In the digital age, I’m genuinely surprised with the resurgence of cassettes and the growing appealing of vinyl. It’s obvious there’s SOMETHING about physical media that appeals to the average listener, if only for collectability. Maybe I just “need to get with the times” and get iTunes or use the Bandcamp app. But when it comes to listening to music on the go, CDs are still my preferred format. I know I’m in the minority in a lot of cases, but it just feels like the best of portability and collectability. Okay, some cars don’t have CD players. But that’s still more than the amount of cars that play vinyl. There’s utility in the small factor. I’m not going to pretend I even think about the audio quality compared to other formats. But when I have an album on CD, it is one of the most common ways I listen to it. Streaming numbers only give me a slight glimpse into my listening habits, when Kiven and Overslept are probably up there at the top just by leaving them in for months upon months. Digitally, I skip around a lot – but when driving, I leave things be unless I’m traveling for an extended period. I might not be able to listen to an album 20 times in a row in a confined setting, but break it up between small trips to the gas station, grocery store, church, and visiting friends and those full cycles add up.

I am aware burning music to a disc myself is an option. In my defense, I don’t feel like it. I don’t have blank discs sitting around and there’s something about the custom art that matters – something about a direct exchange with a band (or at least their merch team) to get it. There’s something about being able to hold the lyrics in your hands and read along. PEOPLE made it happen and it’s brought to life in an accessible manner. It’s a relational transaction. Burning discs is… not that. I know most people don’t care – they just want the music. But a large thing about albums that stick with me most is their connections to memories. I remember buying Gracer’s full-length years ago posthumously and listening to it on my first time driving across the state. I remember the hand-numbered American Arson EPs I still have – and placing my order as fast as possible from a passenger seat to try to get #1 unsuccessfully. Moving Mountains’ self-titled was the soundtrack to a starry fall night. And Former Ruins accompanied me to a camping trips, where lyrics about the sunlight lying over the plain paired with the visual reality in front of me. I remember buying Dillinger Escape Plan at Best Buy and blasting it with windows down. It’s something tangible to accompany the memories. It’s the songs that went with me when I moved to the country for a few years. As our Merch Minute segment has shown, shirts and other items are still important to memories as well – but they are less experiential in themselves.

There are limitations to physical media and packaging that fundamentally shape how albums are structured. I remember Attalus having to cut and shorten songs off Into the Sea in order to fit it on one disc. Contrast that the Adjy’s latest LP, clocking in at around 100 minutes. Attalus found a way to condense their album in a way that took advantage of every moment. Adjy doesn’t have a lot of wasted space, but they were not limited by this creative constraint. And while multi-disc vinyl is common and having three records wouldn’t be that much of an inconvenience, splitting an album into multiple CDs is entirely different. Take The Alchemy Index – the packaging is creative and memorable, but switching between each piece honestly is kind of frustrating. Even this shows the impact, though. I have memories cycling through EPs and switching them out. I don’t have memories of playlists shuffling automatically.

I remember driving in the middle of the night in the rainstorm listening to Fallstar with no idea where I was going. These memories are sharper to me than most other things. It’s kind of a chicken-or-egg problem: do I remember the music because of the adventures or the adventures because of the music? Maybe it’s impossible to tell. I’ve certainly had travels I’ve forgotten. The memories are at the least augmented by the accompanying soundtrack.

There’s even the ephemera of the disc to consider, too. It can get scratched. It can shatter in the mail (don’t worry, Overslept, I still love you guys). It can skip at times. Do I like when this happens? No. But at that point, I’ve proven I enjoy an album enough to perhaps buy another copy.

And power is not a question. You don’t need to plug anything in and your CD player in your car and it (usually) won’t just die on you.

I will say that one of my fondest memories post-lockdown was driving around in the warmth of spring, driving responsibly-yet-energetically to some of my favorite albums. It’s a mood boost to activity. You want to drive FAST.

Again, many people won’t care. It’s the music that matters, and there are different ways to listen. But there’s something special to me about CDs. It’s not as lofty or limited as vinyl. It’s not as casual as streaming. There’s some nostalgia, sure, but there’s so much more. And I wish more bands would bring it back.