My Vinyl Addiction and the Perfect Turntable

By Danny R. Phillips, unrepentant recordaholic

Hi, my name’s Danny and I’m a vinyl junkie. Not the vinyl slapped on the front seat of a 1973 Chevy Malibu. No, I’m talking records man, RECORDS! From my earliest memories, I have loved the dark wonder of the LP. I would sit surrounded by my mother’s collection, everything from The Faces to Supertramp, Everly Brothers to The Bellamy Brothers. I recall listening to records for hours on end, ignoring Sesame Street, often wearing a pair of those 1970’s “earmuff” headphones, tightened to the last notch to accommodate my five-year-old head, pressing them tight with my hands so that not a note could escape.

There is beauty in the vinyl format that is lost in the cold, sterile world of the CD or download. Compression of the file takes away from the warmth and luster hiding in the grooves, the pops and cracks of imperfection, the majesty of the jacket (a gatefold is like Christmas), and the thought of the skill and sweat needed to make this thing of geeky enjoyment a reality. I may sound like a hipster here, championing the superiority of an arcane and antiquated technology, but this is not a new thing to me, as I said before. Vinyl has enjoyed a renaissance, its sales increasing greatly over the past six years, so I am far from the only one who enjoys records.

Now, I am not an audiophile per se. I do not lust after deleted Smiths singles (truth be told I love Johnny Marr, HATE the Smiths), forgotten afro punk bands or early Zappa records. No, the records I buy I play as well as worship. It is the joy of the experience, the thrill of the search, not the superiority of ownership.

My friends laughed at my collection. “Why do you want records? CDs are much better.” However, I knew different; I knew their secret connection. All I needed was a great turntable for which I did not have to sell my first born or trade the liver I abused nightly in my college days.

I dreamed of the SOTA turntable but, while being a great turntable, it was far beyond my wallet’s depth. I searched and searched, listening to my trusty AIWA spinner until I hit upon what I needed, what I had been waiting for: The Numark TTXUSB.

The Numark is sought after by DJs (second only to the Technics SL-1200, the legendary “Wheels of Steel”) for its direct drive motor, pitch control, reverse function on the platter, portability, and many other things I do not hope to understand. I am not a DJ; my collection contains no House, Techno, dubstep or rap aside from some classics like Fear of a Black Planet and Paul’s Boutique. I went for because of its reported durability, the recommendation of friend and music journalist Nick Spacek, the price point ($399), and the fact that, with a USB, I could archive my hundreds of records on my computer for ease of hitting the road, the last one being the only weakness I will concede to when it comes to vinyl.

It is perfect for what I need. It plugged directly into my surround sound (no pre-amp needed), was relatively lightweight, and plays 45s, 33s, 78s. Its ease of transferring music to my PC is great for a computer idiot like me.

My search ended; joy and wonder flooded my heart. I have found my turntable and I have named him Frank after my love of the misunderstood monster. Life is indeed good.

Therefore, my friends, if you are looking for a turntable, the Numark TTX may be the one for you. I am done searching the globe for the right machine for my beloved collection; my quest has drawn to a close. Now I shall step away from this keyboard, don my trusty earmuff headphones and take another warm shot of The Velvet Underground’s “Sunday Morning.”