Umm, I’m listening to a record at the moment. No, I mean it – a record. A vinyl record. Not the kind that DJ’s use when they "mix" and "scratch". No, no. I’m talking about the one used on the classic home vinyl record player. It feels nice. I bought it last week after accepting an invite to a relaxed drink at a friend’s house.

I spent most of the evening drinking with the kids. My host’s son (all 20-years of him) QUIETLY mentioned to me that he bought a fucking record player and a stack of vinyl. I grabbed both his legs together with my right hand, and his throat sideways with my left, like one might hold a bike’s handlebars. I lifted him above my head like those Strongest Man in The World weightlifters do on TV. (Why does that programme never go away? Surely they should have decided by now? I mean, fuck, what else must they carry and run with?).

"What do you MEAN!!!" I screamed, as I pinned him against the wall at eye-level. "What you have just said is VERY RUDE because it has CONFUSED ME! What the fuck do you MEAN, son?!"

"A record player with vinyl records like from the 70’s, 80’s and 90’s," he blurted.

The classic home vinyl player – R400 – laughable

I dropped him to the floor and commanded him to stand at attention.

"Don’t fuckin’ talk about fuckin’ record players from my youth as though I wasn’t there! I fuckin’ OWNED fuckin’ RECORDS, bru! Like LANK fuckin’ records. I was buying Michael Jackson on vinyl whilst you were drilling your mom’s left, my boy! All the way up to the Bad album, I might add!."

Look, I just think he should have said that you bought a record player FROM MY YOUTH. I was embarrassed that it felt inside like our generation had let the youth down. I suddenly realised that we, I, had COMPLETELY forgotten about the classic home vinyl record player. Imagine future generations never feeling that feeling? And here I was, sitting in front of a 20 year old who had just bought his first one. I must sound like a 60 year old at the moment, but I REALLY am excited about this! I IMMEDIATELY felt a wave of pleasure as a little drawer in my memory opened its contents into one of the spare voids in my brain I keep available for moments like these – for analysis. I was jealous and excited, all at once.

The timing was perfect. It had been long enough. My life experiences were adequate for me to very clearly and concisely remember the home vinyl record player from my earlier years for what it really was – an experience; the sound quality was incidental. (Hope you enjoyed that last sentence as much as I enjoyed creating it for you. I’m in the mood for hyphens and semi-colons at the moment – it’s sexy – where I gotta be 😉

(I thought I’d just mention that my record player is currently playing Mello Yello by Donovan. It’s amazing. Seems to work well with this classic Swazi I have next to me. It’s almost like the the two may have met before)

So he shows me some of the vinyl that he bought – throwing around a bit of Phil Collins; you know, some Fleetwood Mac, Beach Boys – getting into it. I held a knife to his throat as he wrote down the details of the vinyl record shop in Observatory’s Lower Main Road – Revolution Records.

Hmmm, Revolution Records….. I like it.

"It’s just like the record shop in High fidelity, " The Junior Eccentric went on to say.

"I fucking beg your pardon????? I’LL BE THE FUCKING JUDGE OF HOW THE RECORD SHOP FUCKING LOOKS. OK? I’LL DECIDE if it’s COOL or not!"

Jesus, people are losing their fucking MINDS around here!

Two days later at 9am I molested a joint and found myself inside Revolution Records at 85 Lower Main Road in Observatory, Cape Town.

Revolution Records
85 Lower Main Road
Observatory – Cape Town

Jeepers Hudders! It was BETTER than the one in High Fidelity!

"Grant" welcomed me and remembered serving the Junior Eccentric. "Ja, the Pioneer that had to have the band replaced?" he asked.

Nice, I like this place.

He helped me select two players (one for a mate) for about 400 bucks each and then Grant had to shoot off to fix some players at Voodoo Lounge in town. I was introduced to "Laurent" who was puffing on a cigarette as he prepared two cups of coffee. "Hi there," I said across the room to his back.

"You having?" he asked, turning around and passing me the one cup of jo. "One sugar, milk?"

"Perfect," I smiled. My body usually only accepts Vida e coffee, but I was prepared to make an exception that morning.

The P.A. called and I had to move the week’s only permitted meeting (Tuesdays at 10h30), as I spent two hours playing record-shop record-shop with Laurent, at Revolution Records in Observatory. JUST what I needed! I bought a small pile of original records to get me going again (at R30 – R60 each – depending on demand and quality), not trying to prove anything with regards to what others may deem cool or not – simply buying what I felt like, the stuff I missed. And yes, they DID have Michael Jackson’s Bad! I also found a bit of Fleetwood Mac, some Bee Gees, Beach Boys, Elvis, AC/DC, U2, Elton, Beatles, Visage, Dylan and a couple more. I had to restrain myself because the selection was so radical. This was clearly going to be a regular occurrence. Laurent cleverly selected Boston’s "More than a feeling" to play in the shop, and placed the album sleeve on the "current track playing" easel.

"That’s coming with me as well, thank you very much," I informed our boy.

We tracked down South Africa’s greatest ever rock band, McCully Workshop’s (Rupert Mellor, Mike McCullagh, Tully McCullagh, Richard Black) album Workshop Revisited and decided that was enough for one day. They didn’t take cards so I promised to pay later that day over the internet (this is not an accepted practice and I wouldn’t suggest it – take some cash – old school – nice).

I flew back to 2oceansvibe HQ, blinked through the meeting and wheelied home to The Paris Hilton house (The Interior Decorator is NEARLY done with The Safe House – to which I will soon return – to the haven of peace and protectedness nessness ness).

I wired my player to the surround sound system at home (using a very official muso looking gadget called a "pre-amp" or something like that. It’s for if your system doesn’t have an ACTUAL "phono" input at the back. You’ll like it – it even has a second option to switch from "phono" to "mic" – oh very nice!) and selected the first record. McCully Workshop felt like the right thing to play.

And there it was, the reason why I missed it! Everything became so clear. It was the WHOLE PROCESS that we have lost with today’s digital music muffshow. I can use the power of my mind to select crystal clear songs on my iPod these days – but where is the fun in that? I want to SEE the fucker TURNING AROUND! I want to hold something in my hand before I play it. Something bigger than a CD. I want to CHOOSE A SIDE. I want to have something that stops half way through, giving me timeous breaks to get up and stretch; as I work, CONSTANTLY, on maintaining good relations with higher beings. And, as so accurately pointed out by Leather Hands, I WANT to hear the odd little crackle..

Umm, I thought it pertinent at this stage to mention the fact that my grandfather, Lovell Procter, brought "Hi-Fi" to South Africa.

Thangyaverymuch

So there you go! It’s RECORD TIME, my friends. It’s not about your age – it’s something that everyone should experience, something everyone else has missed. Choose whatever you want and just play it. Drink some red wine like I’m doing now (I’ve started drinking again) and just have it going in the background. It feels so good. Dylan’s Highway 61 Revisited is on at the moment. It’s so rare to listen to one artist’s entire album these days. God, this is good

I couldn’t be happier.

Honestly – I’m not lonely.

Seriously, I’m fine.

I’m ok, I suppose.

Look, we all get SCARED! We all cry ourselves to sleep at night.

I’m KIDDING! I’m fine! Seriously, it’s not a cry for help. Seriously, I’m fine.

Except at night. I’m quite bad at night time. I wet my bed. Not with wee, with tears. But those are actually tears of joy. Something that happens when I think of you – the 2oceansvibe readers – the air that I breath.

Christ this article is long. I must apologise. I think it’s this wine. It’s just so good.

I’m going to wrap this up.

That’s it, my darlings. That’s all I wanted to say. Just get your ass down to Revolution Records in Observatory, say hi to the guys in the shop, and have a little look around. Ask questions. Choose stuff. Then go home, turn off the TV and play nicely. Pull the records out of the sleeves and pop them on the turn table. Make a mess with the covers. Piss your bird off. Have a mid-life-crisis trial run. Or, if you’re old enough and think you’re ready, maybe THIS is the right time FOR a mid-life-crisis? You gotta do it SOMETIME!?

Lift the arm carefully and place the needle gently on the vinyl surface and enjoy the crackle as the first track on side one gets closer and closer – just enough time to sit back on the sofa, pour a glass and light a joint (OBVIOUSLY I don’t smoke joints, Mum! But it SEEMS like the kind of thing COOL people would do. I’m trying to appeal to a wide audience here).

Do whatever you want, but just get some vinyl in your life.

Oh, and, one of you have my Beastie Boys record License to ill. Can I have it back now please? You know who you are. Seriously, I’m not kidding, please give it back. I knew this day would come and I want it back now.

Thanks.