One of my favorite things about collecting old records is the ephemera.
Dried and pressed flowers, photos, newspaper clips, love letters, stems. In most cases, I’ve kept each these artifacts with the record I found them in. It seems their natural place, sandwiched in the gatefolds, tucked behind paper sleeves. Taken on their own, they’re valueless things, but beyond that, there’s significance. They are reminders that music provides context; that sounds can serve as tools for decoding, memorializing, and documenting our moments. I think about these things flipping through the pages of become a member or log in.
