Perhaps I think vinyls are totally impractical to buy because of the lack of record players – I say this with a vinyl tattoo, and an obsession with stores that sell vinyls. I understand the aesthetic of having vinyls; they do look amazing against your wall, and you look like a true traditional media lover. However, with the resurgence of old media, print magazines and vinyls to film cameras are always getting love. Vinyls are often included in musicians’ deluxe versions, only for the classic and beautiful compact disc (CD) to be left out of the conversation way too much. The last CD store in my country, South Africa, closed in 2020, so perhaps it is not considered old media to others, but there is no denying that CDs are harder to find, and if not for a ridiculous price.
This is the benefit of coming from a country that doesn’t develop at the pace of the global North—but fix your face, South Africa introduced revolutionary banking features a decade ago that the West is only now catching up to. EFTs? I was doing them in my diapers, to the point where I’ve forgotten what EFT even stands for.
Still, South Africa tends to linger on traditional methods and media. On one hand, this makes it easier for media archivists to build libraries and preserve content. On the other hand, it means the transition to digital media drags its feet. But is this slower shift really a disadvantage for my fellow countrymen? Or, when it comes to media, does it actually reduce the risk of cultural loss?
I’m torn. Do I value the act of archiving cultural artefacts by keeping all media relevant and accessible? Or do I lean into digitisation, where reach and convenience reign supreme? I’m questioning this like it’s the meaning of life—because, honestly, I don’t see CDs anymore. At this point, if you are still reading, you are wondering why it is that I keep rambling on about a shiny silver circle that no one owns a stereo/radio for anymore anyway. This essay, reader, is a love letter for my favourite physical audio format that I did not get tattooed.
The compact disc (CD) is a digital optical disc data storage format initially co-developed by Philips and Sony to store and play digital audio records. The format was first released in Japan in 1982 and quickly grew popular in the late 80s and early 90s. The CD is widely regarded as the final dominant format of the album era, a period in popular music, roughly spanning from the mid-1960s to the early 2000s, in which the album was the primary vehicle for artistic expression, commercial success, and cultural impact. During the album era, artists and record labels prioritised full-length albums over singles, often crafting cohesive bodies of work that explored thematic, sonic, or narrative storytelling. The decline of CDs came with digital downloads, MP3s, and the emergence of streaming platforms.
I am a Gen Z, not too early that I say that I am on the cusp of whatever generation came before 1997, nor am I annoying enough to separate myself from the rest of the cohort because I was born in 2003, and was old enough to witness the beginning of Instagram, and the popularity of the Retrica filters. The tragedy of being a Gen Z is slowly seeing traditional forms of media disappear, or become so rare that they get ridiculously overpriced. Books and magazines are still treasured, and it sure is easy to carry all the world’s music in your pocket and trusty headphones, but there was once a time. My mom had a tower of CDs, alongside a tower of DVDs. We had a state-of-the-art DVD player that I was proud of and held onto tightly for four years, even after my mother’s passing. While Netflix was getting popular, I lived for a good Blu-ray version and the subsequent commentary from some of my favourite films. Being a Gen Z means I am also watching my age mates being drawn to older formats of pretty much everything, and creating new content using these now-antiquated facets of culture. Whether it’s our love of nostalgia or exhaustion from Web3 and the huge, endless ocean that is the internet, everyone is buying film cameras. On the other hand, the CDs that come in K-pop albums are often discarded in favour of the photocards, lyricbooks (which usually come with the CD, come on), posters, and photobooks. The argument can be made that all the tools to even listen to these silver disks are far and few in between, but I could say the same for lovers of vinyl without record players. It is all to treasure the format.
My earliest memories of learning how to read were reading subtitles for movies I did not have to be watching at all, and reading lyrics off of booklets. I had no idea what a producer or composer was, but I knew what Babyface was saying, and had confirmation that that was indeed Mariah Carey singing on the backing vocals. Not to flex or anything, but we had a cool stereo system as well. The blue LED screen shone as my mom fell asleep to a radio show, and I still remember seeing the light reflect on her face as I switched it off. I still remember fidgeting with the different buttons and rewinding on my favourite Michael Jackson songs as if I were a DJ performing a popular party trick. I was my mother’s only child, and despite what many others assume, my lonely upbringing was rather entertaining and taught me to be inventive. My mother and I connected over all kinds of CDs, from Tupac to Anita Baker, we would blast the music in the car on our way to the grocery shopping, and other times go looking for new music at Musica. After my father disappeared with yet another Puff Johnson album, I saved my high school pennies and replaced the album, much to my mother’s deep appreciation.
I might have veered off and lost you when this became personal, but the experience of music is just that? Personal?
Written by Nthatile Mavuso
