From an interview with Amanda Petrusich on Salon. Is it simply that we (some of us) yearn to engage all five senses when listening to music? Mp3s don't smell musty and moldy. You don't get papercuts taking off the shrink wrap. They don't show their age with feathery ring wear and bits of dust. Have you ever licked an mp3?

And does this company make a vinyl scented candle?

I've been on vacation, driving the West coast from North to South with a broken iPod perpetually on shuffle. It was like listening to a radio station with a good playlist and a bad DJ. Given a working Menu button, I might not have deliberately played M.I.A. and Simon & Garfunkel back to back. At least the rental car had an iPod jack and a sunroof! Lazy Sunday morning, perusing the New York Times online and drinking coffee that's a little too cool, here's what I find:

Metallica has a new album, and I'm sufficiently intrigued. (Ride The Lightning was part of the roadtrip playlist). I like Rick Rubin's advice that “If your marching orders for the first 20 years have been ‘change, change, change,’ then letting go of those preconceived ideas is in its own way a new idea.” See why they call him a guru?

Daniel Levitin has a new book, summing up The World in Six Songs. While I admire his fusing of anthropology, neurology and musicology with unabashed fandom, I bristle at the sweepingness. What's the point in making such a slick and tidy pronouncement? Book sales? It strikes me as self-serving academic grandiosity.

In all fairness, I have not read this book or his previous best seller. Given my academic and musical interests, I should be running out to buy it in hard cover, right? I guess I'd rather put on a record and listen to it and think about it and have a conversation with my husband about the sound quality, the recording process, the serendipity that brought band members, producers and engineers together, the inspiration that led to lyrics and riffs, the historical or mathematical basis of rhythms and harmonies, copyright law, playback technology, mix tapes, sex, road trips, geography, memory, policy. And then flip the record and listen to the B-side.

Finally, the resurgence of vinyl. Ah, sweet, manufactured nostalgia. The kids want to hear pops and crackle and feel the weight of an object as the place the record on the turntable. My colleagues who cut vinyl confirm that the demand is there. Good. Consuming music can be more deliberate, directed, personal. Listening to a record is an activity, requiring attention at least every 22 minutes or so. Listening to iTunes on shuffle is wallpaper. As for imperfections, there are plenty in an mp3 but they're less visible and thus dulling not electrifying - haze, not lightning.

Last time I saw Radiohead was 2001, outside... Radiohead fans have gotten younger and fatter and seem to wear more baseball caps... I'm so thirsty... Free Tibet, right on, Radiohead... Should I pick a fight with the people who stole our seats? Probably not, someone stole theirs too... So close, I can see their sweat twinkle in stage lights... Nice Gibson SG, what year is it?... He'd look good in a crisp shirt and tie... I bet it sounds really ace in the center of this venue; I'm standing in a bass bump... Cherry Gibson 335... Smoking? Seriously?... Thom Yorke, nice dance moves, handsome man... I haven't listened to In Rainbows much at all, just downloaded it and slapped it on the iPod, yet I listened to my CDs of Amnesiac and Kid A and OK Computer and The Bends so thoroughly... We had three copies of Kid A between the two us; where did the third come from?... A Rickenbacker... So many camera phones; so many crappy YouTube videos tomorrow morning... I have got to go get a drink of water... I can't believe that Grizzly Bear CD at the merch booth only cost $10; all CDs should cost around $10; I'd buy twice as many... Camden, who's straight outta Camden?... Is Jonny Greenwood playing a xylophone? A real xylophone, so much nicer than a synthesizer... If he hit a wrong note, he'd improvise a correction, and we'd never know... It's not too loud, but I wish the crowd would stop screaming, and how do they all know the words?... I don't know the words to Radiohead songs; I know the words to other songs, but not Radiohead songs... Remember, you once thought My Bloody Valentine's Loveless was all instrumentals... He's dancing again; such presence, I can't take my eyes off him... There's a baby in our row, snuggled in a Bjorn, tiny ear phones... I don't understand the urge to take crappy cell phone pictures and videos, but who am I to begrudge these kids; they paid $60 for their tickets too, or their parents did; besides, it's not like they're listening any less attentively than previous generations; are they?... Pick marks on his acoustic guitar, a well-loved slightly beaten guitar... I really like my guitar, wish I played it more often... They stencil their band name on their gear crates; I'd have thought they might use some clever alias... I should go to arena shows more often, and skip the clubs with terrible sound and mediocre bands... It feels good to hear this; I feel it, the bass in my chest, the rest all around me...