My First Album Love: Tommy

The first record I ever owned may or may not have been one that was cut from the back of a cereal box and played on my Fisher Price record player.

But the first record with which I fell in love was neither a cereal jingle, nor even a children's album at all. When I was nine years old, I fell hard in love with The Who's Tommy.

The album itself belonged to an older cousin. I remember pulling the record out of its sleeve and my cousin showing me how to properly handle a record album. As he placed my hands around the edge of the record and explained about fingerprints and dust and grooves, I read the titles. I asked him - what does "Overture" mean?

Mom and dad had this stereo at the time (this was 1970, we're talking stone age here) that was part liquor cabinet, part music machine. It was piece of furniture that was an oblong, wooden box plunked down on spindly legs. On the top of the box on the right was a sliding door. Opening that revealed a turntable and a radio tuner. The box also had a sliding cabinet on the front left side which, when opened, revealed several bottles of gin and Harvey's Bristol Cream.

My cousin showed me how to drop the record on the turntable. Until then, I had been using the Fisher Price system and was a bit haphazard about how I handled my cardboard records. He was almost reverent about it, holding the edges with his palm, placing the album gently on the turntable, dropping the needle on the groove by hand because he didn't trust the automatic arm to do it right.

He turned the volume up. The unmistakable crackle and hiss of needle upon vinyl filled the room.

We listened to the overture and he explained that each time the music changed, it was a piece of another song on the album. As the overture ended and "It's a Boy" came on, my cousin's friends appeared outside and my music lesson abruptly ended. I asked him to leave the record and he did.

So I sat on our overstuffed living room couch that afternoon and listened to Tommy in its entirety. When the first side ended, I grabbed the vinyl with my palms, just like he showed me. I felt so much older than my eight years as I flipped the record over and gently laid the needle down. No more cereal jingles for me. No more Banana Splits or whatever cartoon music I had been listening to before then. I had discovered a new world.

Article Author: Michele Catalano

Michele is from Long Island and writes about two of her favorite things - punk rock and fast cars -along with her better half at Faster Than the World.

Visit Michele Catalano's author page — Michele Catalano's Blog