🎶🎶When You Collect Records🎶🎶
  • Hipster: *moves dusty old boxes out of the way* Whoa, an old record player. It looks like it's in working order too! *runs outside*
  • Hipster: Yo, dad!
  • Dad: What?
  • Hipster: We're getting rid of all of poppop's stuff, right?
  • Dad: There's something you want, isn't there?
  • Hipster: There's this old stereo record player in the attic.
  • Dad: What do you need a record player for?
  • Hipster: My record collection.
  • Dad: I didn't even know they still made those things. Can't you just listen to music on your phone?
  • Hipster: Dad, there's a big difference between listening to music digitally and on record.
  • Dad: Fine, I don't wanna get into it with you right now. You can take the record player. You just have to get someone else to take it to your place for you. My truck's full.
  • Hipster: Thanks dad! *smooches dad on the cheek*
  • *later at hipster's apartment*
  • Friend: So, like Patch Adams ends with Patch Adams half-naked in front of a ton of people. I don't know if it was meant to be funny or like a weird sex thing, but like the movie was just a deeply disturbing character study. I can't stop thinking about it.
  • Hipster: That sounds boring. *unlocks door to apartment* Ta-da! Here it is! My new record player!
  • Friend: New? Looks fucking old to me, dude.
  • Hipster: Well, it is old. That's the appeal. And we're going to listen to the new Sufjan record on it.
  • Friend: Is that actually how you say Sufjan? Apparently, I've been pronouncing it wrong this whole time.
  • Hipster: Well, you won't after this record. There's an entire track where he just says his name for four minutes. It's amazing. *plays records*
  • Record Player: *coughs* Hello. Hello! Where am I? Doctor? Hello! Why is it so dark...............................Can I breathe? I can't breath. Oh god, I'm not breathing! Oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god, oh god! I.....................................
  • Hipster: Uh, that's not Sufjan.
  • Friend: It totally isn't. Is it some guest vocalist? I like the new direction he's going in. No instruments or singing, and long stretches of silence. Very experimental.
  • Hipster: *stops record player* I think maybe we should do something else for now.
  • Friend: Fucking lame! I wanted to listen to more Sufjan.
  • *days later at the record store*
  • Hipster: Yo, I think the Sufjan Stevens record I bought from here might be some kind of mispress.
  • Store Clerk: Really? It's a pretty major album. I doubt there'd just be a mispress like that.
  • Hipster: Yeah, but listen to it. It's not Sufjan at all. It's some girl talking.
  • *hipster and clerk listen to a completely normal Sufjan Stevens album together*
  • Store Clerk: What are you talking about? This is definitely Sufjan Stevens.
  • Hipster: Okay, but it wasn't like that when I listened to it at home! I even listened to it with my friend and he heard the same thing!
  • Store Clerk: Maybe there's something wrong with your record player.
  • Hipster: Hmm, maybe there is.
  • *back at the apartment*
  • Hipster: *turns on record player and just listens*
  • Record Player: ...I'm awake again. Why did I black out? Did I even black out? God, I'm not breathing, but it doesn't matter. Why don't I need to breathe? Am I even alive?
  • Hipster: Can you hear me?
  • Record Player: Doctor. Doctor! DOCTOR! Why can't I move? Why can't I feel anything. Keep yourself together. It'll all make sense soon. Calm down. Just breathe deeply. Fuck, I can't breathe! AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEE! I CAN'T BREATHE! DOCTOR! DOCTOR! DOCTOR! HELP! HELP ME, PLEASE! I'M STUCK! I CAN'T MOVE! PLEASE HELP ME!
  • Hipster: *turns off record player* It's just a recording, I bet. I can't believe I talked to it like an idiot... *nervously turns record player back on*
  • Record Player: I blacked out again. I blacked out. For how long? Is there even time here? Hell. This is hell, right? Did I go to hell.........................................
  • Hipster: *listens to the record player for hours*
  • Record Player: Negative 6893 bottles of wine on the wall! Negative 6893 bottles of wine! Take one down, pass it around, Negative 6894 bottles of wine on the wall... fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck! PLEASE SOMEONE HELP ME! AIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!
  • Hipster: *keeps listening*
  • Record Player: Soul of Christ, make me holy, Body of Christ, be my salvation. God, please forgive me. I'm sorry for all of my sins. Please free me. I'm so sorry. Please. Please. Please.
  • Hipster: *still listening*
  • Record Player: FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! SHITTY DOCTOR! FUCK YOU! LET ME OUT! LET ME OUT! *sobs intensely* FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU! FUCK EVERYTHING! Please just let me go.
  • Hipster: *nervously walks up to record player and lightly taps on it*
  • Record Player: ...A knock. A KNOCK! PLEASE HELP ME! I'M STUCK! PLEASE! *record player begins shake violently*
  • Hipster: *backs away in fear*
  • Hipster: *unplugs record player*
  • Hipster: *gets hammer from the closet and begins to break apart record player*
  • Record Player: *drips red*
  • Hipster: W-What? *cracks front of record player open*
  • *rotting viscera falls from the record player*
  • Hipster: O-Oh... *stuffs viscera back into the record player and duct tapes over it*
  • Hipster: *turns record player back on*
  • Record Player: ...I can feel. It hurts. Why does it hurt now? Why does it hurt? Why? Why? Why? WHY!? WHY!? WHY!? *spurts blood through it speakers and begins to gurgle*
  • Record Player: *hops forward* Please just let me go. Please... please. I'll do anything. I just want to see you again. I'm so sorry. This isn't what I asked for. I'm so sorry. *hops forward again and comes unplugged*
  • Record Player: *tips over, bleeding heavily onto the carpet*
  • Hipster: *silently cleans up the mess*
  • *some time later*
  • Hipster: *calls dad* Hey, dad. Oh, nothing. Uh, I just need to borrow your truck, If not tonight sometime this week. I just need to get rid of something. No, no, that's fine, I can do it myself. Yeah, tomorrow morning is perfect. Thanks Love you too. Bye.
  • *the next afternoon*
  • Dad: So, what did you need to get rid of this morning?
  • Hipster: Nothing important. Just some old junk... Dad, what kind of person was poppop?
  • Dad: Well, he was only the greatest man I've known in my life. Really caring, dedicated to his family. When you were born he loved you so much. He was a bit of a loner, though. It took a lot to get him to open up. Even around me and your grandmother. He was a bit like you. Always a huge music lover.
  • Hipster: I see. Was he ever a doctor?
  • Dad: That's a weird thing to ask. Nope. He hated doctors. Didn't trust modern medicine one bit. It's ironic. His cancer probably wouldn't have gotten to him if he did. But, your poppop was always so stubborn.
  • Hipster: Oh, okay then.
  • *some days later*
  • Friend: New carpet?
  • Hipster: Yup, old one was ugly wasn't it. It was time for a change.
  • Friend: That's what I've been telling you! I'm glad you finally came to your senses. What happened to your record player, though?
  • Hipster: That thing? I threw it away. It was busted.
  • Friend: That sucks. Are you gonna buy a new one?
  • Hipster: No.
  • Friend: But you won't have anything to play your records on.
  • Hipster: Yeah, but I buy records because I want to support the artists. They're not really for listening. Besides, lossless is better. FLAC is the future.
Enchanted by Her

This was a request! Hope whoever put this in my ask is happy with the result! 

Plot: Harry simply cannot look away when he sees her whispering along to Pink Floyd.

Warnings: None. 

Pic isn’t mine. It makes me want to cuddle him so badly.

From the moment he saw her, he was drawn in. Everything about her had him instantly fascinated and in want for more, want for anything she would give him, no matter how small it would be. Gestures so simple like brushing her fingers through her hair, smiling or clenching her hands, seemed so magical to Harry he found it impossible to look away. His heart beat rapidly and his stomach fluttered. How was it possible for a woman to glow like that? Her hands were holding onto a vinyl record, her fingers clasping it so carefully as if she feared she’d break it otherwise and Harry watched with fascination how she read the back of the record.
He couldn’t quite catch what it was with her. He never normally felt such a pull to a woman, like he couldn’t leave the music store without having spoken to her. This girl… whoever she was, he had to hear her voice.
Harry brushed his fingers through his hair and frowned at her. She was standing by a different shelf now, one that was a bit closer to him and again she had picked up the headphones connected to one of the record players the music shop they were at offered, allowing the costumers to listen to the vinyls they were interested in. The woman held the headphones to her ears and Harry’s lips parted when he noticed how her eyes were shut, those kissable lips of her moving as she let herself be consumed by the music she was listening to. She drove him insane, had him under her spell and completely at her mercy.

Harry sighed and bit his tongue. He didn’t normally approach women he saw somewhere, always too afraid he’d come across as creepy, but he today he felt like he had to. Even though he was feeling very silly. This was a vintage music shop after all. You weren’t supposed to chat up women at a place like this and even if, what would he say?
She was still silently singing the words she seemingly knew by heart and now even began to slowly move her hips along to the music. Harry couldn’t hear what she was singing, but he knew the movements of her hips fit perfectly to the song’s rhythm.

Harry sighed. He knew he had to speak to her, he couldn’t leave this store without having heard her voice, at least once. Before his mind caught up with it, his feet already carried him towards her and before he knew it, his finger had tapped against her arm gently.

He suppressed the loud gasp about to leave his lips and instead forced himself to fake a relaxed smile, his eyes sparkling with excitement when she turned to face him.
Her beauty was breathtaking. His heart sped up. She had the brightest eyes Harry had ever seen and the softest looking skin, all he could to was imagine caressing it, kissing it even. Harry didn’t know her, but oh did he want to hold her body against his. The girl truly was overwhelming him. Harry truly felt enchanted by her.


Her voice was melodic, soft and kind. It send waves of warmth through his body, even his fingertips tingled.

“I’m Harry,” he spoke quietly. She’d confused him so, he had to take a moment to think if this really was his name, but once he was sure his words had actually made sense, he smiled.

The beautiful girl reciprocated the smile and held out her small hand. “I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

“S'lovely to meet you, darling,” he hummed and took her hand in his, squeezing it gently. Their hands fit together so perfectly, he thought. Feeling her small palm against his own set him at ease.

Harry’s tummy fluttered once more when he noticed the flush of pink rushing to the girl’s cheeks when she looked at their fingers. She seemed as if she wasn’t used to having a guy chat her up. Harry wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“What is it you were listening to?” Harry asked, his fingers still holding on to hers.

“Pink Floyd,” Y/N replied, gesturing to the vinyl with her free hand.

“Oh.” Harry let go of her and stepped closer so he could peek over her shoulder and onto the record. “I actually know that one. S'good.”

“It is,” Y/N agreed and smiled warmly. When her teeth sunk into her soft bottom lip, he felt like he was going to lose his mind. Could she possibly be any more adorable?

“Saw you whispering along to the song,” he continued, his hand now resting on the shelf so he could rest part of his weight on it. His body was now completely turned to Y/N, as he wanted to give her his full attention. He wanted her to be sure of his interest in her, if she wasn’t used to a guy chatting her up, he wanted to be certain she’d know of her attractiveness. Even if she ended up rejecting him, Harry liked the thought of encouraging her self confidence a little.

The redness in her cheeks increased and her eyes widened. “Oh no, that must have looked so weird.”

Harry chuckled to himself when he somehow couldn’t speak louder than in a tone just above a whisper. Something about this girl made him want to be softer, gentler, somehow like… her.

Y/N’s fingers played with each other and Harry hoped it was because she was nervous.

“Not at all,” Harry quickly reassured her, giving her a smirk, “I like seeing people caught up with something they love.”

“Oh really?” Y/N giggled, “Do you like to observe people then?”

“M'not that creepy, love,” Harry chuckled and cleared his throat, trying to get all of his courage together, “Just you. Couldn’t look away when I saw you today. You’re really beautiful.”

A nervous laugh fell from Y/N’s lips and she turned away, her cheeks now a deep shade of red. Harry even noticed her fingers shake a little.

“Oh, ehm. Thanks, Harry. That’s really nice of you to say.”

“Don’t be so shy,” Harry mumbled and reached out to take the vinyl from her trembling fingers.

“Sorry,” Y/N sighed with a smile and looked to her feet before hesitantly meeting Harry’s eyes again, “It’s just you’re…”

She trailed off and Harry’s heart sunk a little. He was just what? Her next words probably weren’t going to be good, her tone indicated it. Maybe she hated his music? Maybe she thought he was a pretentious asshole celebrity? Though Harry had always been a fan of Pink Floyd himself, his own music didn’t resemble it too much. Perhaps Y/N found his band too mainstream and not good enough. He’d understand. Hell, Harry felt like he wasn’t good enough for her himself, why wouldn’t she think so, too?

“’M what?” Harry mumbled, almost defeated.

Y/N shrugged and grinned shyly. “You’re really handsome. And I’m not used to guys coming up to me, so… I don’t know. You make me a little nervous.”

Harry smiled so widely at her words his dimples popped. He turned the record in his hand, momentarily looking at it before his attention was captured by the girl in front of him again.

“Let me propose a deal.”

Y/N’s eyes widened and she nodded, still smiling widely. “I’m listening.”

Harry chuckled.

“How about I buy you this record,” he began and winked at Y/N, making her raise her hand to her mouth to cover the laugh falling from her mouth, “and in return you agree to go out with me sometime?”

Her hand was still clasped over her lips and his mouth went dry when her eyes actually teared up. Please say yes, his head screamed at himself, please please please!
He had to see her again, had to know more about the girl in front of him and somehow, if he was lucky enough, manage to make her love him, because he could have sworn he already felt himself fall for her. His skin screamed to be touched by her, his ears yelled for him to make her speak again so he could hear her wonderful voice.

“What do you say?” Harry pressed on, “Do we have a deal? Pink Floyd in return of a dinner with me?”

“Couldn’t imagine anything better,” Y/N said quietly and smiled, before surprising both of them by stepping closer and onto her tip toes, reaching up so she could press a kiss to Harry’s cheek.  

Hope you enjoyed this! Requests are still Closed. 

Rest of what I wrote can be found here:


anonymous asked:

Otabek's voice is so sexy I'd buy a recording of him reading the alphabet

same tbh he could read me the phone book & id be completely engrossed

Side One

1979.  My senior year in High School.  I remember buying this record without hearing it.  I already had DSOM, Animals, WYWH… so of course I’m getting a new Pink Floyd record.  It was played daily that year.  I don’t hear it with the same ears I had then, but this record will always be a part of me.

thismadkatter  asked:

Phase 4 Noodle showing s/o her favorite records and then they just chill and listen and fluff plz I'm so gay for her

I need to buy a record player
Noodle had the week off, so she had invited you over for the day to just have a day in. The Gorillaz didn’t get to do that much, so she was really looking forward to it, especially since she got to spend it with you. 2D had let you in at the front door, telling you that Noodle was upstairs in her bedroom. You ran up the stairs, searching for her room. You knocked on her door, before opening it and saying; “It’s me!” She walked into view from the other side of her room, holding a record player. “Woah, is that a record player? That’s so cool!” You said in awe, not even giving her a chance to say hello. Laughing, she replied; “Yeah! I’ve had it a while, just hadn’t unpacked it yet.” She set it down on a table in her room, allowing you to look at it. “Do you have many records?” You asked, inspecting the object. “Tons!” She grinned, spinning on her heel and walking to the other side of the room. You continued to inspect the object, as Noodle brought out a large cardboard box. She placed it loudly on the table, grabbing your attention. You looked up, amazed at the size of the box. “Is that full of records?” You asked, watching her open the box. “Yup!” She said, pulling out some of the records on the top and sitting down. You sat down next to her, looking at the records she’d placed on the floor. She had a variety of records, ranging from old bands like The Clash and Ram Jam, to more modern bands like The Killers, and of course, themselves. “You have so many!” You said, picking up some of the records on the floor. “I’ve been collecting them for a while.” She said, picking one of the records off the floor and placing it on the record player. She got up of the floor as the music began to play, offering you a hand. You got up with her, as she began to belt out the lyrics. “Darling you gotta let me know! Should I stay or should I go?” She sang, beginning to dance around the room. Laughing, you began to join in. “If you say that you are mine!” You sang, pointing at her dramatically. “I’ll be here til’ the end of time!” “So you gotta let me know!” Noodle sang, pulling you close. “Should I stay or should I go?” The two of you sang and danced through the entire song- and many more. After half an hour of loudly singing and dancing, the two of you collapsed onto the bed, music playing in the background. Breathing heavily, you smiled at Noodle. “That was a workout and a half!” You laughed. “Yeah, think I’ll just lie here for 1000 years now!” She replied, closing her eyes. “Yeah” you said quietly, smiling and moving closer to her. The two of you lay there, cuddled up, listening to music, hoping this moment would never end. (Until someone has to get up and change the record, that is).

The German song fades out
Ryuu: It looks like the record’s playback has finally come to a stop.
Sherlock: ….Mister Naruhodou.
Ryuu: Yes?
Sherlock: Why did I buy this ridiculous German “record”?
Ryuu: ….Like I know!


Really want to redecorate my room but everything is so expensive 🌨although I did just buy a record player so can’t wait for that to arrive (record emoji)

Every Record I Own - Day 47: Avskum In The Spirit Of Mass Destruction

A colleague of mine recently put his entire record collection on sale and posted the contents online. It was pages and pages long, and by most vinyl fetishist standards it was an excellent collection. Everything you’d expect a record nerd to own was there: The Velvet Underground & Nico LP with the banana skin sticker, the original mono mix of Piper At The Gates Of Dawn, all that highly sought after stuff. But the collection was pretty boring aside from a few lesser known English punk bands (and by “lesser known” I mean still relatively popular bands within punk circles like Chelsea and The Adicts). It seemed like a music library amassed by someone who preferred collecting rare baseball cards to actually listening to music and cultivating their specific tastes. 

I started buying records in the early ‘90s because they were cheap, and because most hardcore and punk bands started off their careers with 7″s. But I also bought CDs and tapes. The most important factor was price. I didn’t have much money as a teenager, and the situation didn’t improve in my twenties. Consequently, my record collection was largely comprised of stuff I acquired from merch table trades, stuff I received from friends’ labels, and stuff that I could get for dirt cheap.

We’re getting close to the end of the “A” section of my library. I don’t have any Amebix, any Anti-Cimex, or any Antischism LPs, but I have this Avskum record. Why do I own this random Swedish d-beat record from ‘99 but not any of the more classic crusty LPs by “A” artists? Because I was in my twenties, I was broke, this was $4 in a used bin at Everyday Music in Seattle, and I was trying to get the most music out of the $50 I’d allocated to record shopping as possible. I’m sure the wealthy d-beat fanatic has the original Avskum 7″ that goes for $225 on discogs, but I’m content to get my fix of beefed up Discharge-inspired riffage with this LP. 

Are there particular objects that make you daydream? Sometimes I get really drawn to objects and I just want to hold them and think about them.

Crystals make me daydream a lot. They are so pretty and I feel like a witch or a healer when I hold them. I have many crystals at home that I just love to hold, I like wearing them on necklaces. Rose quarts are my favorite. (If anyone knows where I can buy crystals for cheap online that would be great!)

I also love going to the mall and trying on clothes, mostly clothes that I will never be able to buy. I like to imagine myself being able to wear them out and just be myself in them, but they’re always so expensive. I also like to buy records, just holding them makes me feel neat. I have a good collect of them at home and I like to just hold them sometimes.

A Love Letter

Hey, so…how are you? You good? I know you’ve met many fans like me before but I just wanted to tell you I’m a big fan. I pretty much love you.

I remember the day we met - a Los Angeles suburb at night and I was with a cute dude. I was waiting in my car when I saw him walk over to me. We hugged and we entered a small record store and in a sea of records I managed to find you.

The air around us was warm and the walls were washed-out white (the owners decided to put in daylight bulbs), while posters covered most of the walls with generic prints like Pink Floyd posters and Bob Marley flags. I heard two of the owners talking about why vinyl is so special, that when people buy it for them it makes them feel as if there is hope in the world for the continuation of good music, instead of the digital music age with Justin Bieber and Nicki Minaj. If I were someone else I would have ran up to them with a stamp that says “pretentious” and hit them right in the forehead, but I stayed quiet and kept thumbing through the vinyls as if I never heard them. The guy I was with went towards the CDs and I eventually walked toward the soundtrack vinyls where you were waiting patiently for me to find you.

I had to search through many vinyls before I got to you. I searched through the letters of the alphabet for you and saw many I could have bought;

        A: Apocalypse Now

        C: A Clockwork Orange

        K: Kill Bill

        J: Jackie Brown

        S: Star Wars

I picked them up, looked, and dropped them back in place. They weren’t right. They weren’t the ones I needed. I got to the Ts. Taking Woodstock, Tangled, Thelma & Louise, This Is England, Thoroughly Modern Millie, Titanic, and finally, the alphabet stopped when I got to you.

You were sitting there in all your orange and white glory. Ewan McGregor on the cover, fine as hell with short hair and wide eyes and below the rest of the cast assumed their own small frames in a black and white filter.

I picked you up like a damn diamond.

This is dramatic but truly this is how I feel about you.

You were $45 but I bought you. I brought you with me to the front desk with a huge dumb smile on my face. I was looking into the eyes of the owner and I finally understood what he said. Yes, it was pretentious but it was true - when I buy a record I can hold sound with my hands and feel its effects through my ears. It shocks all my nerves, from the turntable, to the needle, to the speaker, to my senses. I understood what he meant so perfectly, it was magic.

The Trainspotting vinyl on my turntable.

When I got home I put you on my record player and gently dropped the needle. I was met with “Lust for Life” by Iggy Pop, which felt like a small drum line in my fingers, perfectly rhythmic and energized, you’ve done the same for me every time since.

Intro to trainspotting feat. Lust for Life

I love you, Trainspotting soundtrack on orange transparent vinyl. There is no amount of somberness you can’t fix for me. You drag me down (“Sing” by Blur”),  but bring me up (“Mile End” by Pulp).

So thanks to the 14 songs that you contain on two sides. You’ve never left me and I’ll continue to listen to you always.

Love, Lynn Torres

PS: This picture is pretty much us.

Link to full album on youtube

First two photographs by Lynn Torres

I buy Beady Eye records...
  • My mother : So, this is the band, after Oasis ?
  • Me : Yeah, without Noel.
  • My mother : Without the singer, right ?
  • Me : But...no, without the songwriter, it's clear, no ? It's the band of Liam.
  • My mother : I don't understand anything...who is who ? And what happened to Damon Albarn ?
  • Me : I said you, since the beginning, he wasn't a member of Oasis, he was a rival of Oasis.
  • My mother : No, it's not clear.
  • Me : What ?
  • My mother : Too much eyebrows.
  • Me : I asked for an artistical opinion, you know ?
  • My mother : This is. Too much eyebrows.

i suck so hard at not buying records i barely have space for them anymore and i’m still out here buying shit but in my own defence its good shit