I saw Lolo listening to one of these things. He had a player in the house and had a couple of vinyl records featuring Cebuano singers and bands. The sound was nothing I've heard of then. It was rich and full of nuances; the blips only served to highlight the experience (like Kintsugi).
What completed the scene was Lolo sitting on the sofa, legs crossed, one hand on one knee, chin up, listening regally to the music. While the rest of us scurried back and forth, he was simply there, absorbing the melodies.
That image contrasted sharply with how we consume music nowadays. With ubiquity and convenience came a downgrading of sorts.
Now, we listen to music as an afterthought, something to fill in the gaps as we go about doing our everyday tasks and labors.
Mario Aguilar argued the same thing about vinyl and how the experience of switching mediums can make us more sensitive to this aural delight:
The people who actually care about the experience of ownership are increasingly turning back to vinyl because it gives you a physical experience that's more fulfilling than a simple CD purchase. There are a few reasons this might be the case, but it all boils down to experience: a warm and fuzzy happy feeling you get from buying and playing LPs that you just can't get from any other source.
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