“Taking a chance on a record”: lost vinyl consumption practices in the age of music streaming

ABSTRACT In the age of music streaming, the physicality of vinyl has never been so appealing. While studies have focused on the medium itself and the record store as a static site of consumption, this article explores lost vinyl consumption practices that traverse time and space via consumers’ nostalgic recollections. In-depth, semi-structured interviews were conducted with 14 active consumers of vinyl who are members of the UK indie pop music scene using their chosen album artwork as props to stimulate discussion. The findings from the thematic data analysis reveal a trajectory of practices centered on the purchase of records and the effort of acquiring and appreciating vinyl over time. This article contributes new insights into materiality and consumption by foregrounding the role of nostalgia and temporality in shaping consumers’ long-term relationship with legacy technological objects and determining how consumption practices are re-contextualized in times of personal and cultural discontinuities.


Introduction
Ever since the introduction of digital music, discourses on the death of physical music have circulated. Such discussions have contributed to wider competing narratives around digitalizationfrom romanticized visions of the pre-digital age to the potential for digital formats to represent a form of liberation from intellectual property rights (see, for example, Albrechtslund's 2020 work on digitized reading culture). The desire for the seemingly more authentic pre-digital era manifests across multiple sites of consumption, accelerated by the intensification and homogenization of consumption in the digital age (Ritzer and Miles 2019). For example, Brewis and Jack's analysis of fastfood advertisements reveals nostalgia for when "life apparently moved much more slowly" (2005, their emphasis), while Husemann and Eckhardt (2019) argue that consumers increasingly seek technological deceleration.
While the terms "shift" and "revolution" are often used to describe the transformation from the analogue to the digital age, the line between the two music eras is not so clear cut (Chivers Yochim and Biddinger 2008;Magaudda 2011;Bartmanski and Woodward 2015;Bennett and Rogers 2016). For instance, sales of new vinyl have steadily increased in the US since 2006 (Katz 2015, 278), while some consumers never stopped listening to vinyl. Indeed, vinyl remains the preferred format in non-mainstream genres and subcultures (Hayes 2006;Winters 2016, 47-48) such as hip hop, ska-reggae, post-punk, and dance (Plasketes 1992; Bartmanski and Woodward 2015). In these contexts, vinyl did not die, so it never needed resurrecting. This is true of the UK indie pop music scene, whose long-term members have continued to produce and consume vinyl records since the 1980s. Unlike new vinyl consumers, whose interest in legacy technology has been the subject of scholars' curiosity (see, for example, Hayes 2006;Fernandez and Beverland 2019), the indie pop scene is fertile ground to explore consumers' long-term commitment to the format. This research stems from an interest in the role of album artwork in vinyl consumption beyond records' physical and musical qualities. In-depth, semi-structured interviews were conducted employing consumers' chosen album artwork to stimulate discussion, the results of which revealed that while participants are still consuming and producing records, their consumption practices shifted in the transition from youth to adulthood and now also include listening to digital music. During this process, the record artwork was discovered to function as a gateway to participants' nostalgic recollections of consumption practices, which they deemed to have been lost in the age of music streaming. The relevant literature was then explored to frame the research findings.
This article aims to further our understanding of the "multi-layered" story of vinyl (Bartmanski and Woodward 2018) by foregrounding underexplored aspects of vinyl consumption that have been secondary to the physical dimensions of the medium and which are now being re-contextualized in the music streaming era (Magaudda 2011). Responding to calls to examine "vinyl scenes" and how vinyl records are purchased (Bartmanski and Woodward 2015) and to explore intangible aspects of the experience of music in relation to the past (Bennett and Rogers 2016), a trajectory of lost practices that consumers associate with the medium is revealed. Drawing on materiality and nostalgia as a guiding framework reveals consumers' sense of loss and highlights the overlooked value they associate with wider vinyl consumption practices.
Addressing this gap has implications for consumption, markets, and culture by identifying the counterintuitive value in the efforts associated with legacy material artifacts in the digital age. By demonstrating that the appeal of vinyl transcends its physicality and extends to wider consumption practices that traverse time and space, this article contributes new insights into the dynamic nature of materiality in consumption and the role of personal and cultural discontinuities in shaping consumers' relationships with the material world. In doing so, this study also foregrounds vinyl as an iconic cultural symbol of superior consumption practices in the indie pop scene.
To achieve this aim, studies of vinyl consumption and materiality are first synthesized before turning to the literature concerning nostalgia, to frame the analysis of participants' recollections of vinyl consumption rituals. Then, how the UK indie pop music scene turned out to be an illustrative site to explore these relationships is explained and the research methodology is outlined. The research findings are presented in the form of a trajectory of rituals associated with the consumption of vinyl recordsfrom the anticipation of record release day to the purchase and commitment to specific records. The study ends with a discussion of the contributions of this article to consumption and materiality.
Vinyl consumption and materiality in the music streaming age The appeal of vinyl has been partly explained by the format's human qualities, as perceived when contrasted with its more polished digital counterpart (Chivers Yochim and Biddinger 2008). Notable features include its warm sound compared to digital music's "cold sterility" (Katz 2015, 276), its fragility (Chivers Yochim and Biddinger 2008) and the "richness" of the medium (Lepa and Tritakis 2016). While streaming enables consumers to listen to and skip tracks at the click of a button (Datta, Knox, and Bronnenberg 2018), preparing the turntable, carefully removing the record from its sleeve, and contemplating the album artwork are some of the unique interactions consumers have with vinyl (Hayes 2006;Nokelainen and Dedehayir 2015;Bartmanski and Woodward 2015). This differs from the consumption of digital music, which tends to be experienced alongside other activities as a soundtrack to everyday life (Fuentes, Hagberg, and Kjellberg 2019) or as "media noise" offering consumers a sense of connectedness (Bradshaw and Chatzidakis 2016).
The appeal of vinyl extends to the independent record store, celebrated annually on Record Store Day (Harvey 2017). In contrast to the ease of access and discovery offered by streaming platforms such as Spotify and YouTube (Sinclair and Tinson 2017), this authentic space of consumption (Hendricks 2016;Goulding and Derbaix 2019) connects like-minded individuals and allows for knowledge sharing (Nokelainen and Dedehayir 2015;Bartmanski and Woodward 2015). Particularly pertinent is the role of record store clerks, whose expertise is deemed to be more attractive than music suggestions informed by algorithms on streaming platforms (Hracs and Jansson 2020). Associated consumption practices have also received considerable attention among scholars from "walking into a store, picking up a record, touching it, and going home and listening to it" (Hendricks 2016), the art of "crate digging" in hopes of stumbling across a piece of interest (Bartmanski and Woodward 2015), and the "quest" for a specific record (Goulding and Derbaix 2019) to the ways in which record collections are amassed and managed (Shuker 2010).
Building on this research, this study draws on analyses of materialitydefined as "co-creations, interactions and relations between human subjects, or selves, and others" (Borgerson 2013)to explore the role of possessions in shaping everyday consumption practices and to uncover their cultural meanings (Miller 1987). Responding to the call to further understand how relationships between possessions and owners are formed and maintained in a broad range of settings (Borgerson 2013), this article aims to extend an understanding of the material contexts of vinyl consumption by spotlighting the wider, underexplored consumption practices associated with the format. Borgerson (2013) also encourages researchers to investigate how interactions between objects and subjects evolve over time rather than considering them static processes. Indeed, the materiality of objects shapes the temporal dimensions of consumption practices (Southerton 2013;Woermann and Rokka 2015). Jalas (2009) also suggests that interactions with the material world ground human temporalities and ultimately contribute to perceptions of time. Emotional connections between subjects and objects are also reinforced when the practices surrounding the objects unfold over time and space (Kuruoğlu and Ger 2015). Further, while the role of materiality in shaping consumption rituals has been demonstrated in single spacesfor instance, in the context of the home (Chitakunye and Maclaran 2014)further research into the consumption practices associated with material possessions spanning multiple spaces is needed. Overall, understanding consumers' commitment to material objects requires examining how these relationships evolve over time while simultaneously considering the mutual dynamics between consumption practices and consumer temporality (Southerton 2013).
In the context of vinyl consumption, scholars argue that it is the physicality of the record, its encasing sleeve and the turntable, as well as the interactions with these while the record is playing that are central to its appeal (Bartmanski and Woodward 2015;Fernandez and Beverland 2019). However, this emphasis reduces the materiality of vinyl consumption to a static process, centered around the "moment of listening" (Magaudda 2011) or "as the record spins" (Fernandez and Beverland 2019) and fixed in space, i.e. in front of the turntable or at the record store. While individuals' consumption practices are acknowledged, they are rarely the focal points of study and are either taken for granted or deemed secondary to the physicality of the medium. What has yet to be explored is the web of consumption practices associated with vinyl records stemming from the constraints in production and distribution of physical records "back then." Next, an examination of the literature on nostalgia provides a guiding framework to explore the dynamic nature of materiality and how it intertwines with temporality.

Vinyl as a vehicle of personal and collective nostalgia
Nostalgia implies a longing for seemingly superior times (Belk 1990), often involving the idealization and isolation of only positive aspects of the past (Havlena and Holak 1991;Wilson 2014, 27). Such a golden age has been connected to life stages such as youth (Plater 2014, 107), with childhood frequently retreated to as a means of escaping "the burdens and obligations of adulthood" (Moran 2002). Relatedly, Holbrook and Schindler (2003) point to "a period of intense affective consumption," where inclinations towards certain products that were fashionable when one was growing up are likely to remain stable throughout one's lifetime. Evoked by discontent in the present, nostalgia can emanate from periods of change (Grainge 2000) and feeling disconnected with one's past self (Davis 1979, 34;Stern 1992;Goulding 2001). At its core is a perceived loss of authenticity (Baudrillard 1994), which may potentially be the result of the acceleration of consumption in the present (Cross 2017).
Nostalgia takes various forms that are first distinguished in this study to clarify the focus of this article. Notably, Higson (2014) refers to "modern, temporal" nostalgia, driven by an unattainable desire to revisit the past as a response to modernization. Reading nostalgia in this way is particularly insightful in terms of understanding the perceived deficiencies of the present circumstances as much as the glorified past (Pickering and Keightley 2006;Higson 2014). It differs from post-modern nostalgia, which is "atemporal," in that it deals with the recycling of not-so-distant pasts, largely in the name of marketing to consumers (Higson 2014) and to establish a "regime of memory" rather than telling the truth (Godfrey and Lilley 2009). This article primarily concerns itself with temporal nostalgia to understand the direct relationship that long-term vinyl consumers have with vinyl records.
Further, some, particularly earlier accounts of nostalgia, take for granted its personal nature, while other research underscores the role of collectivism (see, for example, Baker and Kennedy 1994;Goulding 2001). This can be illustrated by nostalgia that is grounded in shared understandings among members of the same culture (Havlena and Holak 1996). While this distinction enables the identification of a shared sense of loss, personal and collective nostalgia may be inextricably interwoven. Davis (1979, 124) points out that while a classic song from a particular year is "a collectively oriented symbol," it may also trigger intimate recollections unique to the listener's own personal history.
Similarly, some conceive music as a vehicle of memories that connect the listener to the moment the music was recorded or the track was heard (DeNora 2000;Bull 2009). Nostalgia abounds in the digital age since developments in technology and media create "new dynamics between past and present" (Hamilton et al. 2014). Belk (1990) argues nostalgia is amplified in the presence of genuine physical objects, while Bennett and Rogers (2016) claim that analogue music formats connect individuals to past "ideals and experiences." Notably, recollections triggered by music are not limited to personal experiences but also include cultural and social practices (van Dijck 2009, 116). For instance, cassette mix tapes may trigger memories due to the effort, time investment, and stories associated with their production (Jansen 2009;Bolin 2016), while the transistor radio triggers "technostalgia," i.e. the yearning for a bygone era mediated through the consumption of past technologies (Fickers 2009).
In the context of this study, vinyl records are framed as triggers of nostalgia for a seemingly superior and simpler past (Shuker 2010, 66;Reynolds 2011, 74;Katz 2015). The appeal of vinyl is also explained by researchers of analogue nostalgia (Marks 2002, 152) and encompasses longing for the features of analogue media, including signs of age or wear and tear that indicate usage or signal what the most popular page, track, or moment was (Schrey 2014). In contrast to digital music, which shows no obvious signs of the passage of time (Boym 2001, 347), the idiosyncrasies; for instance, the "scratch and crackle noises" (Bennett and Rogers 2016), of a specific vinyl record can directly connect its owner to past times, harking back to the very moment the record was produced (Bartmanski and Woodward 2015;Bolin 2016). In other words, drawing on the concept of "aura" put forward by Benjamin (1936), the authenticity of vinyl stems from the uniqueness of the story behind each consumer and each record.
Owing to its ability to trigger a web of memories, music also functions as a conduit for establishing individuals' life narratives (DeNora 2000), marking periods and moments that can be revisited through its consumption (Nowak 2016, 13). Nowak (2016) also notes that this is especially pronounced in the transition from youth to adulthood, during which there is less time to discover new music. In the case of vinyl records, consumers' collections can serve as "tangible documents of their lives" that reinforce their own life narratives (Shankar, Elliott, and Fitchett 2009). Moreover, vinyl record owners may specifically associate their records with their youth, when they first began listening to music (Plasketes 1992;Bolin 2016). In the context of this article, understanding consumers' long-term relationships with vinyl requires consideration of how their own lives have changed and key turning points that they associate with music.
Conceptualizing nostalgia as a "shaping cultural force in the contemporary world" (Hamilton et al. 2014) frames an exploration of the relationships between long-term vinyl consumers and the medium. Indeed, nostalgia for past vinyl consumption practices is elicited as a reaction to changes of music format, the associated acceleration of music consumption from analogue to digital, as well as the evolution of individuals' life circumstances from youth to adulthood. Further, the focus on vinyl as a meaningful artifact uncovers the "evolving network of vivid memories" that are triggered and mediated by it and longingly recollected by long-term consumers (Belk 1990). While a wealth of literature in marketing and consumption has focused on atemporal nostalgia (Higson 2014) and the recycling of retro styles (for example, Brown, Kozinets, and Sherry 2003;Reynolds 2011) this article centers on long-term vinyl consumers' personal and collective nostalgia for directly experienced practices.

Context and methodology
The Indie pop music scene Indie pop is a genre of independent guitar pop music with a "do it yourself" (DIY) ethos, implying that anyone can have a go or take part, but on a much smaller scale in comparison to the major record labels or established independent labels such as Rough Trade. With its roots in punk and post-punk, the scene developed in the UK in the 1980s and centered around fanzines written by enthusiasts to share information about the bands and the music (Dale 2018). Later years saw a growing interest in indie pop from mainstream music actors, such as NME, who disrupted the organic nature of the scene and precipitated its decline until the scene underwent a revival in the 2000s (ibid.). As an independent scene, indie pop wears its alternative production methods and organization on its sleeve, strongly emphasizing what sets it apart from the mainstream popular music industry (Hesmondhalgh 1999). Many members of the indie pop scene still actively produce and consume analogue music such as vinyl records. According to Fonarow (2006, 48), these symbolize skepticism regarding technological progress, human touch, and personal nostalgia for their introduction to indie music. Dolan (2010) emphasizes the kitsch nature of indie pop music that puts a new spin on ideas borrowed from the past. Indeed, indie pop adopts a simplistic style and often uses unusual instruments and old equipment such as the melodica, "thus preserving the memory of some distant and imaginary past" (Dolan 2010). The indie pop genre has also been said to show signs of a refusal to grow up, with an idealized and pure image of childhood stemming from "grief for lost spontaneity, impulsiveness and unselfconsciousness" at its heart, as exemplified by band names such as Soup Dragons, Woondentops, Five Go Down to the Sea, Flowerpot Men, and Talulah Gosh (Reynolds 2007, 15). Ultimately, through their close relationships with records from both the production and consumption sides, long-standing members of the UK indie pop music scene have become well suited to further an understanding of the meanings and practices associated with vinyl.

Data collection
Semi-structured interviews were conducted with 14 long-standing members of the indie pop music scene, including two separate interviews with couples who were running independent record labels. These were supported by two years of immersion in the scene, which was necessary to build rapport prior to conducting the interviews (Musante and DeWalt 2010, 100) as the researcher was not part of the scene, nor a fan of indie pop music before carrying out this research. By attending approximately 20 indie pop gigs and events ranging from weeknight gigs to events that took place over an entire day or weekendsuch as the annual Indietracks festivalthe researcher eventually became a fan of the music and an active audience member, which, in turn, enabled lengthy discussions about indie music and culture.
All interviews were transcribed, and recordings ranged from 40 to 135 min, with an average duration of 85 min. The interviews took place in different cities across the UK in a broad range of venues, including pubs, restaurants, cafes, and even one participant's home. Given the initial focus was on album artwork in the early stages of this research, participants were requested to bring album artwork they considered personally meaningful to the interviews. These functioned as props to spark discussion about the visual aspects of vinyl that contribute to the multi-sensory experience of music. In light of the initial findings, the focus shifted when it became apparent that the album artwork acted as a gateway to past music consumption practices ingrained in participants' everyday lives (DeNora 2000, 46), as supported by the existing research on the role of album artwork in conveying meaning (Borgerson and Schroeder 2002) and in helping music consumption communities remember their pasts (O'Reilly et al. 2017).
All interviews started with "warm up" questions to evaluate participants' involvement in the indie pop scene. Then, a series of seven questions focused on their choice of album artwork were asked, aiming to uncover how it related to their overall experience of music (e.g. "Can you talk me through your experiences of listening to music? For example, what do you do when you listen to the music associated with your chosen album?"). For all participants, answering these questions meant reflecting on their past involvement and consumption of vinyl records, both prior to and while being part of the scene.

Selection of research participants
Long-term members of the indie pop scene who had a close relationship with vinyl records were sought via a combination of purposive and snowball sampling techniques (Bryman 2008, 458). There was also an element of convenience sampling in that participants who regularly attended gigs were more easily accessible (Marshall 1996). All participants had been regularly involved in the scene since the 1980s or 1990s; therefore, they were able to provide rich insights into the evolution of their music consumption habits over several years and life stages. All participants grew up consuming physical music formats, including cassettes, vinyl records and CDs, and had experienced the transition to digital music and the inception of streaming platforms. Despite continuing to consume vinyl, however, most participants stated they did not purchase or listen to records as much as they used to in their youth. In addition, many reported occasionally using streaming platforms, usually out of convenience.
Participants mostly occupied multiple roles within the scene, either as long-term fans, promoters, musicians and/or producers (Table 1). For instance, Andy was an illustrator and promoter, Pete B was a musician and producer, and Caroline and Darren played in a band and ran a record label. As such, these consumers were presumed to be more actively involved and committed to vinyl than consumers who might simply have accrued vinyl records over time and not wanted to get rid of their collection. Participants' ages were estimated to range from early 30s to late 50s, although exact age data was not collected, as this appeared to go against the scene's inherent childishness and refusal to grow up (Reynolds 2007, 15) and emphasis on inclusion.

Data analysis and interpretation
Interviews were transcribed and analyzed shortly after being conducted, which allowed for the continual identification of new and existing codes in the transcribed data to guide the next interviews and to observe when data saturation was reached. The majority of the codes had emerged by the ninth interview. As a result, the following three interviews provided more depth to existing arguments and ideas that had already been explored (for instance, Pete G purchasing records remotely). Thematic analysis was employed owing to its flexible approach to data analysis that enables it to "generate unanticipated insights" (Braun and Clarke 2006). To assess the credibility of the findings, a copy of the first version of this article was sent to each participant for respondent validation.
The prevalence of nostalgia as an overarching theme in the transcribed data became more evident when it was noticed that participants frequently compared seemingly superior consumption practices associated with vinyl in the past with their current perceptions and experience of digital music. Notably, participants did not always explicitly state that things were better in the past (Davis 1979, 18). Rather, a sense of nostalgia could be deduced when digital and analogue experiences of music were compared. Similarly, the context and tone of the interviews must be acknowledged to understand participants' privileging of past engagements and recollections of vinyl consumption in comparison to their present perceptions of music.

Findings
The findings reveal a trajectory of participants' vinyl consumption practices, perceived through the lens of nostalgia, from the rituals associated with the anticipation and lead-up to buying a record to purchase rituals and post-purchase commitment.
"The event is lost": pre-purchase rituals Along the trajectory of vinyl consumption, participants longingly spoke of their past routines leading up to a purchase. These recollections are examples of collective nostalgia as they represent direct experiences and shared understandings of vinyl culture (Havlena and Holak 1996). Record stores were often at the heart of these recollections and were mentioned in most interviews, with many participants indicating that they were the only places they could find and purchase music. However, even before entering such stores, the rituals began: You just had to sit there and listen and wait for it to come on the radio […] Do you remember the Chart Show? Used to be on a Saturday morning and they'd get the indie chart or something and you'd get mid-day on a Saturday, you'd get the tiniest little clip of a Pavement song and then you'd go into town and you'd go to the shop and you'd just go "Have you got that new Pavement record that I've just heard about ten seconds of on the Chart Show?" (Darren) In Darren's case, the process of finding and purchasing music was triggered by the Chart Show, a TV program aired in the UK between 1986 and 1998. In addition to counting down the top ten songs of the week, the show had an indie music segment. Throughout the interview, Darren compared previewing music on online platforms, such as YouTube, with having to patiently wait for songs to be played through mass media, regarding the latter as more authentic. In the excerpt, Darren's nostalgia for the record store also encompasses the broader context in which he purchased records, that is, the trigger for visiting the store in the first place. This extends the existing research into rituals associated with record stores focusing on the in-store experience (Bartmanski and Woodward 2015;Hendricks 2016;Goulding and Derbaix 2019) by emphasizing the steps that lead to the motive to seek out a record. With regard to hunting for specific music, the search was a recurring idea mentioned throughout the interviews. Caroline, for example, recounted a story of finding a single by the British band "The Jesus and Mary Chain" she had been looking for: Well this didn't actually mean anything to me at the time that this got put out because I was only a child, but I learnt about it afterwards, and then I was hunting for it, and I knew what it looked like. So when I found it in a record fair I was like, [looks shocked], "I know that one, and I think there's meant to be a postcard inside that one or something and there's not" […] I was really pleased with myself when I found it. I was looking for it and when I found it, I was like, you have that bit where you go cold … Caroline's response underlines the pleasure derived from successfully finding a record after a long search. The physicality of the medium is significant as the cover artwork guided Caroline in her hunt while the content of the sleeve helped her confirm that the record was the one she had been looking for. While not directly comparing the accessibility of digital music to the dedication required to find the album in this excerpt, Caroline referenced recent changes in music listening habits and buying behaviors throughout her interview. For example, she explained that before the rise of the internet, people "needed to put in more effort in those days," further emphasizing her sentimentality for all facets of the effort associated with vinyl records. Similarly, Ian compared his past search in record stores with today's online platforms that allow music fans to instantly search for their favorite songs or albums: For me, part of the whole experience of being a music fan, involved, you go through, you flick through the stacks at the store, searching for, say you have a band that you're obsessed with, say you've got all the tracks, the B sides and all this sort of obscure stuff, back then, the excitement if you actually found something, you know, that you'd been looking for, some old single or something, was incredible. But now you can just go "Right, I'll just go on YouTube or Spotify", and it's just kind of there.
For Ian, the exhilarating search he associated with the past contrasts with the immediacy and accessibility of streaming platforms (Sinclair and Tinson 2017). Ian shared his dissatisfaction with the ubiquity of online platforms and the privileging of "individual tracks" instead of albums that should be listened to "from start to finish." In the above excerpts, participants appear to share a collective nostalgia for the quest of seeking out specific records associated with vinyl (Bartmanski and Woodward 2015; Goulding and Derbaix 2019). Participants emphasized that the difficulty of such quests arose from the constraints imposed by the distribution of physical music. When re-contextualized in an era of music streaming, the same rituals are deemed inauthentic, since visiting records stores today would be considered buying into "retromania" rather than the only way to acquire music (Reynolds 2011).
Beyond yearning for the context associated with purchasing physical music formats, three participants were nostalgic specifically for the build-up to a record release day, a momentous and longawaited event for music fans that had been waiting for months to not only purchase but also hear vinyl records for the first time. Jen, who was working at a record store at the time, recalled her excitement when an album finally came out: … something that I miss about the follies of youth is, when a new album would come out and you could not wait to get it, and this was before, streaming … I remember when Guns N' Roses "Use Your Illusion" came out, and people camped outside of record stores to be the first to buy them.
The "follies of youth," as Jen puts it, are bound to the fond remembrances of consuming music prestreaming with regard to both waiting for and anticipating the purchase. This supports Nowak's (2016) point that changes in participants' experiences of music are intertwined with their own life narratives. Music streaming platforms were frequently compared to the record release days of the past. For example, Andy stressed the fact that songs are now previewed online months before they are officially released, diluting the impact of the release day, stating, "I'm old enough [laughing] to remember it was a big thing, record release day, because, often you hadn't heard the records or you'd heard them once on the radio." Andy further contrasted past and present music release practices, explaining that today "the event is lost." Andy's experience highlights the loss of excitement he used to feel before a releasea "big" eventwhich now happens over a longer period and several online previews.
Additionally, Mark suggested that the anticipation for new records was also built up by the music press and described the change in the way he used to look forward to release days: The other thing I don't do now is religiously read music press, because that's the other thing when I was younger, I'd sort of read Smash Hits when I was in my teens and moved on to the NME, and knew what was coming out when, and would be all set to buy it on the day it came out, but, these days, it's only when I happen to go into a record shop and flick through the racks that I'll go "Oh, it's a new LP", that I'd kind of realize that something's appeared.
Mark compared "religiously" keeping up to date with the latest music updates via the music press, such as the British magazines Smash Hits and then later NME, to contemporary music consumption habits. Further supporting this, eight participants commented on the meaningfulness of music when they were younger. For instance, Vinnie implied that experiences of music in the analogue era were significantly more profound than they are today, when teenagers can acquire music for free. Notably, Vinnie suggested that not having to wait for music to be released and to invest in it are the reasons she believes people nowadays respond less emotionally to music: Can you imagine someone who is 18, who's waited for an artist to release something, and having that same emotional response to something which has just been electronically […]? But I find that really hard to imagine that they have that same reaction, because they can just steal it can't they, they can nick it, whereas you couldn't go into a record store and take something without paying for it.
These excerpts suggest that anticipating record release day was integral to the consumption of vinyl records. Participants' nostalgic recollections for the build-up to the record release were intertwined with their personal memories of youth and what they believed was characteristic of that period, namely the intensity of emotions felt at that age, which is in line with existing accounts of youth and childhood in consumption (Moran 2002;Holbrook and Schindler 2003). Importantly, these findings suggest that the relationships between participants and vinyl records formed long before the first time the record was placed on the turntable. Indeed, for most participants, the commitment to records emerged with the rituals associated with the lead-up to a specific release, which encompassed wider social and cultural aspects of vinyl culture.
"Taking a chance on a record": purchase rituals Following the search and anticipation for specific vinyl releases, participants also mourned the rituals associated with purchasing records. Eight participants recalled their very first record purchase. Sam remembered his mother accompanying him to buy "a seven-inch of 'Shakin' Stevens" from the UK high-street retailer Woolworths when he was six or seven years old: "I remember it very vividly, and erm that, because I was quite proud that I'd got a record. I took it home like 'yeah look at it, I've got a record'." During his interview, Sam bemoaned the fact that he rarely experiences "first times"' in his adulthood anymore, whereas this was common in his youth. Similarly, Miguel described his first record purchase of going to the record store when he was nine, accompanied by his brother. He recalled that his mother had reminded him that the "guy in the record shop was really shocked" that he bought a U2 album, which was considered "old music" at that time. Sam and Miguel both described their first music purchase as a very distinct milestone in their journey as music fans and both commented on the artwork as the most striking feature. This supports existing research acknowledging the significance of album artwork to vinyl consumers (Hayes 2006;Bartmanski and Woodward 2015). Notably, personal recollections associated with family members are intertwined with consumers' first vinyl purchase.
While most participants referred to local record stores, two participants did not have access to a local store selling their preferred music and spoke of the alternative methods of acquiring records. Matloob described contacting people via email or through obscure websites that sold records online. He likened the slow pace and personal interactions with others to "the days of proper indie" and was unhappy that many of these distribution websites had since closed, seemingly because consumers are listening to music via the website Bandcamp. Pete G also explained how he came to be a fan of indie pop music despite not living in proximity to the scene or having access to music in a local record store: I grew up in Grimsby, on the coast, and it was just a million miles away from where any of this stuff was happening so, it was great, discovering Sarah Records and being able to mail order the stuff and get handwritten notes and all the newsletters and stuff from the label. So although I could never get to any of these gigs in London or Oxford or Bristol, it kind of felt like, you just, a little bit like you started to belong to something for the first time.
In his interview, Pete G referred to his discovery of Sarah Records, the "classic" UK-based independent record label (Dale 2010, 191) active between 1987 and 1995, which was also mentioned by eight other participants. This example broadens the scope of research into vinyl consumption by illuminating alternative methods through which fans acquired music beyond the record store. The personal touches, e.g. handwritten notes and newsletters, suggest that acquiring music was a special experience and capture the seemingly authentic, lo-fi production and distribution methods that were celebrated within the indie pop music scene in opposition to the mass production and distribution of digital music (Fonarow 2006, 74). Pete G also explicitly described the novel feeling of belonging he experienced through his subscription to the music. His recollection of his first record purchase sheds light on the deeper level of nostalgic yearning that some participants experienced, that is, the sense of being part of something for the first time (Wilson 2014, 86).
Eight respondents also reminisced about buying a record based on the appearance of the album artwork. The phrase "taking a chance" was mentioned verbatim in five of the interviews. In total, 11 participants shared their personal memories of specific records they had bought without knowing their contents. As Caroline explained, "I've always been one for just going into a record shop and if you don't know it but you like the look of it, then I've thought, 'Well I'll risk it'." In this case, the risk of buying a record based on the strength of the sleeve was significant to her as she reflected on the fact that it has "always" been part of her music purchasing habits. Likewise, Sam compared his past purchasing habits to those of digital music listeners: [Young people are] not going into a record shop and take a chance on a record by the way it looks any more. They might listen to a song by a band on Bandcamp that they've never heard of before, but there's no layer between the listener and the music anymore, whereas that was what cover art was.
Sam mourned the diminished role of album artwork as the first interaction between the listener and the music, which he saw as a superior characteristic of the experience of vinyl records. He later explained that he had bought records based on the strength of the album artwork several times but clarified that "some of them ended up being good bands and some of them ended up being awful." Still, his comments overall suggest that he did not particularly regret buying a bad record solely based on the artwork, but rather saw this as part and parcel of his consumption of vinyl records.
Similarly, Trev recalled the details of the second album by the British band Pulp, which he took a chance on based on its review and appearance. While discussing the loss of spontaneity, Trev was torn between the advantages of the possibility of previewing songs online and the lack of commitment to a record based solely on the strength of its artwork, mentioning that "people don't explore as much." Although taking a chance on a record may appear to contradict the anticipation that participants felt was necessary to appreciate music meaningfully back then, it unveils an underexplored aspect of vinyl consumption that is mourned in the age of streaming, namely the spontaneity of purchasing a record based on its sleeve. These findings suggest that consuming vinyl not only offers consumers agency in the process of listening (Hayes 2006;Nokelainen and Dedehayir 2015) but also in the active choice to circumvent the pre-purchase rituals if they wanted to and "take a chance." Whether consumers' spontaneity would pay off or not is discussed in the following section.
"I'm gonna have to like this record": post-purchase commitment Participants also emphasized their commitment to a record over time. After visiting the store, Mark described engaging with a record on the journey back home: The thing I miss is, sitting on the bus on the way home looking at the record, cause, that was a huge part of it as well, just sort of reading all of the sleeve notes while you were travelling home from town because you'd gone and bought this LP you'd been saving up for weeks, and I suppose a few things have stopped that. One is that I've got a car, and the other is online shopping … I mean, we only live a 5 minute walk away from … so it's not even time to look at the sleeve […] You'd have to try really hard to like it because you'd wanted to buy it for so long.
Similarly, Pete B spoke of unveiling his purchase at home: When I used to buy records, it was fun because you were going home and there was that anticipation. And you'd put it on and you'd be engrossed in the sleeve […]. With the vinyl over so many years, it demands your absolute attention.
For Pete B, the process of getting to know the record intimately commenced as soon as he got home from the store, while for Mark, this happened even sooner on the bus. Both mentioned the effort required to appreciate the record once purchased. For Mark, it was tied to pre-purchase anticipation while Pete B recalled the irresistible pull of the record sleeve. In this sense, for Mark, the practices associated with the purchase of records back then take on new meanings in the age of streaming.
In addition to the anticipation of playing a record for the first time, participants discussed the effort that grounded their long-term commitment to particular records. For example, Mark recalled his appreciation of a more accessible single by the British band Echo & the Bunnymen in his childhood, only to discover that the remaining tracks on the LP were highly inaccessible: I bought [the record] when I was a kid that was utterly brilliant, but I didn't get it the first time, and it took me a lot of listening to actually understand what was great about it … bands who'd hook you in with a great single and then do a really dark, impenetrable LP […] Once you get enough bits that you recognize and can hang on to, the rest just … And suddenly you look at the whole thing … I don't think you put that effort in if you just stream something.
Mark went on to explain the effort it tookrepeatedly listening to the entire recorduntil he became "hooked." This captures both the time and the commitment required to appreciate the music fully, which Mark compared to streaming, explaining that the immediacy of the Internet has replaced the charm of the uncertainty about the content of a record. As such, Mark implied that appreciating vinyl records requires more effort since vinyl consumers cannot easily skip songs, and that this aspect of the experience and learning to like music has been lost in the age of music streaming. In this sense, these findings suggest that the relationships between participants and vinyl records gradually developed over the years after the record was purchased. Specifically, participants' commitment was grounded in the effort required to appreciate the music, which was reinforced by the physicality of the mediumin this case, the artworkwhich is now fondly remembered.
Other participants mentioned that commitment was a key part of the experience of being a vinyl consumer: It's a case of "Well now I've bought it, I'm gonna have to like this record, so I'm gonna have to play it, and if I don't like it the first time, I'm gonna have to keep trying till I do." And I think that's quite a good kind of education for like listening to music is that some music is challenging. (Andy) When you bought a record, you were kind of stuck with it […] But some records, you might not like them right away, but for me, there was always a little voice saying "There's something there. There's something there that you'll connect with and come back", and I had a load of records like that. And I'm not quite sure if I do like it or if I don't like it, but I know I'll come back to it. And that's why I say the record will sort of reveal itself, over time if you give it the time. (Pete B) In a similar manner to Mark, who also repeatedly listened to whole albums to appreciate each track, Andy highlighted the significance of the financial investment required. To him, buying music was a financial commitment and he felt he had to put effort into liking what he had bought for fear of it otherwise being a waste of money. For Pete B, listening to records and learning to appreciate the music involved both time and patience. His analogy of being "stuck" with a record further highlights the contrast between the commitment to the music versus the more widespread throwaway music consumption habits associated with streaming (Datta, Knox, and Bronnenberg 2018).
These observations extend the definition of effort that Jansen (2009) and Bolin (2016) posit as characteristic of the consumption of analogue music formats. The longing felt by Andy and Pete B, mentioned by seven participants in total, goes beyond the nostalgia felt for simply handling the physical music artifact and producing analogue music. In these cases, it is faithfulness to the media that is underscored, as if records also possessed the authentic human qualities heralded by the indie pop scene (Fonarow 2006, 49;Chivers Yochim and Biddinger 2008). Accordingly, this article argues that in the context of music media, technostalgia (Fickers 2009) and analogue nostalgia (Marks 2002) also encompass the effort required to commit to and appreciate the depth of some music available on vinyl.

Discussion
While the appeal of vinyl records in the digital age has been partly explained by the physical dimensions of the medium (Hayes 2006;Chivers Yochim and Biddinger 2008;Bartmanski and Woodward 2015;Katz 2015;Lepa and Tritakis 2016;Fernandez and Beverland 2019), the wider consumption and purchase rituals associated with vinyl appear to have been largely underexplored. Unveiling consumers' nostalgia for lost practices associated with the purchase of and commitment to vinyl records, this research contributes to the "multi-layered" story of vinyl (Bartmanski and Woodward 2018) by painting a more nuanced picture of why practices associated with the medium are deemed superior to those associated with streaming. Focusing on consumers who have remained committed to the format from the analogue to the streaming era reveals that the appeal of vinyl revolves around past consumption rituals that traverse time and space and are bound to genuine constraints in its production, distribution, and purchase. These consumption practices are therefore re-contextualized and take on new meanings in the increasingly immaterial age of music consumption (Sinclair and Tinson 2017;Datta, Knox, and Bronnenberg 2018).
The first contribution of this article concerns the dynamic nature of materiality in consumption, providing new insights into consumption practices associated with a physical legacy technology. This research suggests that the spatio-temporal dimensions associated with participants' consumption of vinyl contribute to the appeal of the format. The findings demonstrate that participants' vinyl practices traversed multiple spaces beyond the record store (Hendricks 2016; Goulding and Derbaix 2019; Hracs and Jansson 2020) or in front of the turntable (Hayes 2006;Nokelainen and Dedehayir 2015;Bartmanski and Woodward 2015;Fernandez and Beverland 2019). Accordingly, it is argued that viewing physical music as static overlooks the rich consumption practices associated with physical legacy technology in the age of streaming.
Further, this article offers empirical insights into the role of temporality in shaping the relationships between consumers and material objects. The findings reveal that participants' vinyl consumption rituals constituted repeated meaningful interactions with records spanning multiple years and centered around each purchase. These rituals unfolded over time rather than being static occurrences; for these consumers, purchasing a record entailed a strong sense of anticipation and commitment over many years to fully appreciate the product. In this sense, this article positions the consumption of legacy technology as dynamic and evolving, furthering existing accounts that have primarily focused on static sites of consumption to explain the appeal of a legacy technological object (Magaudda 2011;Fernandez and Beverland 2019). Moreover, by "taking a chance on a record" based on the appeal of the album artwork, consumers could reorganize the practices associated with the constraints of consuming vinyl by trading the anticipation in the lead-up to purchasing a record for a more sustained commitment once it was brought home. This article therefore extends the existing accounts on the agentic dimensions of vinyl (Hayes 2006;Nokelainen and Dedehayir 2015) and how practices inherent to purchasing records can be shaped by consumers.
The second contribution of this research concerns the role of discontinuities in reinforcing the relationships between consumers and the material world. The rituals presented in this research were recollected by participants through a nostalgic lens, in the context of personal (changing life stages and narratives) and cultural (from tangible analogue to cloud-based music consumption practices) discontinuities. It is argued that these discontinuities illuminate the appeal of past consumption practices presented in this article and ultimately unveil the deeper connections between consumers and material objects. While vinyl records can still be purchased today and appeal to new consumers who never grew up with the format (Hayes 2006;Fernandez and Beverland 2019), the vinyl consumption practices foregrounded here have been irremediably lost for these participants for reasons that are bound to the discontinuities they have experienced. These consumers no longer see themselves as having time to meaningfully dedicate to purchasing and committing to records as they associated their "period of intense affective consumption" (Holbrook and Schindler 2003) with their youth. Further, the appeal of the effort-laden consumption practices associated with vinyl records is no longer an authentic constraint in an age where music can be consumed with much greater ease. As such, this research sheds light on personal and cultural discontinuities as fertile ground to study the dynamics of the relationships between consumers and the material world.
This research also foregrounds the role of consumption practices associated with the material world in grounding consumers' life narratives. Participants equated the effort and commitment grounded in these practices to the meaningfulness of their youth. Rather than the physical format itself (Shankar, Elliott, and Fitchett 2009), it is the change in consumption rituals associated with vinyl records that materializes the passage of time for these consumers. Accordingly, this study generates further insights into how temporality originating from the consumption of a physical object does not stem from the physical medium itself but from the consumption practices associated with it (Jalas 2009).
The significance of participants' involvement in the indie pop music scene highlights further cultural implications. Findings suggest that the effort, commitment, and agency associated with the consumption of vinyl underpin the authentic consumption practices that culturally bind members of this vinyl scene in line with the self-production and DIY practices distinctive of indie pop (Hesmondhalgh 1999;Fonarow 2006;Dale 2018). Furthermore, while nostalgia has been said to be pervasive in indie pop (Reynolds 2007, 15), this article argues that competing types of nostalgiatemporal and atemporal (Higson 2014)contribute to the tension at the heart of this countercultural scene. In other words, when participants actively resist the retromania (Reynolds 2011) embraced by new vinyl consumers and re-contextualize past vinyl consumption practices in the age of music streaming, they create new meanings that contribute to re-energizing the indie pop scene, which has long passed its heyday. Building on Fonarow (2006), this article positions vinyl in the indie pop scene as an iconic symbol of resistance to the immateriality of music in the streaming age.

Conclusion
This article uncovers in-depth insights into practices associated with vinyl records that traverse time and space and that are re-contextualized in the increasingly immaterial age of music consumption. The trajectory of past consumption rituals demonstrates the significance of the practices that arose from the constraints in production and distribution of vinyl "back then." Exploring long-term relationships between consumers and vinyl records highlights the changing relationships between consumers and the material world, thereby contributing new insights into how materiality grounds consumer temporality. It also sheds light on the role of personal and collective nostalgia in reshaping and strengthening the relationships between subjects and objects in the context of discontinuities. In doing so, vinyl is positioned at the center of the practices of an independent music scene -UK indie popand as a collective and cultural symbol of resistance to the mainstream.
Since borrowing ideas from the past and looking back fondly on one's youth are embedded in indie pop, research into other music scenes that have remained committed to vinyl records, such as hip hop, would provide an insightful comparison. Moreover, since album artwork was found to be a gateway to nostalgic recollections, future research could focus on the visual aesthetics of the artwork to understand the meanings conveyed in relation to the past to extend the existing research on album artwork and cultural memories (Borgerson and Schroeder 2002;O'Reilly et al. 2017). In the increasingly fast-paced digital age (Husemann and Eckhardt 2019; Ritzer and Miles 2019), elucidating the temporal dimensions of materiality could also inform research on the slow production and consumption of material legacy products to further understand consumers' desire to revisit a seemingly more authentic past.