I'm 35 years old, which means that I grew up with records in my childhood home. Back then, I didn't understand the relevance of holding on to that precious artifact. I had not yet become a preservationist of music on vinyl. If I knew then what I know now, as the saying goes.
Stepping into any place that specializes in selling vinyl is always a source of joy and excitement for me. However, when I look around the place, I rarely ever see young black folks and never see women of color. This always sends my mind spinning down all sorts of thought paths. Where are the black folks? Where are the sistas?
Who is going to preserve black music? There are plenty of vinyl artifacts out there; yet, I don't know if there is any interest on the behalf of black folks to archive it. In fifty years, what will Funkadelic's Maggot Brain mean to a generation? Will it hold any relevance or significance at all? This could be problematic. For me personally, I believe that it is my duty to honor the brilliance of the musical artists of days past. I, and many others, are the keepers of their masterpieces. I liken it to the griots and storytellers who passed down wisdom through storytelling.
Call my perceptions old school, but the music being made today does not have the staying power nor the critical voice that music of our past holds. In fifty years, are generations going to write, with an analytical lens, about how Rick Ross’s Rise to Power changed a nation or a culture? Did it add value to the community or deplete it? What does that leave for young black generations to revere?
I would love to see more Black folks and women of color diggin’ through the crates to find those treasures that transformed our lives and the lives of generations before us. It will mean so much that when I am sixty years of age, I’ll be able to pass my collection on to a young soul. It’s a rich history that we should be the keepers of.
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