Getting Back to Truly Listening to Music

Recently I realized there is a big difference between listening to music and really hearing music. It sounds obvious, but I had never stopped to think about it calmly. For years I “listened” to music all day. Spotify open, infinite playlists, skipping songs after 20 seconds if they didn’t match my mood, letting it play while I worked, answered messages, solved problems.

Music was always there, but not really with me.

Last month I decided to start a vinyl hobby. I bought an Aiwa PX-850 turntable, simple but honest, Japanese equipment with solid construction from the early 90s. I connected it to an Edifier R1280 speaker. I did some research before buying, of course, but I had no intention of becoming an audiophile or being obsessed with technical details. I just wanted a good and honest system to sit down and listen.

What I did not expect was how this would change my behavior. With vinyl, you don’t choose a song, you choose an album. You stand up, take the record, look at the cover, read the insert, see who produced it and who played on it. You put it on the turntable, place the needle, and sit down. And when you sit, it is to really listen.

The first time I played A Arte de Tom Jobim from beginning to end, I realized it had been a long time since I listened to a full album without doing something else at the same time. In streaming, everything is easy and fast. If the song doesn’t catch you in the first seconds, you change it. If the mood changes, you change it. With vinyl, you accept the album as it is.

My collection is getting interesting, maybe a little chaotic. There is Moreira da Silva, Dilermando Reis with Gotas de Lágrimas, which makes the living room feel calmer. There is the box A Obra de Chico Buarque, four records that feel almost like a historical document. Gilberto Gil with Realce. Milton Nascimento with Caçador de Mim, which asks for lower lights and a quieter house.

There is also jazz. Night Train by The Oscar Peterson Trio completely changes the atmosphere. Milt Jackson playing Ellington has a kind of elegance that I really enjoy. I learned that I like this “New York hotel lobby” sound. But I also have Elton John, The Cure, Paul McCartney, Roupa Nova, Planet Hemp, and in the middle of all that, Mamonas Assassinas in the Brazilian pressing from 1995, because a collection is also about memories.

It is a mix of MPB, samba, jazz, 80s pop, movie soundtracks, sertanejo, things I bought out of curiosity and others because of pure nostalgia.

In the end, I discovered that vinyl has a ritual. I take a drink, sit in the armchair, and let the album play. I don’t skip tracks, I don’t divide my attention with ten other things. I listen to the whole side A, then I stand up, turn the record, and listen to side B. Sometimes a song that I would probably ignore on Spotify becomes the one that touches me the most, simply because it is part of that moment.

For me, it is not just nostalgia, not a trend, and not about some supposed superior sound quality. It has been a new way of relating to music. Vinyl forced me to choose with more intention and to stay until the end.

It also created a very nice moment at home. My wife and I stop everything to really listen to music together. It became our small connection. Even my daughter is learning the ritual. She already has some records from Barbie, Turma da Mônica, and Carrossel.

In the end, this rediscovery has been a beautiful and enjoyable family moment. I really recommend it.