Why Analog is Coming Back

As a bibliophile and a writer, I have always been fairly partial to all things analog. There is something far more magical about holding a book in your hand, inhaling the special odor of timeless dust floating from among its pages, and allowing your imagination to be pulled physically into the world within the flyleaves. There is something timeless about a pen and paper, the ink flowing from your fingers onto the papery surface like blood spilling from your own veins. The experience of reading the daily news from a physical paper transcends the mere absorption of current events, transporting us by means of inky fingers, fresh-smelling paper, and origami refolding acts to the bustle of the wider world. Not to mention, listening to music on vinyl is like nothing else in this world. There is a richness of sound, a depth of experience, and an inextinguishable flame of passion that is sparked by the ritual of buying, owning, caring for, and listening to records. A labor of love is necessary to garner the full emotional connection.

Perhaps we thought that such labors were gratuitous, and therefore we have attempted to erase them from our every day. While convenience is an admirable goal, I think there are certain labors of love that are necessary for us to undertake in order to preserve our humanity. I am no Luddite, I believe technology can solve many problems; however, it can also efficiently sterilize creativity, art, and communication. After nearly two years being cut off from one another, save for digital interaction, we ache for true connection. The things that bring us the most happiness, and that make us feel the most alive, are intrinsically physical. No digital experience can compare with the emotional reaction we feel when we touch another person, or feel the sun on our face. A screen cannot illicit the corporeal intimacy we experience when we sing and laugh out loud, when music reverberates in our bones, when we smell a room full of books, or when we watch a film in a theater full of people. I want to touch, to interact, to create, and to feel. Despite our newfound obsession with, and immersion into, the digital landscape of the world, I think the rest of humanity feels the same way (even if they don't realize it yet).

As James Beamon said, “Films began pushing the envelope to be racier and edgier. Movies and the world have been through so much since then. Now that we’ve seen the distant, bloody, edge of racy, frayed, gristled, gruesome and gory there's an insatiable hunger for nostalgia.”

Ten years ago, the world laughed at the thought that vinyl would enjoy a resurgence, yet here we are. Amidst the flippant jokes that libraries have no further use, and that bookstores have no further place, book sales soared in recent years. Teenagers at a school here in Colorado started up their own print news magazine last year, citing a longing for physical media, interaction, and shared creativity. Analog forms of nearly everything are being revived, celebrated, collected, and invested in, and nostalgia is everything. We are burned out on the digital platforms, and ultimately, we crave a return to the real. We feel a need to restore what is really important to us at our core…the actions and interactions that make us truly human. Let us hope that there is never a day in the future when we forget the power of a simple pen or pencil, or indeed, the place it holds in our very souls.