A rather depressed last night wrapped up in "The Fairest of the Seasons" inspired me to wake very early today and spend the entire morning listening to the first three Nico records in order -- it was just that sort of day. I hadn't heard them in awhile, so it was a bit of a refreshing change. Strangely, Nico is also at the centre of my first musical memory. When I was about four, my mother played me Chelsea Girl in its entirety, and then "Le Petit Chevalier" (as she was teaching me a bit of French), telling me that Nico's son Ari was only a bit older than me at the time; I found it absolutely magical. Unfortunately, although I was rather taken with Nico then (I doubt I could have imagined anything lovelier than having a mother who would let me sing on a record), and at different, brief periods throughout my life, I never managed to rediscover the utter wonder of her records until we moved into this new apartment in April 2005. Occasionally I entertain the thought of buying something of hers on CD, but it's the same mentality that prevents me from buying, say, the Smiths' first record on CD or what have you; there's something in the ritual of taking the LP out of the sleeve, flipping the switch, and setting down the needle that makes pressing digital buttons seem like sacrilege. (Though CDs had already become pretty much the norm by the time I was old enough to buy them myself, my mother has always had an impressive collection of records.) I just feel like I can appreciate an album more if I have to do a bit of work to put it on and don't have a PAUSE or STOP button readily available; if something shuffles up on my iPod it takes one more step towards the death-trap of being ignored. (School begins in exactly one week; what in the world am I going to do? I'm absolutely not prepared.)