Record collector Ron Lower drove his van down from Broomfield packed with crates of new wave and punk records from the ’80s.
For me, it was nostalgic flipping through his old LPs. Well, as nostalgic as meeting a stranger at the Radisson off Interstate 225 could be.
On Sunday, at the Denver Record Collector’s Fall Expo, a strange community of traders and sellers of these artifacts came together.
Records. As in LPs, those black vinyl spheres. If memory serves, these rotating flat discs with spiral grooves scratch rather easily. The jackets fade. Good riddance.
“No. No. There is plenty of interest. It’s been great to see the reaction,” explains Ron. “I’m in my early 40s, and I’m watching kids collecting the same records I did when I was in my 20s.”
Ron is a burned-out former downtown Denver business type, and it’s tough to imagine him being happier than he is around these records.
This “serious” hobby, he tells me, started when he and his wife realized (I suspect by this he means only his wife “realized”) that Ron had amassed more records than he could possibly ever listen to or properly maintain.
That’s when he began trading and selling. Soon, he opened a booth at the Lafayette Flea Market.
Ron says younger collectors are interested in what records originally sounded like. Digital is not analog – “it’s a bunch of ones and zeros,” one vinyl fan explained – it lacks that low-end hum, that warm sound.
But it’s more than merely the great sound. Somehow, records and record covers make the experience more personal … or certainly more personal than downloading 1,000 songs onto a credit-card- size iPod.
Howard T. has been collecting records since 1961. A huge Moody Blues fan, which may explain why he won’t give out his last name, he proudly displays a number of the band’s 45s he got in a trade Sunday.
Decked out in a Broncos jersey and hat, Howard, who lives on the Western Slope, says he knows about 100 people here on a first-name basis.
“This is community,” he tells me before shaking hands with a passer-by.
“I remember the early ’70s, there were three record stores in Denver,” Howard explains. “A lot of us had record stores once upon a time; we were all the victims of CD stores. Being in places (like this) feels like opening up a time capsule.”
As he speaks, Howard randomly pulls records from his crates. Each has a wonderfully specific tale affixed.
Howard, quite impressively, gives me precise release dates and says things like, “Heart released this one in May 1980, but the European version was out a year earlier with this extra song.”
Howard’s favorite story hearkens back to his teenage years. His longtime friend (who happens to be sitting next to him) persuaded him to sell all his Beatles 45s – worth thousands now – so he could purchase an 8-track player for his car.
At this, hearty laughter booms throughout the room. If you remember 8-track players, you know why.
More than a decade-and-a-half ago, I started shedding my modest record collection and loading up on compact discs. Will I be at an expo 20 years from now selling my CD collection?
“No way,” says Bob Miley, a collector from Colorado Springs.
Miley started collecting in the early ’70s and trading about 20 years ago. Now, he travels to shows across the country and is in possession of one of the most extensive collections in the room. He believes records have inherent qualities that will never be matched by other media.
“It’s a combination of nostalgia – baby boomers love these things – and people are beginning to find out the difference between digital sound and analog, which is a richer and deeper sound,” he explains.
“CDs could never match them. The artwork. The notes. The stories. And anyway, it’s a lot more exciting than picking up a plastic box.”
David Harsanyi’s column normally appears Monday and Thursday. He can be reached at 303-820-1255 or dharsanyi@denverpost.com.
