Record collections are what I call a fluctuating Dad Thing. They went from being super Dad to counterculture but they’ve swung right back around into Dad territory, just like ironic mustaches that morphed over time into normal mustaches without anyone ever noticing the change.
If you’ve got a Crosby record player with five albums from Best Buy (likely candidates include the Guardians Of The Galaxy soundtrack, Hotel California, and Nas’s Illmatic), start calling your exes, because congratulations, you’re a Dad! (This includes me. I’m a total Dad.)
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Bands can go into Dad territory real fast. Remember in 2012 when Paul Ryan said his favorite band was Rage Against The Machine and Tom Morello called him, “the embodiment of the machine?” It was the best possible response, but that doesn’t mean that on that day Tom Morello didn’t also say a silent prayer for the crossing of his music into the nether-realm of Dad stuff. Yes, due to the inexorable passage of time, Rage has joined long-time residents Steely Dan and Jimmy Buffett who’d passed over long before.
It’s not just your taste in music that makes owning a record collection a Dad thing, though. If you’re like me, you got a record player in college and then realized after one move why having thousands of hours of music in one tiny device that fits in your pocket is so damn convenient. Records are heavy! Even if you own like twenty of them, no one wants to be the one to carry the record box during the move. Is there any better quality of sound that makes actually working out worth it? (I personally will exercise when I’m dead.)
It’s a major Dad thing to cling to those precious twenty records you bought in college, hauling them from apartment to apartment so that twice a year you can listen to a copy of Midnight Marauders that you got at Walmart so it’ll sound slightly better than if you streamed it on Spotify. It’s not good or bad. It’s enjoyable … just in a Dad way.
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