Intro: Unpacking my Antilibrary

Wherein we discuss the rationale for this project and outline some of the basics

Libraries are aspirations to contain knowledge, putting bounds on what can be known. Collections are similar, but they capture feelings, memories. Record collections are a mix between the two, cross-fading between the broader historical resonance of an artistic product and the particular relevance within someone’s life.

When you have a record collection, there’s stuff you reach for to set the scene or establish a mood. But it’s inevitable that some of the albums are relegated to the dustier shelves, not getting the attention they deserve. You might even buy something and entirely forget about it. Those left-out discs become an antilibrary, the kind of research resource that Umberto Eco assembled to inspire creativity from chaos, novelty and discovery from a space that you seed and prune, like a garden.

At the time of writing, I recently inherited my parents records. Truth be told, I had always thought of them as almost mine, but not quite. Probably similar to the way an archivist looks at all the materials in their charge. The information buried in the grooves was received wisdom from a world I could never experience, but I could augment it, protect it, spin it back.

I developed my personal backstory through this music, listening to the Beatles and bounding from chair to chair when the floor was lava; dancing to CSNY with my sister at our first house (which was a very, very, very fine house, indeed); spinning progressive rock as I learned to drive; listening to hip-hop and smoking weed with weirdos at my first job; and countless other memories with friends and without, across residences and across time.

Over the years, digging through and assembling the collection in second-hand shops and record stores and flea markets was similar to the literary critic Walter Benjamin’s process of ordering from booksellers’ catalogues: “There are previous disappointments, but also happy finds.” I anticipate that going back through my collection for neglected records will probably produce the same kind of joyful discovery.

This project isn’t just about listening to music; it’s a journey through time, an exploration of how these albums have influenced my life and reflect broader cultural shifts. By revisiting these records, I aim to uncover new meanings and share insights that resonate with others who find pieces of themselves in music.

Please join me, as my antilibrary becomes my library.