Photograph by Sarah McCosham
This week was spring break and Tony McCosham had seen me having so much fun on my adventures with the kids that he decided he wanted in. He planned an elaborate but brilliant road trip to Cleveland and Niagara Falls for the end of the week. Not only did this sound like a good time, but this trip gave me an entire three days all to myself.
All to myself. It was the greatest gift of all; major props and points to Tony McCosham.
I would rest, I would write, I would eat ice cream for dinner and answer to no one. I would also hunt down an original Rumors album.
I have recently gotten into vinyl after not understanding what the big deal was. In college I heard hipsters touting the superiority of vinyl, casually dropping they’d “listened to Paul Simon on vinyl” during a study session.
I married someone who had a big vinyl collection, but he also had big collections of VHS tapes and CDs and even cassette tapes; Tony McCosham was a collector of all things. So we had a record player and crate of miscellaneous albums that was largely collecting dust. However, this changed when, on a recent record store trip he’d found Tusk and, knowing my Fleetwood Mac adoration, bought it for me.
I was elated—it was Tusk and “Sara” is my favorite song—and put it on later that night. And as I listened to the record, scratchy with wear, and got it. I just did.
Vinyl was superior, obviously.
This was confirmed when I texted my friend Mike, one of the smartest, best people I know and also, my oldest friend (we met in marching band when I was 14). Mike is a scientist; he works in a lab and has the most encyclopedic, brilliant mind. He explained the science of sound and how the recording process works, concluding that vinyl generally is mastered to a dynamic range of ~70dB, so while it isn’t as loud, it isn’t forced louder, so the original audio depth is preserved better. Translation? A wholler, rounder listening experience.
This was wholly evident when comparing Tusk on vinyl to Tusk on iTunes. Even my kids heard the difference (or at least they said they did as a favor to me).
I needed to push this further. Rumors is arguably the best album of all time and I’d never heard it as it was intended, designed: on vinyl.
Enter: my Cincinnati record store shuffle.
Here I was, enjoying a delicious weekend all to myself and I decided I needed to track down Rumors. This was a need, not a want.
Photograph by Sarah McCosham
I visited six record stores over the course of two days, starting with two Cincinnati classics: Everybody’s Records in Pleasant Ridge and Shake It in Northside. Everybody’s has an amazingly robust selection of records in a small space that doesn’t feel claustrophobic or inaccessible. As a 27-year-old living in Pleasant Ridge I felt comfortable wandering into Everybody’s on an afternoon walk with a sleeping infant strapped to my chest; as a 40-year-old vinyl convert, I felt equally comfortable and welcomed.
Rumors wasn’t at Everybody’s, however. Nor was it at Shake It. “We can never keep that one in stock,” the guy at Shake It said.
From Northside I went up to Hamilton: Unsung Records had long been on my radar and the vibes here were everything. Unsung Records is equal parts record store and oddities shop; there is a massive selection of vintage and screen-printed shirts along with a bevy of Bigfoot and pop culture memorabilia. The records are largely contained in one room in the back; albums are neatly organized in crates but alas, there was not one Fleetwood Mac in the entire store. (I did find a first edition Let It Be that I was tempted to snag—ditto for Ziggy Stardust—but one thing I’ve learned in my vinyl collecting career thus far is that this is an expensive hobby that’s best approached with a set list (hah!) because $50 titles add up quickly.)
From Hamilton, Three Feather Records was a five-mile drive up Dixie Highway (and also on my way home), so I decided to make it my final stop for the day. Why not?
Located in an unassuming strip mall off Route 4, Three Feather Records is a relic from the ’80s; the windows are adorned with multi-colored LPs and the signage is equally retro. Inside, I was greeted by two very kind hipster types and when I asked about Rumors, they looked at each other, laughing. “You’re the second person who’s asked about that album this afternoon…we don’t have any in stock.”
I could have stopped here, of course I could have, but I was determined. The next day, I decided to head to Milford and Loveland to see if I could find luck at Spiral Groove and/or Plaid Room Records, respectively.
Now, I love Spiral Groove—it’s in my hometown and not only is there a massive selection of new and used vinyl, but there are also record players for every budget and aesthetic; I hope to upgrade our basic record player for Christmas this year. I have been looking for Rumors from Spiral Groove for months now, coming up empty every time. “We can’t keep it on the shelves,” they always say. This day was no different.
Photograph by Sarah McCosham
Undiscouraged (OK, maybe a little discouraged), I pressed on: Plaid Room Records in Loveland beckoned. I had never been there before; having grown up in Milford, I am very loyal. However, Plaid Room Records is such a gem: full of inventory, super organized, bustling with a diverse cross section of record lovers (Plaid Room has an in-house record label, too!)… I won’t even hold it against them that they had no original Fleetwood Mac (there were two copies of Rumors from 2025 and 2011, but just not what I was looking for, not at all).
At this point I decided, with resignation that did not feel like defeat, to head home.
I was taking the long way home, from Loveland to Madeira to Kenwood to Montgomery, when I passed Half Price Books. Inspiration struck and I turned around and went in; my expectations were low but also, I am an optimist, so a kernel of hope was there.
And? Would you believe it?
They didn’t have it.
But as I turned to leave, the “Used CDs” sign caught my eye and a twinge of nostalgia tugged at my heart; I remember going to Eastgate Mall to purchase Millenium by the Backstreet Boys with my friend Megan the day it came out. Her mom drove us, of course (her mom was the best).
Feeling nostalgic, I perused the selection in reverse alphabetical order, feeling a twinge of suspense as I neared the top of the alphabet. There was an entire subsection for Fleetwood Mac.
I’d rifled through a half-dozen CDs when I landed on Rumors.
Photograph by Sarah McCosham
I thought about the Backstreet Boys and Megan. I thought about the 2009 Prius I was driving that day. The Prius doesn’t have Bluetooth or a USB hook-up for streaming music, but it does have a CD player and center console full of CDs, most Half Price Books purchases. I thought about my vinyl discussion with Mike where he gave me an evolutionary overview of musical media in the most thoughtfully and thoroughly scientific way.
I smiled.
I walked up to the checkout counter. “Is this all?” she asked.
“Just this.”
I drove home the long way (obviously), listening to the CD from start to finish, something I had never experienced. It was the most nostalgic, pleasant, perfect way to spend a Friday afternoon in Cincinnati in spring.
I am still on the lookout for a 1977 edition of Rumors, of course I am; this is all part of the fun of being a vinyl person.
Facebook Comments