No plutonium necessary
Music has always been a part of my daily routine. Growing up, my family would often have music playing throughout the house during meals and chores. My parents had a 300-disc rotating CD player—the original iPod Shuffle—and would often test my sister and I on the randomly selected songs that came up. By the age of four, I could tell you if it was John, Paul, Ringo, or George singing on any given Beatles track. By seven, I knew all the words to “Bohemian Rhapsody.”
Of course, like any good ’90s kid, I listened to my fair share of girl power and boy bands, mostly on my sister’s Walkman, which was hooked up to some speakers in her bedroom. We always had music on when we played together—it created the right mood for Beanie Babies and Lego, and playing with Barbie and Ken often turned into a Broadway musical adventure.
When I turned eight, my uncle gave me my very own CD player for my birthday. It was a JVC FS-SD7 with a silver finish and blue LCD screen that said “Hello” and “Goodbye” to you as you turned it on and off—with a fancy remote control of course. It was the coolest thing I had ever seen. My household contained multiple music devices already—everything from a turntable to a cassette deck—but this one was mine. Much like getting one’s first car, it would become a vehicle of new discoveries and fond memories.
[pullquote align=”left” cite=”” link=”” color=”” class=”” size=””]It was the coolest thing I had ever seen.[/pullquote]Though I don’t remember the first CD I ever owned, I remember my eight-year-old self listening to a lot of Planet Pop compilations while doing my homework and playing Aqua’s Aquarius album on repeat as I came up with elaborate dance routines in my bedroom.
As I grew a bit older, pop turned to pop-punk and I took advantage of that little volume button to satisfy whatever unwarranted preteen angst I may have had at the time.
Throughout high school, I started taking music a little more seriously. I went back to the ’60s, ’70s, and ’80s tunes that my parents listened to and found newer indie bands that I totally listened to before they were cool. Any time I was in my room, my CD player was on—morning, noon, and night.
This was also when I started collecting CDs on a more regular and serious basis. Every time I went into a music store (they were a lot more common at the time) I would scour the racks for any Alice Cooper CDs I could find. It took me a few years and multiple birthdays and holidays to finally collect all 26 studio albums released between 1969 and 2011. The same CD player that once played the entire Spice Girls discography also played the entire Cooper discography at one point or another.
[pullquote align=”left” cite=”” link=”” color=”” class=”” size=””]A record or a CD is not just a couple megabytes on a hard drive.[/pullquote]When I moved into residence for university, there was no question as to whether or not my CD player was moving with me. It was the last thing I packed when I left home and the first thing I unpacked when I got to my dorm. Music was essential for the task of packing and unpacking, and also necessary for helping me feel at home in my single room.
At the time, I was really into some classic heavy metal stuff and I wanted my hall mates to know how cool I was by making sure they could hear my music playing—not too loud, but loud enough to hear through the thin walls. In hindsight, that probably did quite the opposite of what I wanted.
When I did start making friends in residence, they would often come into my room and see my collection of CDs and that old JVC player occupying valuable real estate on what few shelves I had. Most people would ask what it was, not because they had never seen a CD player before, but rather to signify that my choice in device was outdated and obsolete in the digital world.
I have never been a fan of downloading music. For me, music is one of the most valuable things one could own. A record or a CD is not just a couple megabytes on a hard drive. It is a physical piece of history and a tangible way of showing your appreciation of an artist or band. Call me old-fashioned, but I still love the feeling of going into a music store, buying a CD, tearing off the plastic, popping the disc into that old JVC FS-SD7, and leafing through the insert while listening to some new tunes for the first time—then, of course, listening to it on repeat for weeks at a time.
As I went through university, I would move to and from home every summer, and despite the effort of having to pack up several heavy boxes of CDs every couple of months, that CD player came back and forth with me every time.
Now that I have moved into my own apartment, 16 years later, that very same CD player that I got for my eighth birthday sits proudly in my kitchen. Although I have lost the remote somewhere along the way and the blue display screen isn’t quite as bright as it used to be, I still use it every single day.
Though I am sure the CD player itself is not worth much these days, if it were to ever die on me, I honestly think I would be heartbroken. More than anything, that CD player has seen my growth as a human through music. It’s seen everything from S Club 7 and Good Charlotte to Anthrax and Tom Jones. I couldn’t ask for a better time machine.