Dusting is boring and makes me sneeze, so I had been putting it off. I don't know how many months and months had passed. It had been awhile. In fact, to an outside observer, it might have appeared as though I was trying to determine just how much dust I could collect on my bookcases. It was even starting to bother me. My bookcases no longer boasted their cheap cherry shine, but had taken on a soft, sickly grey. This weekend, I figured it was time.
In the cabinet beneath my sink, I found a package of Pledge Unscented Dust & Allergen Dry Cloths. I normally use these with my Swiffer sweeper, but it seemed they'd do a good job of collecting dust from my shelves, too.
I was right. They did a great job. After I had completed one bookcase, I stopped and wondered why I hadn't set a record to spin. I enjoy listening to music while I clean the apartment. So, with a dry cloth in my hand, I went to the pile of new LPs on my orange couch, and selected one: Herbie Hancock's
Secrets. Upon pulling the record out of its yellowed sleeve, I found that, though there were no visible scratches, it was even dustier than my shelves.
I looked at the record. I looked at the Pledge dry cloth. I decided to give it a shot. With my index finger at the record's spindle hole and my thumb at the record's edge, I carefully balanced the record in one hand while wiping it clean with the other. Again, the Pledge dry cloth seemed to do the trick. Herbie's
Secrets was now admirably clean. At least, it appeared that way. I set it to play, and went back at the dust on my shelves.
The album opens with "Doin' It," a song that's as driving, soulful, and aggressive as its name suggests, with pristine guitar, funky bass lines, and bad-ass beats. I thoroughly enjoyed it, and I think it helped with the dusting, too. When the song came to an end, I was sort of jolted by the deep, wonderful silence that remained. Not a single pop or click to be heard. This seemed impressive, especially after having just noted the great amount of dust that had been on the record prior to wiping it down with the Pledge cloth. I continued to listen, this time paying more attention to the sound of the vinyl. As "People Music" played, I was again surprised by the lack of noise in this old, dusty disc.
Curious now, I decided to give a listen to Paul Simon's
Still Crazy After All These Years, a beautiful album. For the past several days, it's been the last album I listen to before succumbing to sleep. I've gotten to know where its few pops and clicks live. They are of the subtle sort, the kind that some listeners may find add a sort of atmosphere, or nostalgia, to a recording. Before listening, I gave the record a good wipe with the Pledge cloth. Immediately, the record simply appeared cleaner. In addition to this, I noticed that static had been removed from the record's surface. And, when I listened, it sounded better than I recalled. Some pops were still present, but they seemed less prominent.
These Pledge cloths are supposed to somehow use electrostatic power to do what they do. I don't know about that, but they are obviously good at picking up dust. Much better at that than me. They leave no residue, and they do not smell like oranges. They come in packs of sixteen, and you can find them at your local grocery store. I got mine at the C-Town on Jersey Avenue for a few bucks. Unless someone who knows better tells me that I have made a grave and irreversible error, that my precious records will now immediately melt, I will probably buy a bunch more of these bad boys.
I anticipate vinyl-haters to remind me that CDs exhibit no pops and/or clicks in the first place, and that I should stop wasting my time with household cleaners. To that, I'd say: Cleanliness is next to awesomeness, and, while you can remove the pops and clicks from an LP, you can't give a CD soul.
