One thing that’s always puzzled me about music is how it takes up time but does not exist at any one space in time. A piece can be six minutes long, but that is any six minutes you choose. Songs begin and end, but they can always begin again when you press play. Life’s not like that; even if we have memories to live over in our heads it not the same as the initial event. How accurate is memory; how much do you even remember about your day up until reading these words? How much fell through the cracks between then and now?
This is why formats of recorded music that lose fidelity are powerful. The two minutes and change that Tacked Into It takes up in lathe cut grooves crumbles every time you play it, like the trailing edges of a dream when your alarm snaps you awake. Play it back. Is that crackle part of the music or did you damage it on the first play? There is no way to be sure, no way to get that experience of the first listen back. We can only move forward on this track, trusting something essentially intangible for accurate recollection.
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