Over the weekend, my piece on the surging popularity of vinyl records among millennials (those born between 1981 and 1996) ran in The Wall Street Journal's Review section (go here). Amazingly, new LPs last year surpassed the CD and digital download in units sold. What I also found during my reporting is that millennials, who were especially hard hit emotionally during the pandemic, found serenity in vinyl albums. As I wrote in my piece: "Stressed out by fears of climate change, political strife and pandemic variants, a growing number of younger adults have been spending more time nesting and seeking refuge in their past. Many have fond childhood memories of parents playing vinyl albums in the 1980s and early 1990s, and they yearn to regain that feeling of security." [Photo above of Jenn D'Eugenio courtesy of Jenn D'Eugenio]
What I also uncovered during my interviews is that female millennials are playing a major role in vinyl's resurgence. Which was mind-blowing. During the peak of my own vinyl days in the 1970s, LPs and stereo systems were the turf of guys, who could set up and break down stereos in a snap and knew all the major manufacturers of speakers, amps, turntables, tone arms and cartridge. To be sure, plenty of women listened to LPs back then, too, but on average they weren't nearly as nerdy or obsessed about their playback gear. They just wanted something—anything—to play their records on, in apartments and dorm rooms. Brands and power really didn't matter. Guys, in contrast, veered toward volume power and speaker size. While reporting my article, I was surprised to learn how this has shifted today and by the large number of female millennials today are vinyl fanatics who have a strong presence on social media. [Photo above courtesy of Jenn D'Eugenio]
One of the women I interviewed was Jenn D'Eugenio, 38, sales and customer experience manager at Furnace Record Pressing in Alexandria, Va. She also is founder and curator of Women in Vinyl, a nonprofit group that empowers and informs girls and women about career opportunities in the vinyl record business.
Here's what she told me:
Marc Myers: When and how did you fall in love with vinyl?
Jenn D'Eugenio: I've collected records for over 20 years. My parents had records when I was growing up. I found them fascinating—the cover art and records' tactile nature. In college, I studied design, and friends and I spent a lot of time at used-record stores. There was so much history and knowledge there. Music and records were always important to me, but for years I didn’t think I could pursue my passion because I wasn't a musician. [Photo above courtesy of Jenn D'Eugenio]
MM: When did you start Women in Vinyl?
JD'E: In 2018, when I started to notice women doing so many awesome things in this industry but not getting the same recognition as their male counterparts. At the same time, musicians and people I knew turned to me with questions about how vinyl records were made. I wanted to start an organization that made girls and women who loved vinyl that there was a place for them in the vinyl industry. Last year, Women in Vinyl reached nonprofit status. We have a board now and we offer scholarships. Anyone can make donations (here) to support what we do. We also have the Women in Vinyl Podcast, with a new discussion every two weeks. [Photo above of Jenn D'Eugenio]
MM: What’s so emotionally exciting about vinyl for you?
JD'E: Digital downloads are impersonal. A record is far more personal and warm. You can touch the manufacturing process, set it on a turntable platter and put the needle on and listen to the music embedded in the groves. It's fascinating when you think about it. The vinyl album is sensory and also strangely calming. I had always suffered from health anxieties, from the time I was a child. I feared coming down with a disease and dying. So the pandemic was a nightmare for me. Records helped me deal. I'm still not over the fear and still wear a mask to be cautious. Being home and connecting with my record collection was a distraction. Normally, I'd be out at stores searching for my next purchases. Spending more time at home rather than being out traveling and going to shows was a drag, but during this time I was able to revisit a lot of records in my collection. That kept me busy during my down time.
MM: The pandemic must have been particularly rough on you given your job.
JD'E: I worked from home for a period, but records can’t be pressed in your home office. Even after I returned to work, I loved coming home to my records. I started focusing on consuming and appreciating. My husband is a record collector, too. We bought our house because it had space for our collection. We have 4,000 albums between us. He likes experimental jazz and hip-hip. I like rock, mostly metal.
MM: Did vinyl records also keep your spirits up during the pandemic?
JD'E: Yes, they kept me thinking positive. I turned off the news. Even though a lot of what I commonly listen to isn’t necessarily upbeat, the vinyl format gave me a lift. I began listening to my records in alphabetical order and made it through to the letter M. Black Sabbath makes up a good chunk of my collection. I have 50 copies of Maser of Reality (1971), the band's third studio album. I really got into how each of the pressings were made.
MM: Do other millennials you know feel the same way you do about vinyl's restorative powers?
JD'E: Definitely. That’s part of the uptick. Millennials are into it. Records are a personal experience. You see and feel it. Used albums, in particular, take you back in time.
MM: Why have so many women gravitated to vinyl?
JD'E: Social media has given women the ability to connect with others who have similar interests. Vinyl united those of us who love the format, especially while stuck at home. A lot of women have a hard time sharing music on social media platforms like Instagram. When they put themselves out there, it is a common response of resentment for getting more likes, followers and attention, or a presumption that we don't know the record we're sharing or that it belongs to a significant other's collection. Sometimes this leads to trolling. It's not only in some cases creepy and scary but it drives women to stay off social media or from sharing their collections. Women in Vinyl, works to empower women and lets them know there's a universe of women out there in the business that they can bond with and find role models in. I also never understood why records and gear was supposed to be just a guy thing. Women have the same level of passion for recorded music. It just wasn't acceptable as a female thing for a long time, until women found their online voice and figured out how to express how vinyl makes them feel.
MM: Is vinyl something you think will stay with women after the pandemic passes? Or will the desire disappear as women age and other things become a priority?
JD'E: It’s here to stay. Once you get the vinyl bug you can’t get rid of it. It's not a male or female thing or even an age thing. It's a human thing. Once you consume and absorb music that way, you become accustomed to the warmer sound, the additional detail you hear and being part of the playing process. It's cool. Let's face it, if you want to own music, you can’t own streaming. It's like the wind. For soulful listening, vinyl is the best format. Once you place a turntable's needle on a vinyl record, you're hooked. Millennials will always want a soulful listening experience for artists they care about. And if some women—or men—outgrow vinyl over time, so what. You can always store the records away and give them to your kids when they grow up.
