One of the most helpful things about moving to California has been sorting through all our accumulated stuff. The local charity shop has benefited from this immensely, as have we by getting rid of all the things that we kept because they "might come in useful one day". The purple fish bath pillow is still with us, it's true, but you should have seen the things that did go.
Two boxes of our British stuff have, however, remained undisturbed since they arrived. These were packed top-to-bottom with CDs, the now archaic way that we used to enjoy music. What are we meant to do with them? Now that we have our library stored on several computers, mp3 players, and at least one phone, when's the next time I'm going to pull a disc off the shelf and throw it in the stereo to enjoy the latest sounds from my favourite popular beat combos?
I was further inspired by reading this week that burglars have stopped taking CDs and DVDs when they clean out a place. "Stolen digital media on little plastic discs just doesn't have the same commercial potential it once did" as the article succinctly notes. So, leaving aside thorny questions of whether you're allowed to own the music digitally if you no longer own it physically, it was time for another trip to the Discovery Thrift Store.
But first I had to check we had everything. There are a number of CDs (Hannah's Pretty Woman soundtrack, for example) that I had incredibly, somehow failed to add to our digital library. So, attempting not to drown in plastic, I cross-referenced everything with what was on the computer. How could I live with myself if I'd given away Aled Jones's Walking in the Air before recording it?
There were, of course, a few albums that I just couldn't bring myself to part with; the first album I'd bought, the song that was playing when I first kissed a girl (actually, I was always far too interested in the music playing to bother with kissing...) When I met Hannah the only sound I can remember is the angels singing. Anyway, our CD collection has dropped from a sizable several hundred to six. And now all I need is a bigger iPod.
The format of the future! Back then.
The only six albums you will ever need.
