What I Gained By Not Being a Musical Visionary

As told by my embarrassing cassette closet

Today I hooked up a 1980’s Sony Walkman cassette tape player to my speakers. The Walkman warbles along at variable speeds when my thumb clicks the sticky “play” button. And while I certainly wouldn’t argue for the quality of cassette listening, it’s reconnecting me to something nearly thirty-five years old: my tape collection. 

These tapes have travelled with me through the years, pushed into tiny, dusty, cassette-sized cubbies in a closet that hasn’t been opened for a long time. Someday I’ll create Spotify playlists out of them, and finally demagnetize these plastic wheeled spools. 

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