The debate never ends. Vinyl sales keep rising. Streaming numbers are astronomical. Forums are still full of all-caps arguments about “warmth,” “air,” and “black backgrounds.”
After three decades of spinning records, ripping CDs, hoarding FLACs, and even cutting my own lacquers, I’ve stopped looking for the single correct answer.
There is only your answer.
Let’s go deeper—without the dogma.
A vinyl groove is a physical sculpture of the sound wave. The cutting head on a lathe wiggles tens of thousands of times per second, carving an unbroken analog of the electrical signal from the mixing desk.
When your stylus traces that groove, every microscopic bump becomes voltage again—continuous, infinite resolution in theory.
Tape is even more direct: iron oxide particles get magnetized in exact proportion to the air hitting the microphone diaphragm. No steps, no approximation—just an unbroken chain from performance to playback.
That continuity is why many people say analog “breathes.”
Digital chops the wave into 44,100 (or 96,000, or 192,000) vertical slices per second and rounds each slice to the nearest step on a 16-bit or 24-bit ladder.
Yes, it’s an approximation. But the slices are so thin and the steps so numerous that the reconstructed wave is mathematically indistinguishable from the original to human ears.
Nyquist-Shannon theorem: sample at more than twice the highest frequency you can hear and you can perfectly rebuild the wave. We hear up to ~20 kHz. CD quality samples at 44.1 kHz. Math wins.
The vast majority of new vinyl pressed today—even the fancy audiophile reissues—is cut from high-resolution digital files.
Dark Side of the Moon “45 rpm Ultra Analog” edition you just unboxed? Chances are it started life as a 24/192 or DSD transfer. The all-analog chain largely ended in the mid-1980s for catalog titles.
So the romance is real, but the source usually isn’t pure analog anymore.
Yet every single one swore they heard night-and-day differences when they knew which was playing.
Expectation bias is the most powerful tone control ever invented.
There are still a few genuine cases:
Zero compromise, zero religion.
Next time a favorite song plays, ask yourself one thing:
“Do I feel it in my chest?”
If yes—you’ve already found the format that captures the essence for you.
Sometimes that’s the soft crackle before The Velvet Underground’s “Sunday Morning” on an original mono pressing. Sometimes it’s Radiohead’s “Nude” in Dolby Atmos while walking the dog under streetlights.
Both stop time. Both are perfect.
Music isn’t a waveform. It isn’t bits or grooves.
Music is the moment the sound hits your brain and suddenly you’re seventeen again in your best friend’s basement.
The medium is just the messenger.
So spin the record if that’s your ritual. Or beam lossless from the cloud if that’s your freedom.
But never let anyone tell you your messenger is wrong.
Now go play something loud—exactly the way you love it.