Film Review: Vinyl Nation (2020)
It may seem counterintuitive, but it’s likely my nearly 30-year record collecting habit has somewhat soured my experience with Christopher Boone and Kevin Smokler’s new documentary, Vinyl Nation. One might think a film about one of my favorite hobbies (obsession is more like it) would garner more excitement from me, but the truth is, the ins and outs of record collecting are something I’ve internalized long ago, leaving, for me, Vinyl Nation rather inert. A gatekeeper, however, I am not, so it remains easy for me to see the value a film like this holds for new or younger enthusiasts.
I bought my first record in 1993 – Minor Threat’s “Salad Days” EP. I got it through mail-order from Dischord Records in Washington, DC. I was so proud of it that I carried it around with me all day at school. Shortly after, I got my hands on my first LP – “Break Down the Walls” by Youth of Today – courtesy of the now long-defunct Northern Lights in Downtown Minneapolis. The sense of pure joy and glee I got from those first two purchases hasn’t faded one bit in 27 years, and buying records still puts the same smile on my face it did when I was 15. What else has that power?
Vinyl Nation makes a valiant attempt at capturing the magnetism of records and record collecting, but doesn’t quite get there. It’s not really the filmmaker’s fault, though, as this magic is largely an intangible concept that is very hard to pin down or even express. For example, if you were to come into my house and ask me to explain why records are so damned amazing, I wouldn’t have words for you. Instead of waxing philosophical about sound quality or frequencies, or some other unimportant thing, I’d hand you a beer, sit you down and start pulling LPs and seven inches off the shelf. Then we’d listen and talk. I could tell you about every record in my collection and what it means to me, where I got it and when, and why this band or that is so important to me. You’d see nothing but wonder and elation written all over my face – and then you’d know.
What frustrates me about Vinyl Nation, however, is that it mentions my beloved punk rock as nothing more than a footnote in the history of the record pressing industry. Indie and punk labels never stopped making records (like, ever), even when the entire apparatus was near to crumbling. Without these holdouts, many of the pressing plants would likely have gone under during the dark days of CDs, Napster, iTunes, and eventually the behemoth that is modern music streaming. Vinyl has always been the go-to format for punk rock, and we deserve some credit for our help in the renewed interest in record collecting. A trivial gripe, perhaps, but one I feel compelled to point out. Okay, end of grumpy, jaded rant.
As a primer for new collectors, Vinyl Nation should offer enough encouragement to get your butt out to your local record store as soon as possible – and not just on Record Store Day either. For the veterans, on the other hand, there isn’t enough new material to grab hold of to make it much more than a cursory, albeit charming and well-made, glance at our chosen pastime, obsession, or in some cases, life’s work and legacy. But, I don’t think a film like this is for us anyway. We already know how great records are. My hope is that now more will too.
