What’s the value of a thing?
I have a conundrum.
A large gold box sits in the first of three vinyl cases. It shines and shouts, begging me to open it.
This box, a vinyl recording for “Hamilton,” was purchased because I wanted my piece of history, especially since a thousand dollar show ticket is far out of my reach.
In this fashion, I settled for the four LP set retailing somewhere between $70–100, depending mostly on the buying method, but as the the New York Times highlighted recently, my cost pales in comparison to the hottest ticket currently on Broadway.
On average, first run tickets for the show cost $172, but some fans are more than willing to pay higher prices on the secondary market.
By purchasing resold tickets on sites like StubHub, Craigslist and Ticketmaster, tickets are being listed for as much $5,018 each, but most are sold for roughly $872, a markup of $700 above the current average original ticket price.
With that said, spending a paycheck or two on one item may seem incredibly foolish to some, but it does hint at something humans tend to favor, which is an interest in experiencing the latest fleeting moments our culture has to offer, regardless of the price we inevitably pay.
The quest to know everything
My favorite places to buy vinyl are a combination of online retailers and two physical stores, Luna music in Indianapolis and the Half Priced Books chain.
The nature of my purchasing habits with vinyl depends on the very source I use to buy the records, and, of course, the effort and cost expunged to reach my desire.
When I dig for old, damaged, scratched jazz, soul and rock records at Half Priced Books, my goal is usually to look for samples in hip-hop.
This method helped me find samples for countless hit records, such as singles by The Notorious B.I.G., one a sample from Diana Ross and another from the “Rocky” soundtrack, and that gave me a greater appreciation for music sources and inspiration.
Sampling taught me that Kendrick Lamar can reach inspiration from James Brown just as J. Cole can impressively morph a song around a Japanese chorus group on his latest double platinum album “2014 Forest Hills Drive.”
But those kinds of records tend to cost less than $3 a piece, so while I value them artistically, the financial weight is less pronounced. However, with newer or hard-to-find records, I find myself more likely to hoard them like treasures, playing them infrequently, and coddling them like the children I have yet to raise.
This is certainly not the first time I’ve treasured a particular record or collection. Whenever I’ve spent more than $40 on a record, which indeed is a very rare occurrence, my mind instinctively reads the situation far differently than a $3 item.
Perhaps it is the hype surrounding the phenomenon and one’s passion for collecting. As someone with very little interest in theater, I found the premise of a hip-hop inspired play very unique so I couldn’t resist grabbing my personal copy of the show.
And although it is true that the idea of a hip-hop play has been done before, most notably with “Club XII,” a production that introduced enthusiasts to The Fugees, Hamilton has without question taken over the art world in ways only few works have since the 21st century.
In a world where attention-spans and distractions are at an all time high, seemingly at least, having one work of art capture people from all walks of life is indeed remarkable.
It reminds me of when “Harry Potter” first stormed libraries, bookshelves and the screen, or how the Playstation 2 captured the world’s living rooms to become the highest-selling console ever.
Somehow, someway, a few “things” will reach the masses by conquering our ears, eyes, touch and minds.
This is popular culture at its finest.
And then we will covet the work. We will covet it because we don’t want to miss out on what the world is currently fascinated by. It will be on the news, television, online, and perhaps this is truly why I’m giving “Hamilton” a chance.
Maybe I was simply tired of feeling like the only one who hadn’t listened to the soundtrack yet.
But, of course, there are clearly billions who have no interest in this, and they never will. Most people in the world have a lot more to worry about than the hottest thing in theater. Some of these people reside in our own country!
This thought reminds me of a video I saw once where an old white lady on a train in New York City did not recognize Jay Z, no less his music.
I could’ve written it off as blasphemy but really it’s just math.
We can’t experience everything and we can’t know of everyone, no matter how groundbreaking a work of art may be to the general public, so what we must face as aficionados is this:
It’s definitely cool to care about something very deeply. Hold on to it for as long as you can. But remember, it will, in some respect, be an infinite chase of experiences that will never suffice.
What fate dictates
Money and happiness can, at times, go hand in hand, at least in a fleeting sense.
Money, once we have it, can be spent on various moments that encourage joy, the saving of memories, and future nostalgia. What I choose to spend my dollar on, music mostly, is my way of holding on to the time I currently live in, my piece of history.
I believe sneaker enthusiasts, fashionistas, bookworms, theater nerds, (some) gun collectors, stamp collectors, and liquor bottle hoarders all do the same thing, which is keep a firm grip of their time on Earth through the purchase of valuable goods.
And whether or not they realize this themselves is beyond me, but what is truly the difference? We all want our memories and mark to be left in life and that drives us to cherish the very “things” alleged to define who we are.
The eureka moment
What I now realize, after all these words, is that I should hurry the hell up and open the damn record. Really, there’s no reason to wait.
Sure I could keep hoarding it, maybe wait until the value rises 10, maybe 15 years from now, if vinyl is still even a thing, but what use is that? The perceived value in the future will be nothing compared to the sense of enjoyment I may experience when I finally listen to this musical in full.
Essentially, what collectors have to curve sometimes is the desire to hoard and own instead of experience and enjoy.
Sometimes our minds will tell us to reserve an item, but shunning this ideal is actually what we should be doing. Yes, my $5 Coltrane album has less monetary value compared to some other records I have, but does that mean I will think of it any less?
Of course not, and I think this philosophy is applicable in various respects.
So now that I’m finally learning not to hoard the next goal is to experience. And after I finally realize that experience also isn’t enough, hopefully I’ll learn to share, too.
Sharing is caring after all, and I definitely can’t share something that’s still wrapped in plastic.
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