posted on wsj.com, By CHRIS KERNELS, April 6, 2016
An old vinyl collection offers more than classic-rock schlock. It can also tell children who their parents really are
IN THE AGE of Spotify, it’s tough to justify keeping the massive collection of vinyl records that I’ve acquired from my parents and my decadelong career as a music writer (a profession that affords little financial security but plenty of free albums). This is especially true when the room that houses all of my LPs also serves as a home office, guest room and a play area for my two young children, Thomas and Lucy.
I’m not an audiophile or vinyl fanatic. Every time my growing family has moved, I’ve been tempted to give away my LPs. But as I get older, wiser and more sentimental, I’ve decided to hold on to those records for the same reason I’m glad my parents did: Thumbing through your parents’ LP collection isn’t just an opportunity to get turned on to some great music; it’s a chance to learn about your folks as people.
Sure, my parents’ cache of LPs was my entree to a lifelong love of the Beatles, Stevie Wonder and Creedence. But those records were also a trail of biographical breadcrumbs that my parents left for me to discover.
Once, for instance, I pointed to my mother’s copy of “Rubber Soul” to defend my mop haircut. When the tactic worked, I realized mom wasn’t always a mom; at one time, she was a girl who thought the Beatles were dreamy.
Meanwhile, my dad’s copy of Simon & Garfunkel’s “Parsley, Sage, Rosemary and Thyme” still flaunts the index card of the library from which he borrowed it decades ago. (He maintains that he intends to return it.) I inherited his tendency to ignore due dates; when he and I ended up on the most-wanted list at just about every video-rental store in town in the mid-90s, that index card made perfect sense.
One day, my kids will rifle through the stacks of records and CDs that I can’t bear to part with, and they’ll find as much of my back story as they care to uncover.
Record Player for Kids: Manny’s Children’s Turntable
When Thomas and Lucy, ages 5 and 1, ask about my neglected copy of “The Doors,” I’ll tell them that, although I can’t stand the band anymore, when I was 15, I had a part-time job sweeping floors at a record store owned by a guy who was obsessed with Jim Morrison. As the youngest employee by at least a generation, I was the only one there who, by the mid-90s, was still excited to put on “American Pie” and “Sweet Home Alabama.” Sometimes I’d come home with a stack of old records in lieu of a paycheck.
My kids will also find the copy of John Coltrane’s “Crescent” that my dad bought for me at Chicago’s Virgin Megastore in 1996. (I can hear them asking now, “Dad, what’s a Virgin Megastore?”) That album was my introduction not just to Coltrane but to his longtime drummer Elvin Jones. (I was a budding drummer myself.)
Record Player for Kids: Crosley Cruiser
If my children develop a taste for swing, they might wonder why my copy of “Basie Straight Ahead” is signed by Count Basie’s favorite drummer, Harold Jones. I’ll tell them about the time I took a job as a counselor at a music camp in Wisconsin so I could spend a week with this Mr. Jones; it was there that I fell in love with another camp counselor whom they know as “Mom.”
And if Thomas ever asks to borrow my copy of “Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band,” it will give me a chance to tell him that it’s as much his as mine: We found it together in the bargain bin of a local record store when he was just a few months old. Record shopping was one of the first activities the two of us shared, Thomas strapped to my chest in a Baby Bjorn.
Record Player for Kids: Pyle PVTT2UOR Retro Belt-Drive Turntable
My kids are already enjoying the benefits of my hoarding. Recently, Thomas made his first discovery: “Daddy! The boy’s naked!” he exclaimed. “He’s not wearing a swimming suit!”
Among the stacks and shelves of vinyl and CDs, Thomas had discovered my copy of Nirvana’s “Nevermind.” He pleaded for me to put it on. As he listened to the era-defining riff of “Smells Like Teen Spirit” for the first time, his eyes lit up and he began to bounce.
Then he began to flail. I took his hands and we formed our first father-son mosh pit, which culminated in my swinging him by an arm and leg and flinging him onto the futon.
Not everyone has a record collection to document life’s milestones. But when you’re creating space for your kids, you deserve a pass for not always making the most rational choices. There’s nothing wrong with holding on to a few things that give your child a trail to your past—and a good excuse to mosh.
