For inanimate objects, vinyl records certainly know how to breed quickly.
So quick, in fact, that in the space of 3 years, I went from owning one, to owning 300.
The vinyl resurgence over the last decade has been nothing short of remarkable, and I’m not ashamed to say I was very much along for the ride.
For a music lover, nothing really compares to owning a copy of your favourite album on wax.
Finally seeing the album cover blown up in a physical format, opening the gatefold and sliding out that rare starburst wax variant that somehow looks even more beautiful in person than it did on the screen.
And who can forget reading the included lyric booklet and realising you’ve been singing half the words to your favourite song wrong this whole time?
It was a process I got very accustomed to.
But it’s something I haven’t done for quite a while now.
Because, as you already know, I sold my entire vinyl record collection.
Let me tell you why.
The Dark Side Of Collecting
People collect records because they love music, I think we can both agree on that.
But whilst our dire love and connection to music is at the heart of the hobby, I know that there are so many other not-so-healthy factors that have heavily contributed to this resurgence.
On the surface, record collecting is a great way to support your favourite artists whilst owning and listening to something that you truly love.
But beyond the surface lies a powerful concoction of traits that the human psyche just loves to indulge in.
Competition, FOMO, scarcity, impulsivity and, the big one, materialism.
Now, you’re probably saying to yourself, ‘dude, you’re overthinking this big time.’
And to that, I say yes – yes I am.
But collecting is a funny thing, and the deeper you go down the rabbit hole, the more these traits begin to rear their ugly heads.
The Temptation of Materialism in Music
Us humans love stuff.
See > want > get > happy > adapt – that’s the hedonic treadmill of our consumerist habits (I talked about it more in this article)
A cycle that’s continuously on loop.
You’d think owning a record you enjoy would be enough, right?
Well, the record label has just released a new variant.
It’s not a standard black colour like the one you own, it’s a yellow starburst variant that matches the album cover so much better.
You’ve seen it, you want it badly, and you know you shouldn’t get it because you’ve already got the black version (which sounds better btw).
But you get it anyway.
You’re so happy when it arrives, you spin it a couple of times, take a photo of it for Instagram, then you pop it back on the shelf feeling pretty chuffed to add another one to your collection.
Then you adapt.
You forget about it.
And you wait for the next shiny object.
I Realised I Was No Longer In It For The Music
The scenario I described above happened to me far too often.
Record labels pray on our materialistic habits, and, when it comes to music, these bad habits are amplified (pardon the pun).
For some reason, I felt like I was missing out if I didn’t own the rarest, most expensive variant of an album.
Knowing an album I owned was highly sought after made me appreciate it more – that is human nature after all.
One of the biggest examples of this was Frank Ocean’s ‘Blond’ which became a holy grail for many, selling for more than $1,000 a pop.
Yes, more than $1,000 for a vinyl record that sounds almost identical to the digital format
This popularity and scarcity of the physical format made me think more highly of the album itself, which is ridiculous considering the only reason it was this expensive was because it was a Black Friday release, made available for one day only.
William B. Irvine says, “the trick is to learn how to want the things you already have.”
And that’s what makes record collecting, at times, seem so unfulfilling.
There’s so much out there that you want, that you never really take the time to appreciate what you have.
It Was Hurting My Wallet & The Environment
I live in Australia, which, if you didn’t know, is quite far away from where the majority of vinyl records are produced.
Towards the end of my collecting journey, I was paying more than $100AUD for a single record.
Yep, it hurt.
A good chunk of that was made up of shipping fees, but it was also record labels realising that people are willing to pay a ridiculous price for a piece of plastic with some songs on it.
A piece of plastic, that is considered “the most environmentally damaging plastic and one of the most toxic substances for inhabitants of our planet.”
Yeah, that’s polyvinyl chloride (PVC), which is what vinyl records are made from.
So, not only was I paying a huge sum of money for a piece of highly toxic, environmentally damaging plastic, but I was also getting it transported to me from the other side of the world.
All that stress on my wallet, and the planet, just because I thought the colours were pretty.
I Knew It Was Time To Simplify
The purge of my vinyl record collection also happened to coincide with my foray into a minimalistic lifestyle.
A lifestyle that, these days, I have well and truly adopted.
Beyond everything I’ve talked about above, I also felt like owning so many physical (rare, and expensive) items became somewhat of a burden.
Transporting my collecting when moving into a new house was a nightmare.
Making sure none of the corners got dinged, or the records got warped – nightmare.
Each record I sold just made this weight feel that little bit lighter.
It was hard at first, departing with my favourite albums that once made me so happy.
But it all became easier and, to this day, I have never once regretted my choice.
I appreciate music for how it sounds, not for how rare the pressing is.
A Message To Vinyl Record Collectors
This was my experience and my story.
An experience that was filled with my inability to control tendencies that turned this fun and harmless hobby into a slightly unhealthy obsession.
Emphasis on the ‘my’.
If your records bring you joy – keep collecting them, keep spinning them and keep enjoying them – I cannot stress this enough.
But if you’re always on the lookout for that illusive record, not really appreciating what you’ve got, and spending a hell of a lot of money in the process, then maybe it’s time to rethink things.
You can always get back into the hobby if you miss it.
But I have a good feeling you won’t.
