A mysterious box arrived at Metromix HQ this week. Inside were small packages with our names on them. When we tore them open like sugar-high kids at Christmas, this is what we found.

 

I was particularly excited, accidentally saying out loud that this was my first iPod of any kind. Whoops. I looked back at a circle of blank, disbelieving stares.

“Mr. music doesn’t own an iPod?” Deb looked at me quizzically. “What’s that about?”

Oh man, here we go. I feel like Jimmy Fallon scared to admit to Drew Barrymore the extent of his Red Sox obsession in “Fever Pitch” (I have HBO – sue me). I guess it’s kind of like asking an extreme coffee connoisseur why they don’t just go to Starbucks.

Like anything truly worthy of being obsessed over, most often the really good stuff is hard to find. Thanks to growing up with a music junkie of an older brother, I developed my obsession with records early. I began collecting them with a passion around the age of ten.

Here’s just a small section of what I’ve amassed since.

 

(IMAGE CENSORED DUE TO EXCESSIVE VINYL)

Amongst those records are pieces of music that exist in no other format. There are copies of extremely limited runs (like my copy of the first pressing of the Smashing Pumpkins “Pisces Iscariot” on wax hand-numbered by Billy Corgan himself), alongside songs and tracks that will probably never find their way onto a CD, let alone an Mp3 — unless someone encodes it directly from the vinyl. If it sounds like I'm bragging, trust me. I'm not. My obsession with records and music in general is one of those things that has to be monitored closely, like any other addiction. 

 

I’m no diehard traditionalist. I’ve already collected a gigantic archive of Mp3s in anticipation of finally crossing the digital divide and adding Serato to the DJ set-up. Late, I know, but I’ve been busy.

I do love my new digital buddy. I’m already putting together the ultimate playlist in my mind to load it up with for my future riding excursions (I’m waiting patiently to buy my customized you know what, Miss Ward). We’re going to be great friends. But like the Margene character on HBO’s “Big Love,” it’s going to have to be willing to share me with my first two wives. I’m sure we’ll all get along just fine. 

 

UPDATE: OK, here's the scenario. I'm writing and going through some records. I go to the kitchen and get a beer from the fridge. So I'm drinking it and what not, when I notice another open beer on the coffee table behind me. I pick it up and it's still cold, but half empty. Obviously, I opened it, started drinking and put it down. Then I got up and did it all over again before ever finishing the first beer. Is that a problem? If so, why? Inquiring minds want to know. 

PS: Listening to the second Strokes album right now. So underrated.