Monday 11 March 2019

How Many?

It's a Japanese import, don't you know
One Sunday afternoon a few years ago while I was living far, far away, the next door neighbours came round for a drink. Their little girl, Autumn, who was probably seven or eight at the time, loved music. And maths. Counting was her thing. She asked me how many CDs I'd got. 'I don't know,' I replied. 'Shall we find out?'

With mum and dad's consent I set her to work straight away. Holed up in my music room with just a glass of juice and a pen and paper she set about the task in hand.

Two hours later she emerged. I still have her scribbled notes and workings out somewhere. She'd played a blinder. She also couldn't believe how many CDs could be kept in one room*. I could. It's probably why I'll never be a rich man.

Buying albums like this didn't help. I only wanted the single, but couldn't find it anywhere. So I ended up buying the album: the Japanese import. I don't think I ate that week.

Sniff 'n' the Tears - Driver's Seat (1978)

* c.3,500


  1. I still remember the last CD I bought for just one song. It was the Very Best of Dee-Lite and you already know which song. It was in Rome, early 2000s and even as I buying I was thinking how silly it was to do this. Shortly after, Peter Gabriel's OVI mp3 store arrived, followed by iTunes. And that put an end to to that. I don't get why people don't like mp3s.

  2. Hawkfall: They're great and all that, God knows I have enough hard-drives full of 'em, but no-one has ever (or ever will) come round to my house and asked to flick through my mp3 collection. Records & CDs on the other hand are a guaranteed conversation starter.

    1. TS - The physical product (whatever the format) will always trump a pen drive/USB stick made up of digital ones and zeros.
      That's not to say that, like the Hawk, I don't have a billion and one tunes on my iPod, phone, hard drive etc. etc.

      It's all about the tunes, ultimately.

    2. That's a great point. I have a Spotify premium account, which given its download function combined with a dirty big memory card on my phone means that I can listen to pretty much anything I want on my commute for 10 bucks a month. My younger self would have considered this witchcraft. So why doesn't it feel as nice as actually owning the physical product? Is it the tactile nature of the product? Or is it the feeling that you've not made a commitment to the music? ("I've bought Hot Space so I have to give it a chance").