Nostalgia. It's a hell of.a drug. I've said it before.
Randy gets it, and is the first person I've seen so succinctly sum up what I feel whenever I put on a CD or rip a new MiniDisc. It just feels good. And as a collector, the dopamine rush of walking into a thrift store or our local Hard-Off, not knowing what I may find lurking on those shelves, or when a new-to-me piece of gear that I probably overpaid for arrives in the mail is exactly as he points out.
I grew up with vinyl as a teenager, spent my 20s and 30s with the arrival and peak market of CDs (I remember to this day the smell when you walked into Tower Records), and ended my 30s and spent my 40s with MiniDiscs. Even though the whole cancer thing occurred when I was deep into MD (I remember having my Sony MZ-S1 at the hospital, listening to whoever was on my radar at the time) I still have so many fond memories associated with the format.
I look at my music collection and think, "That's me. That's my vibration." And even though my tastes have expanded over the years, every one of those recordings is a part of who I am.
And since everything I buy is used from individuals, it gives a stiff middle finger to the orange felon's tariff madness.