Addicted

On being crushed by the weight of my record collection.

You could say I’m a record collector, but it would probably be more accurate to call me a record addict. I have hundreds of LPs, dozens of singles, and now, many, many 78s. It is the latter that have occupied me most over the past month or so.

I’ve been a collector of “regular” records for more than 20 years, which I suppose accounts for how many I have. I’ve only been collecting 78s for about 5 years.

I’ve always liked old music. Not 1960s music, although I like that, too. I’m talking about music that’s 90-100 years old.

My first exposure to it might have been on one of the many videotapes of silent movies I collected back in the 1990s. The music that appeared most often on them was that of Jelly Roll Morton, although I didn’t know it then. I just thought of it as good early jazz.

The idea of collecting that music — jazz and country, actually — never occurred to me, primarily because I didn’t have any idea where to find it. Then I saw the documentary “Crumb,” about underground cartoonist Robert Crumb, who collects 78s, and whose collection features prominently in the film.

I had seen 78s at antique stores, but most of them were either by Bing Crosby or Frank Sinatra, two artists in whom I have very little interest. (I don’t dislike them, they just aren’t my teacup.) So I assumed the records I really liked just weren’t available.

While I’m not exactly a Luddite, some of the technological advances of the past few decades seemingly passed me by, and it didn’t occur to me to look on eBay for an embarrassingly long time.

I also discovered a record store in Minneapolis, Vintage Music Company, which deals 78s exclusively, along with vintage stereo equipment and phonographs. So it seemed like it was now or never, I guess.

My buying habits are sporadic. I go through spurts of not purchasing any records for a long time, and then seemingly getting as many as I can over the course of a weekend. Four of them arrived in the mail today.

I wouldn’t call my love for this music nostalgia, as I wasn’t around to experience it when it was first released. I don’t know what you would call it. Connoisseurship? That’s a little self-congratulatory. Obsession? That would probably be more accurate.

But so what? Most people act like they don’t even know what they like. They just turn on the radio and whatever’s playing is good enough. I’ve never been that way. I’ve always had strong opinions about what is good and what is not good. Too strong, probably.

At any rate, it’s too late now to change, which is just fine. I still have a lot of records to buy — and more importantly, to listen to. I’m an addict. Are you?