The compact disc would have existed even without Herbert von Karajan – but not so soon. The world-famous conductor aspired to eternity. It wasn’t enough for him that his interpretations with the Vienna and Berlin Philharmonic were recorded on disc. At the 1981 radio exhibition, he presented a new storage medium that Philips had developed with Sony (and Bayer): the compact disc. At a press conference, Karajan explained the advantages of the fact that you can carry a CD around with you, it resists shocks, for example “in the car or in the sailing boat”, while with the vinyl record “it’s always going up and down”. The storage capacity was calibrated to 74 minutes – exactly the time that Karajan’s interpretation of Beethoven’s 9th symphony needed.
Soon the CD was introduced in Japan, the wonderland of technology. And in August 1982 the first CDs were produced in Hanover-Langenhagen – not pressed, but made using injection molding technology. ABBA’s “The Visitors”, released last winter, was one of the first CDs.
I had none of it. A player cost as much as a used small car, a CD was three times the price of an LP, and I didn’t own a sailboat. In the record shops, modest CD departments were set up in terms of spatial extent and range, which limited the space for LPs. Men in suits and trench coats snuck around there looking for Karajan’s symphonies. But hey, video stores also had these back rooms that young people weren’t allowed to access.
And so I spent the 80s with vinyl, which I played on a so-called compact device: cheap turntable, two cassette compartments. In 1985 the record that was made for CD was released: “Brothers In Arms” by Dire Straits. The CD had one more song. Every adult nagged at the thought that if they had the vinyl, they only owned “Brothers in Arms” in shrink form. I bought the vinyl. I also bought Sting’s The Dream Of The Blue Turtles. My parents had a hi-fi tower in spruce veneer.
Herbert von Karajan, the impresario of the compact disc, died in 1989. In the end, the CD was not enough for him: he pushed the development of the video disc, because you should not only hear him with his Vienna and Berlin Philharmonic on a sailing boat forever, but also to be able to see.
Now I could fall asleep listening to two Karajan symphonies or “Whoops! There Goes The Neighborhood”
Meanwhile I bought my first CD in Hamburg: “Whoops! There Goes The Neighborhood” by the Blow Monkeys. An unusual choice. But I just loved the Blow Monkeys, and have been since She Was Only A Grocer’s Daughter. Also, I didn’t even have a CD player. But my parents soon gave me this for Christmas. It was a big black tower with two CD trays and a sleep timer. Now I could fall asleep listening to two Karajan symphonies or “Whoops! There Goes the Neighborhood. I was grown up
But I still went to school. For a long time I had suffered from the fact that an LP just barely fit in my leather bag – but only if there were no school books in it. So in my senior year, I often went to school without books because, for example, I wanted to promote “Bizarro” from The Wedding Present.
Over! Now I threw CDs in my bag and was even able to take a BiFi, a newspaper and The Great Gatsby with me. My god, how glorious was the day I put Nevermind in the drawer, how wonderful the day I heard Paul Weller’s first solo album (the CD is fan-folded), and then came two Bruce albums Springsteen, Human Touch and Lucky Town. Springsteen had changed. Those puny, bland cover images were so far removed from Born To Run and Born In The USA, and the music was much smaller too.
Yes, the CD has disadvantages. It’s compact but not pretty. Nobody needs a 74-minute pop album. Records were bloated, there were “bonus tracks”, there were “twofers”. But there is no nostalgia. Vinyl came back through the back door and now vinyl is the more expensive commodity. The CD is a weird cheap item. She’s just not worth anything. No one says, “I’ll check out your CD collection.” Everyone has cuddle rock CDs.
And that’s exactly what I like. The compact disc has become the opposite of what Herbert von Karajan imagined: it has nothing solemn about it.
But it resists shocks.
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