The Jukebox of Life
Records. Remember them? For that matter, do you even know what a record is?
Years ago...before downloadable music or even compact discs...people purchased records in order to hear their favorite music. Rather than a digital player, music was transferred through a needle on a record player from a continuous groove of sound cut in a vinyl disc. Records came primarily in two speeds. Long play albums played at 33 1/3 revolutions per minute and had multiple songs on each side. Singles played at 45 revolutions per minute and had just one song per side.
Everything worked great until the vinyl disc got a scratch in it or dust on it. The sound was compromised. Records used to "skip" if the scratch was deep enough...meaning the continuous groove of sound was broken...which meant the phrase would repeat over and over. Despite the technological limitations, playing or listening to a record was an experience like nothing else. The analog playback brought forth a richness that just can't be repeated in a digital format. The sound was not perfect, but it was true. It was true to what the musician really played or even heard. For that matter, even the occasional scratch or pop just made the experience all the more genuine. Records, I realize, may be technology from the past, but they seem to be making a comeback. Audiophiles look for albums and some current artists are even releasing songs and albums on vinyl.
My family and I own a jukebox which is a machine that stores and plays 45 rpm records. I restored our 1954 Seeburg about 15 years ago. Ironically we don't play it all that often, but I was reminded recently of why I still love records. Over our holiday break and when my wife and daughters were not at home, I turned on the jukebox, made several selections, and let the sound rattle the windows in our house. I have eclectic tastes in music, but some songs are just meant to be played loud and in a jukebox...Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis, I Walk the Line by Johnny Cash, Shop Around by The Miracles, Splish Spash by Bobby Darin. I have a jukebox full of records that our daughters tolerate, but they also need to be played and played loud (That last part is what my wife doesn't like.).
Listening to the jukebox got me thinking about why I still enjoy hearing records if the sound is not perfect. I have all of the songs on my MP3 player. They are remastered, digital, clear as a bell, and absolutely...perfect. Maybe I like records sometimes to remind me that life is not perfect. Life has scratches and dust. Life is more analog than digital. Life is more like a record than an electronic file.
I have had students who have been afraid to demonstrate their knowledge because their parents tell me their child is a perfectionist. Unfortunately, I can see how this can happen. In this day of word processors where we can create and publish perfect-looking works of writing, learning how to edit and revise is a challenge. When our society bombards us with media that shows airbrushed and seemingly perfect images of what our bodies should be or how our houses should look, or what clothes we should wear, I can understand why we would not settle for any imperfections. In this day of music that can be downloaded, shared, ripped, or even auto-tuned, I can understand why our young people might not understand that life's most important lessons might be learned from its imperfections. Think about yourself. What lessons have taught you the most...your perfect decisions or your poor choices? Finally, if you're only making perfect decisions, I wonder what you really are doing? As a principal, I encourage my staff to take risks. I don't want them doing the same thing over and over just because it's safe. Wisdom, I believe, is learning to know when to try something new at the risk of making a mistake while recognizing what will work.
I'm not suggesting we should throw away our computers or get rid of our MP3 players. I'm not suggesting we shouldn't strive to always be a little better each day. I'm definitely not suggesting we shouldn't have high standards for ourselves and our children. Rather, I wonder what real or implied lessons we are teaching our young people when everything looks perfect or is expected to sound perfect. Maybe a few mistakes...when it's safe to make a mistake...or even listening to some records could help teach all of us some valuable lessons?
Years ago...before downloadable music or even compact discs...people purchased records in order to hear their favorite music. Rather than a digital player, music was transferred through a needle on a record player from a continuous groove of sound cut in a vinyl disc. Records came primarily in two speeds. Long play albums played at 33 1/3 revolutions per minute and had multiple songs on each side. Singles played at 45 revolutions per minute and had just one song per side.
Everything worked great until the vinyl disc got a scratch in it or dust on it. The sound was compromised. Records used to "skip" if the scratch was deep enough...meaning the continuous groove of sound was broken...which meant the phrase would repeat over and over. Despite the technological limitations, playing or listening to a record was an experience like nothing else. The analog playback brought forth a richness that just can't be repeated in a digital format. The sound was not perfect, but it was true. It was true to what the musician really played or even heard. For that matter, even the occasional scratch or pop just made the experience all the more genuine. Records, I realize, may be technology from the past, but they seem to be making a comeback. Audiophiles look for albums and some current artists are even releasing songs and albums on vinyl.
My family and I own a jukebox which is a machine that stores and plays 45 rpm records. I restored our 1954 Seeburg about 15 years ago. Ironically we don't play it all that often, but I was reminded recently of why I still love records. Over our holiday break and when my wife and daughters were not at home, I turned on the jukebox, made several selections, and let the sound rattle the windows in our house. I have eclectic tastes in music, but some songs are just meant to be played loud and in a jukebox...Great Balls of Fire by Jerry Lee Lewis, I Walk the Line by Johnny Cash, Shop Around by The Miracles, Splish Spash by Bobby Darin. I have a jukebox full of records that our daughters tolerate, but they also need to be played and played loud (That last part is what my wife doesn't like.).
Listening to the jukebox got me thinking about why I still enjoy hearing records if the sound is not perfect. I have all of the songs on my MP3 player. They are remastered, digital, clear as a bell, and absolutely...perfect. Maybe I like records sometimes to remind me that life is not perfect. Life has scratches and dust. Life is more analog than digital. Life is more like a record than an electronic file.
I have had students who have been afraid to demonstrate their knowledge because their parents tell me their child is a perfectionist. Unfortunately, I can see how this can happen. In this day of word processors where we can create and publish perfect-looking works of writing, learning how to edit and revise is a challenge. When our society bombards us with media that shows airbrushed and seemingly perfect images of what our bodies should be or how our houses should look, or what clothes we should wear, I can understand why we would not settle for any imperfections. In this day of music that can be downloaded, shared, ripped, or even auto-tuned, I can understand why our young people might not understand that life's most important lessons might be learned from its imperfections. Think about yourself. What lessons have taught you the most...your perfect decisions or your poor choices? Finally, if you're only making perfect decisions, I wonder what you really are doing? As a principal, I encourage my staff to take risks. I don't want them doing the same thing over and over just because it's safe. Wisdom, I believe, is learning to know when to try something new at the risk of making a mistake while recognizing what will work.
I'm not suggesting we should throw away our computers or get rid of our MP3 players. I'm not suggesting we shouldn't strive to always be a little better each day. I'm definitely not suggesting we shouldn't have high standards for ourselves and our children. Rather, I wonder what real or implied lessons we are teaching our young people when everything looks perfect or is expected to sound perfect. Maybe a few mistakes...when it's safe to make a mistake...or even listening to some records could help teach all of us some valuable lessons?
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