Dust
So, drop the needle onto a record. That crackle that you hear, that familiar sound. I was thinking about that today. Well, actually I was being morbid. Thinking about recordings of people who aren’t with us any longer.
I’ve listened to Otis Redding a million times. But there is so much life and energy in those recordings that I forget he died before I was born. And imagine if he was a relation of yours. Would it be scary or weird to hear him singing at you. Or a comfort?
Anyway, this led me to think about those recordings, dead people’s words, voices, old rooms and equipment caught on tape. Ghosts essentially. And I thought how amazing it is to have those in your house, to listen to, to be inspired and excited by.
Then I thought about putting an old record on and the dusty crackle. That 7″ you bought in 1983 from Beesley Brothers on the corner. Dusty. Dust.
Average dust in our house in the 70s and 80s was mostly human skin and cigarette ash. So that sound on the single could be bits of old family members, old friends and girlfriends or boyfriends. It could be the sneaky Benson and Hedges you puffed on after your mum went to bed. Or your mum’s ever constant Consulate No2. Tiny particles of the past being drawn to the recordings of ghosts. Past to past.
I freaked myself out a little. Its no wonder I prefer MP3s.
The Songs That People Sing 