Charlie Brown and the Great Album Collection

“Dude, what even is that?” Linus slumped through the front door and aimed himself across the shag toward the second-hand couch.

“What, this?” Charlie lifted Spirit’s self-titled 1968 album. “It’s Spirit, the band Led Zeppelin ripped off.”

Lucy looked up from Pokémon Go long enough to say, “Don’t get him started, Linus.”

Too late. Charlie flicked the volume up a tick when the needle hit “Taurus” and wheeled toward the siblings.

“All I’m saying is, no way Jimmy Paige and Robert Plant didn’t know this song,” he said. “Spirit and Zep played together. Just listen. Hear that? Right there! It’s ‘Stairway to Heaven’ without the maudlin theatrics.

“Zep even covered ‘Fresh Garbage,’ and it’s on the same damn album side,” Charlie was hot now.

“There is a song called, ‘Fresh Garbage?’” Lucy gave him that pull-away-the-football look. “Oh. My. God. That’s apropos.”

“Why don’t you just listen to ‘Stairway’ if you want to hear ‘Stairway?’” Linus asked as if he had trapped his balding friend.

“And why don’t you just have tiramisu for breakfast, dipshit?” Charlie countered.

“Bro, fine, whatever,” said Linus, holding his iPhone aloft. “But why do you keep all those fucking records. I have every song ever recorded on Spotify. It’s right here, man. Costs a fraction of those albums.”

Charlie was ready for this. He knew deep down that his friends were only as bright as the battery life in their smartphones. Except Schroeder. Schroeder understood.

“Spotify?” Charlie began. “Might as well call it ‘Stupify.’ It only costs you your soul.

“Look, if you have everything at your fingertips you really have nothing at all. What do you believe in, Linus? No, no, hear me out. Do you like Radiohead or Miley Cyrus? Do you realize you are equally invested in NWA and New Kids on the Block? You have given nothing — nothing — to support the vision of Tommy Morello. How do you sleep, Linus?” Charlie suddenly remembered Linus’ blanket thing and felt a little twinge or regret but he was rolling now.

“It’s not about pride of ownership. It’s about pride of taste,” he continued as “Taurus” transitioned to “Girl in Your Eye.”

“It’s about sitting with something tactile, like Little Richard’s first album, and contemplating how that rocked white America. It’s about digging the scratch in ‘Like a Rolling Stone’ because the first time you heard it you jumped back so hard the record skipped. It’s about listening to the final E major chord on ‘Day in the Life’ the full 40 seconds and then feeling the scrape of the needle on the label when it’s all over.”

There was a long silence. Charlie flipped the album. Randy California began to wail “Straight Arrow.”

Charlie looked at all those cardboard album spines, and said, “I’m real proud of my record collection.”