It was Beethoven or Tchaikovsky getting all mixed up on Dad's stereo. Busted needles and horribly maimed vinyl was the staple at my house. The more cuts, scrapes and bruises, the funkier Chopin got. Speed it up, slow it down. Get into the groove, Bach.
Today is different.
I don't scratch. I just collect and listen. And look at the pretty cover art. There's a certain archaic quality. They are big and bulky.