Yes, I admit it. I am a gentleman of artistic tastes of a certain age. And, it seems, of a fairly specific demographic.
I have been reflecting on this while spending far too much time today on iTunes, becoming the proud owner (insofar, in this digital age, that one ever actually owns anything) of - and I suspect this won't exactly comes as a surprise - both the new Barbra and the new Madonna. It's only flaunting my age to note that I don't as yet, plan to get the new Whitney, Mariah, or Britney.
How are we ever going to explain, to a wondering future, the thrill of rushing to a record store to get the latest and greatest? I once spent the better part of a day - and a school day, to boot - waiting at Plastic Fantastic outside Philadelphia to bag a brand new Lene Lovich album. Now you just press a few buttons and it all comes rushing down the 'Tubes, in the Deluxe version.
Fun to have, but, in the words of a song that might as well be on Streisand's new collection of standards, The Thrill is Gone.