Growing old fitfully
There was a time, years ago, when I’d study festive “Best albums of the year” lists and congratulate myself on owning most of them.
I’d snort at the chosen albums that I considered below par, and shamefully update my “Albums to buy” list with some of the more highly-recommended ones that I’d somehow overlooked.
Things have changed. Looking at Pitchfork’s Top 50 albums of 2006, I recognise only three of them, and have a copy of just one.
What’s more, I don’t care. My Amazon wishlist remains chock-full of 80s and 90s stuff that I used to listen to on cassette, and that I now wish to own on CD. I’m middle-aged, and I’m proud.
