What’re You Listening To?

A few thoughts on friction and a buncha fresh tracks. I am finally getting around to going through a box of 45s my mom gave me. Ostensibly, this was “payment” for helping her downsize her house a few years ago. Really, I think it was just a face-saving exercise for her. Wherever you fall on the friction spectrum, 45s sit at the far end. Friction and intentionality are all the rage these days—I’m as guilty of yapping about this as anyone. I’m also a fan of it. I spend my entire workweek splitting my attention and keeping multiple plates in the air. Sitting down to do nothing but listen to a record is a great way to recover. There are, of course, all the other sensory experiences that come along with it: the smell of the vinyl…reading the liner notes…appreciating the art—all the tactile things. Still, 45s feel like a bridge too far. I like friction, but not this much. My turntable is on one side of the room. Playing 45s means no couch; it means sitting right in front of the sound…