Waxing nostalgia, here.
Technology is wonderful and digital music is snappy, convenient and self-inventive.
But it's hard not to think about what it was like to buy a new album and listen to Side 1. The needle on the turntable would slowly finish cycling before speeding up to return to the cradle. Then you'd flip the album, getting ready to listen to Side 2.
When albums got a little older and, perhaps, weren't given the TLC they should have, you'd hear crunchy static between tracks because of scratches to the vinyl. This was especially noticeable with slow-starting tracks like Emerson, Lake and Palmer's "Take a Pebble."
Then there was always the unfortunate outcome where the record would actually skip. You'd have left the room to come back hearing "Can't Buy Me Love," "Can't Buy Me Love," "Can't Buy Me Love" and it was not Paul McCartney's intention.
If you had a party and didn't want to be bothered with flipping the record after the 20-minute side, there was a little device that would actually allow you to stack four or five albums. The album ends? No problem. The next album would drop neatly on top of the finished album, and you could even rotate albums between Sides 1 and 2. No need to only just play the opening side.
This was especially true with albums like Yes "Fragile," where "Long Distance Runaround" opened Side 2 and was a fresher perspective than the overplayed "Roundabout," which opened Side 1. And when Southern Rock ruled the planet, Molly Hatchet's "Dreams I'll Never See," the opener to Side 2, was a better air-guitar song than Side 1 opener "Bounty Hunter."
In 2007, album sides really don't exist anymore. MP3s, random play, self-selective downloading and play-lists pretty much are the state of music.
And there's nothing wrong with that.
But for those of us who grew up with albums, it's nice to look back now and then to a time when music was trickier but life was simpler.