Songs in The Key of Life: How record collecting fueled my passion for music, history, and connection

If you follow me on social media, you’ll probably see that at least twice a month I’m posting on my story some random new vinyl I’ve picked up. Some ranging from R&B classics like “Voodoo” by D’Angelo or some Japanese Jazz from Ryo Fukui. Truth is, I’ve always been a fan of music and I’ve been collecting records for a couple years now, but there’s something about the past few years that has made my love for this art form grow exponentially.

Some of you may not know this, but I grew up playing piano with my brother. I took classes for a few years with our piano instructor, Mrs. Dial (may she rest in peace) and every so often if I see a piano, some of my Baroque pieces come to mind and I can play a lil’ something. From piano, I started playing the clarinet and dabbling into the saxophone. It’s been a while since I’ve actively played those instruments, but the music theory I learned hasn’t gone away. I can still read music, a skill I don’t have the chance to use very often – but still helpful, nonetheless. Take that, and my background in dance, and it feels like I’ve been surrounded by music, in different forms, all my life.

So, how does this relate to record collecting and music?

Well, I’ve had this fixation on history for quite some time and as I learn more of Black American history, I've come to realize that quite simply, “Music IS History’ (shout-out to Questlove). You ever listen to oldies like the Dramatics, Marvin Gaye, Parliament and the Funkadelic’s, etc. and think to yourself “What was going on during that time?”. I mean, even writing that reminds me of the critically acclaimed album “What’s Going On” by Marvin Gaye where he dedicated his 35 minute album sharing his dissatisfaction with the social and political issues of the 60s and early 70s. I also think about The Dramatics and their song “What You See Is What You Get”. One of my history college professors LOVED that song, little did I know that one of their band members was killed in one of the deadliest riots of the civil rights movement following their concert in Detroit. Maybe it’s the history nerd in me, but for much of history, especially Black American history, our testament to the joys, trials, and tribulations of the time has been captured in music.

I can recount numerous conversations with my dad where he recalls pivotal moments of his life to the songs of the time. I remember when he told me about his first Parliament and the Funkadelic’s concert and their “Mothership” – this “conceptual vehicle of funk deliverance”. Then over 30 years later, when the National Museum of African American History and Culture opened, I got see it in all its glory, and facetimed to show him live.

As time passed and he became more serious about his faith, he leaned more exclusively to Christian music and gospel artists like Tremaine Hawkins, the Clark Sisters, John P. Kee, Mahalia Jackson, etc.

On a trip to the Outer Banks last summer, I found a Mahalia Jackson vinyl titled “Bless This House” and decided to pick it up. The more I read about her, I learned that she was a close advisor to Martin Luther King Jr and sang “Precious Lord” at his funeral. My father’s storytelling through music expanded past the boundary of genres and opened my eyes to the songs of his time, which caused me to pay attention to the songs of “my” time.

Music, Ownership, and Storytelling (in the age of social media and streaming)

I decided to write my next blog post on music and vinyl records not to convince you to start your own collection, but to give you a glimpse into the intentionality and thoughtfulness that goes into such a practice. I mean let’s be real, who really needs vinyl when we have Spotify premium at our fingertips? Even the sheer cost of vinyl has become QUITE expensive over the last decade. Although I use music subscription services daily and think to myself before purchasing a vinyl “do you really need this RIGHT NOW?” -  there’s something about ownership that speaks to me.

You see, the music that we listen to on Spotify, Apple Music, etc. isn’t ours. We have access to it for our pleasure, but a record label (or artist) could decide to pull their music off platforms at any moment. I mean think about Tiktok, and how Universal pulled their artists’ music from the app (which has opened the door to discover newer artists, but sometimes I want a particular song with the visual… you know?). As time grows my generation owns less (probably because renting and homeownership is absurdly expensive). But with what remaining disposable income I have; I deserve to have something to myself - like a curated collection of my favorite albums.

There was one time I saw someone on social media create a playlist titled “songs of my life” and talked about how those songs could offer a glimpse into who they are and where they’ve been to someone who hasn’t met them before. I remember thinking to myself how thoughtful and intriguing that was, trusting music so well to sum up one’s life journey (especially created by a stranger)? But in the grand scheme of things, again, music is storytelling at it’s core. Sometimes, music is just for the feeling – but it carries you to another destination, too.

Music and Connectedness

I tell you what, there’s nothing better than wrapping up a long workday, throwing on some Stevie Wonder and cooking yourself some dinner with a glass of wine. Sometimes “Songs in The Key of Life” is all I need to just be, to just exist. For me, the physical action of picking out a vinyl, removing it from the sleeve, placing it on the mount and pressing “play” is the simple movement to break the monotony of a grueling workday. Making space for music is an action I take for self-care in my life, reminding me that I have interests and hobbies outside of the work I produce. Playing records forces me to pause, listen, and exist.

Somewhat unrelated, but there's nothing I wish more than to have access to the collections of my grandparents. To get a sense of what kind of music they listened to, who or what spoke to them. My newfound interest is more like the product of a resurgence since CDs and cassettes were much more popular during the 90's. Unfortunately for me, time and environmental factors have ruined my grandparents collections. I wish I had that memorabilia of them to cling onto, that could give me a snapshot into their soul, much like the conversations with my parents over the years that sparked from music. That’s partially why I took an interest in starting a collection of my own - not just to have something to own, but something to pass down.

Closing

As i'm getting older, I realize how important story telling is and the power of the story teller. Those who've had the power to write history didn't always look like me or my ancestors, and therefore, I've understood that in order to find alternative narratives I have to look to other mediums - like music. For me, not only is music an art form that I cherish, but it has also helped me further understand myself, the people I love, and admire.

Are there songs that carry the weight of your memories? In what ways have you noticed art (music or not) tell a story? Are there other artists you've listened to that give clues to what's going on in our world today? In terms of a legacy, consider the things in your life that help tell YOUR story, and how can you gain ownership of it to pass down.

“When you live your life through records, the records are a record of your life.” - Questlove