CARLTON FLETCHER: My personal attachment to music

“I’ve been on the shelf too long, Think the words without the song. … Well music is my life And loved by me.”

— The Verve

It didn’t take much to figure that the young men waiting in line behind me to make purchases at one of the retail giants that everyone says they hate with a passion, but they always end up there when they’re in need, were talking about me.

I looked down to make sure I was properly dressed — Was my fly undone? Were the holes in my jeans authentic-looking enough? — even though, in retrospect, that was a pretty futile exercise given that the retailer in question has a website dedicated solely to the shabby dress of its customers. I didn’t see anything out of the ordinary, but I soon learned the cause for these whippersnappers’ mirth.

“Excuse me, but were you aware that you’re wasting your money buying those vinyl albums and CDs?” the bravest of the trio spoke up. The other two joined him in laughter. “There’s this thing called the Internet,” he continued, now emboldened by his comrades and slipping into smart-a$$ mode, “and all those songs you’re wasting money buying are available for free. And you can listen to them anytime … that is, if you have a computer.”

That really got them going.

I just smiled and thanked the young man for his information. See, I had no qualms about paying for the music when I finally got to the front of the check-out line.

There are a couple of things I could have told these young men, had I been so inclined, that would have at least offered an explanation for a purchase that is becoming increasingly rare.

One: I always had to — literally — save my pennies to buy first albums, then 8-tracks, then cassette tapes, then CDs to meet the need I’ve always had to have music at my fingertips, to play and listen to at my leisure. I discovered at an early age that music — more even than food and baseball — was my true passion in life. Thus, I’ve scrimped and saved, often foregoing food and other necessities to get the latest Beatles or Zeppelin or Elton John or Stevie Wonder or Bob Seeger album as soon as i learned of its existence.

There were times, usually when bills were due, that I had to put off purchases, but the second that I was able to afford those records, I got them. And I listened to them. And I fell in love with music all over again.

I’m a grown-up now, have been for quite a while. And one of the things I’ve vowed to do as I’ve accumulated enough money not to have to sell blood to get by is I support the musicians who have brought me so much pleasure in my life. I was stunned when I learned that the albums I used to buy for $2, then $5 and then $10 — and these were the good albums — were now $25 to $45, even for the ones produced by artists that have the shelf life of a mayfly.

But if there is a new album I want (the Red Hot Chili Peppers’ “Unlimited Love,” say) or a new copy of an album someone borrowed along the way and didn’t return (Pearl Jam’s “10”) or one that was just worn out (The Eagles’ “Desperado”), I have no issue with paying the going rate to get these albums. I am, to my way of thinking, paying these artists back. And I do so gladly.

Second: Sure, you can download songs or listen to them on one of a gazillion, apparently, streaming sites, and even if the quality is subpar, it’s still available. But when I want to hear Paul Simon or The Allman Brothers or Stone Temple Pilots or, hell, 21 Pilots, I want to have their music in my hands, to go through the process of putting their album on the turntable or loading a CD into the player.

Somehow, this music feels more, well, shared, mine, when I hear it this way. And there’s nothing better.

With radio now controlled by corporate “experts” who play the same handful of songs over and over, no matter the genre, and today’s artists eschewing the album format to make a few days’ splash among fickle listeners, I’ll listen to my albums and CDs.

And if that’s funny to some kid who thinks K-pop, Taylor Swift and some phony hip-hop artist born with a silver spoon singing about how hard life is is cool, I can live with that. The way I see it: His loss.