Vinyl, a love story.

Jul 10, 2022

This passage is printed on the back of the record sleeve for my album The Onion. Vinyl was very much on my mind…

There was only one moment when he thought he might truly be in love with her. Might always be in love with her. It was a few months after they first met. They were in his room. It was mid-week. He’d come home from work. She’d come over. They didn't feel like going out. They felt like staying in. They drank wine from the bottle. He put on some records. He played her Talking Heads. She took off her skirt and danced on the bed in her tights. He played her Cesária Évora. She lay on her back and hugged her knees. He played her Nick Drake. She said to let it play. To come lie down. She showed him a threatening hole in her tights, just below the knee. He said it didn't look too serious. She told him he didn't know tights; it was the beginning of the end. He admitted he wasn't very familiar with nylon. She asked if he had any black nail varnish. He said he didn't have any colour nail varnish, but he could sew. She laughed and said he could try, but that tights have a very short lifespan, like butterflies, and would he try to sew up a butterfly? She explained that even nail varnish was just a temporary fix. That tights were basically a short-term investment. He ripped the hole to make it larger and kissed the skin he found beneath. A run unravelled down her leg. He trailed it down towards her ankle with his finger. He ripped another hole and followed it back up her thigh. She asked if they could stay in his room for at least a week. They discussed how many days they could go without food. He pulled the cover over them and she wrapped around him tight. He traced imaginary train tracks all over her body, noticing for the first time how her limbs join up. He travelled along her collar bone and let her shoulder guide him down her arm, changing direction at the elbow until he reached her hand. Veins, knuckles, fingers, nails, one two three four five. Side 1 came to an end. He didn't jump up to flip the record over. Her breathing changed and he knew she’d fallen asleep. He listened to the needle skim over the spinning vinyl, hardly audible. He listened to her breathe. In, out. Their hearts were beating in sync, slowly slowing down.