Five Dollars and an Act of Faith

I love music. It’s my primary special interest.

About a year ago, I bought a $20 MP3 player and started ripping music from my CD collection so I could listen to CD-quality music anywhere and any time, without a subscription.

I loved that so much that I returned the MP3 player and upgraded. Then I upgraded twice more until I had a really good—and much more expensive—digital audio player, or DAP, and several pairs of wired earbuds called in-ear monitors, or IEMs.

I listen to music, either through the IEMs or through speakers, every day. And not in a background sense. I actively listen to music for hours every week.

I listen mostly to artists I know at least a little, but I enjoy finding new music and actively listen to artists I’ve never heard of. Many of these, like Patty Griffin, have made their way into my regular rotation.

For some reason, my Facebook feed has recently been filled with musical artists offering free CDs in exchange for paying the postage and handling.

Since I ripped the CDs last summer, the only laptop in the house with a CD drive went kaput, and I had no way to rip or even listen to CDs.

It didn’t occur to me that if I paid the five bucks or so for a CD, the artists would also send me digital files, so I was stuck thinking that I’d love to hear some of these CDs but couldn’t.

Then two nights ago, I found a CD player on Woot.com for $7.99 and immediately grabbed it so I could buy random indie CDs off Facebook.

The listing was for a “Deluxe Personal CD Player,” which sounded pretty fancy for eight bucks. When it came, it was from Deluxe Products, which sounds decidedly less fancy. But again, eight dollars.

I’ve ordered eight CDs and will enjoy getting packages in the mail. I’m particularly looking forward to seeing cover art in person and hearing the little machine spinning up. I will love listening to new music through my retro Koss headphones with foam ear pads, just like I did in the ’80s.

Or I could put the digital files on my DAP and listen through high-end IEMs, but where’s the fun in that?

One of the indie bands I wanted to hear is Herrick. I’ve written about their song “Baptized in Dirty Water” on my Substack, but I love it enough that I’m not finished talking about it.

One reason I love music so much is that it’s all about connection. Someone sits down and writes lyrics and music, and then someone, maybe the same person, turns it into something I can listen to again and again.

And they’re not doing it for the money. Like the essays I write, they’re doing it to reach people who hopefully will enjoy it and want to hear more.

As a writer, I can confidently say that most artists, of any kind, would make more money working a “real” job. Many of us do, in fact, have other occupations, but our art isn’t “just a hobby.”

Sure, the IRS may think it’s a side hustle at best, but making things that other people will hopefully enjoy is deeply important.

Imagine a life without music or story or art. It sounds pretty grim, right? So I’m happy not only to have new music to listen to, but also to support the indie artists who make that possible. And I love that I’m doing it on an obsolete piece of equipment that cost seven dollars and ninety-nine cents.

Excuse me. A deluxe piece of obsolete equipment.