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Let’s explore for a moment the pain of unwrapping a new CD:
- First, be sure the cashier removes the clunky, foot-long plastic frame before you leave the store because you won’t be able to do it yourself. I think these things were intended to prevent theft, but to this day I’m not entirely sure.
- Next, once you’re in front of a CD player and ready to listen, slow down – you still have work to do. Find the seam on the plastic cellophane. Sometimes there’s a useful tab to get you started, like on a pack of gum. But sometimes even that tab doesn’t work, and you’ll want to have a pair of scissors handy lest you be forced to tear furiously at the plastic until it gives way.
- Now, find the sticker secured along the entire top edge of the CD case. Don’t try to pry the sides apart before removing this sticker – you’ll break the case. Oh, and exercise patience here – you can forget about that sticker coming off in one piece. You’re going to have to pick it off in itty bitty pieces.
Congratulations. You’re in.
In fairness, once you got past this point, you were rewarded. Opening a CD for the first time was magic. The squeaky shine of the disc. The solved mystery to “What the heck does he say in the first line of the second verse?!” The smell of the CD booklet. Such splendor!
The point is that I miss CDs. I miss being forced to listen to an album from start to finish. I miss discovering album tracks that I liked even more than the successful hit singles. I miss album art!
So how did this love affair begin? Well, for most of my life, I told people that Green Day’s “Dookie” was the first CD I owned. It came out right when I got my first CD player. The timing worked so well that, at times, I almost convinced myself it was true.
But it wasn’t.
Now, I’m coming clean for the first time.[1] The undeniable truth is that my very first CD was Wilson Phillips’s single, “You’re In Love,” released in 1991. Not similar. But equally (if not more) fantastic.
I did not have a CD player in 1991. I was still fiddling around with my boombox and recording endless mixed tapes off the radio.
My sister, however, had an awesome stereo system, complete with huge speakers and two giant consoles – one for a radio with pre-programmed station buttons and one for a CD player. It was a graduation gift from a friend, and it was so fancy and high-tech that my sister left it at home when she departed for college. It was too nice for her dorm room and would have eaten up valuable car trunk real estate. This meant that I could use it whenever I wanted. It might have been the only time between the ages of 0 and 15 that I was actually invited into her room . (She was probably ok with it because she wasn’t home.)
Quick pause in the action here to say that my sister gets credit for more than letting me listen to her stereo. She is most directly responsible for my love of all things music. Truth be told, there were moments of bonding when we were kids, and they were usually spent singing along to The Go-Go’s, the Bangles, and Paula Abdul. Ok, and also Orchestral Maneuvers in the Dark’s “If You Leave.”[2] My love of albums – and eventually CDs – would not have existed if not for her tutelage.
But the rest of my family was pretty into music, too, and we took regular trips to Sam Goody, Nobody Beats the Wiz, and, my favorite, Tower Records. One day, my aunt took me over to Tower and suggested that I select a CD to play on my sister’s new stereo.
My 9-year-old self was on a tight budget, so I stuck with what I knew I’d enjoy and purchased the single, “You’re in Love.” It had a live version of “Hold On,” which was already hugely popular. That song is 90s gold, appropriate for so many occasions: karaoke, road trips, the shower. And who doesn’t also love “Release Me,” by the way? When I got home, I raced upstairs to my sister’s room to (fight with the CD packaging and then) enjoy the crisp sound and physical lightness of this amazing new format.
Everything about the experience was magical and memorable, down to how beautiful the CD was. Check out how special this is:
So gorgeous. Which may make you wonder why I lied about my first CD for so long. I’m not entirely sure. Maybe because when you preteen during grunge, you’re not self-confident enough to say Wilson Phillips was your first CD. You want something less warm and fuzzy, less pretty. (Although even Alice in Chains couldn’t bring me as low as the bittersweet “You’re In Love.”) Something that smacks of wreaking a little bit of havoc, or thumbing your nose at authority, or jumping around and acting stupid. So I went with “Dookie,” my second CD. Then I grew up. and here we are.
As you can see from the photos, I’m still proudly in possession of “You’re in Love.” In fact, I have my entire CD collection. My Special Edition “Lion and the Witch” that Weezer released in 2002. My copy of Everclear’s “Slow Motion Daydream” that Art Alexakis signed when he performed at my college. The copy of Moby “Play” that my friend Monica burned and illustrated so beautifully for me. They are meaningful, and I can’t part with them. But, if I’m honest, the streaming systems and infinite playlists of today are too good, and allow for too much musical exploration, for the CDs to keep up. In my view, we’ve lost a little bit of a treasure because of that.
All that said, even though this is a 90s blog, we’re gonna end on a high note – the other undeniable truth: the music is thankfully the same regardless of the medium, and it is always ours to enjoy.
With that, it feels like it’s time. Go grab your buddies, coworkers, or that person on the street, kick up the volume, and belt it out:
[1] “Dookie” reference, in case anyone’s paying attention. This sentence actually just happened – and then I realized what I did and figured it was too good to get rid of it. Sorry.
[2] What’s up, 80s people?!?!!