If you are old enough think back to a time before Napster, before music taxonomy became a full-time job for hashtaggers and your record store had only four categories to guide your music discovery: rock / pop, hip hop / R&B, classical, and country. You were dialing into local BBS’s at 28.8k tops and WAVs and MODs and MIDs were the only music your Packard Bell understood, so album release dates really really meant something: maybe, like me, you had your dad drive you to Best Buy at midnight on December 6, 1994 to pick up Pearl Jam’s Vitalogy CD, which was packaged to mimic the feeling of a vinyl sleeve, and came out two weeks after the vinyl release, which is the reason you saved up for months and bought and still own a turntable. It’s not that you long for these retail days of yore — that would make you categorically old — but you grew up in them amongst Claire Danes posters and Tabitha Soren news updates and Walkmen and Discmen and maybe Minidiscmen. You would load your boombox with a cassette and wait with your finger on the record and play buttons all night long to hear that one song because that was the only way you were going to hear it again of your own volition. Maybe you mowed lawns all summer a few years later to save up for a hideous HP external SCSI 2x CD burner and could fill a trash bag with the unreadable discs (a dollar each!!!) that the Nero burning software would produce nine times out of ten, and maybe you wore out that tenth disc in your Discman because it made you feel invincible to be able to make compact discs, and you definitely remember the first time a spoiled homeboy showed up to school with a 32MB portable MP3 player because now you were not only invincible but essentially omnipotent.