• Broken Records
  A few days ago I received a postcard, a photograph on which Hermine stacks record in a dishwashing machine. This seemingly absurd act, which must horrify every music lover, reminded me of my first contact with these wonderful objects. I was about thirteen years old when I - not owning a record-player - started to collect the fragile shellack discs which were still in use in 1955. I got these from a friend whose father ran a cinema, they usually had no protective cover and were scratched and dusty. So I washed the records in warm soapy water and vigeorously rubbed them dry. For a long time this was the only way to express my affection for the music hidden in those mysterious grooves, and I washed them over and over again.
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