This could make me feel old but I’m not going to let it. This year the CD celebrates its thirtieth birthday. I was seven when I watched the famous demonstration on Tomorrow’s World of how you could spread jam on it (clean it off) and it would still play. They didn’t mention that it you cleaned it with anything more scratchy than a swan’s tail feather and then played it in a less than perfect CD player it would skip more than, oh I don’t know, a bush kangaroo. But in those early days Sony and Philips’ shiny new disc and player were the future of high quality, high fidelity digital music in a time where computers still had mono screens and games consoles still had faux-mahogany cases.
Today MP3 downloads and streaming services like Spotify are said to sound the death knell for CDs, like those same hypnotic discs were meant to do for vinyl. I still buy most of my music on CD because I like the experience of getting a new album, opening the case, putting it in the CD player and listening to it all the way through while looking at the booklet. Once it’s on the computer it’s all to easy to skip tracks and shuffle it with all the other albums. But then I’m the same with books. Sales may fall but I’m sure there will be plenty of people like me willing to buy them for some time still.
So happy thirtieth you little iridescent disc you, many happy returns, or should that be repeats.