have an emotional response to this music? If so, what is it?
Does this album keep you connected to something in your life?
What other sounds can you hear beyond the music itself? Are there pops and crackles?
How does the weight of the vinyl feel when you hold it?
Think about how you have to protect this music by handling the record with care.
Imagine the passion from the musicians and others that went into the performance recorded. If you’re holding a pre-owned record, imagine the way the sound filled previous homes before it came to you.
Reflect on and enjoy the intention behind choosing to listen with privacy in mind. Sense and respect your own agency related to these issues and trust in your ability to navigate in a way that will make you feel better, not worse.