Stephen Mejias

Sort By:  Post Date TitlePublish Date

The Dispensable Criteria

My copy of Peter, Paul, & Mary's Album 1700, which I had bought many years ago for its Bonnie and Clyde album art, wasn't nearly as dusty as Santana. When I inspected it beneath a lamp, however, I noticed that it was covered by a sort of dull, gray film. The vinyl wasn't black. It was sickly. Indeed, this was one of my many albums that had suffered through the dark, dirty waters of a basement flood. Maybe two or three floods. Maybe four.

Cleaning Your Records in Ten (or so) Easy Steps

I knew that the VPI 16.5 measured around 15" x 9" x 14" and weighed something close to 30 lbs, but it still struck me as large and heavy. I sliced through the packing tape to find that the machine was carefully and securely set within its carton, held in place by heavy wedges of foam. Once unpacked, it was clear that the VPI was all business and built to last, as though it could withstand great amounts of strenuous work over much time and from place to place. It's a product made to satisfy its owner. With solid, black side panels and an acrylic top, it may be nothing much to look at, but it's surprisingly attractive in its quiet, utilitarian way. Again, the VPI doesn't mess around. No frills, nothing but what is absolutely necessary. I am tempted to customize my VPI, decorate it with punk rock stickers or a pin-up girl or a name tag or something.

Collecting My Mail

The cute bartender and her unimpressive boyfriend opened Abbey's Pub at just after 1PM on Saturday afternoon. She was wearing tight blue jeans and a small black top. Who cares what he was wearing? I noticed them from where I stood, at my living room. Not that I was eager for them to open the bar or anything. It was just that my VPI 16.5 record-cleaning machine was waiting for me in there.

Advertisement
Advertisement
Advertisement