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It says something about technological development that a material as artificial as vinyl has attained the status of being almost organic. The vinyl record, admired for its warmth and versatility yet derided for its sensitivity and tendency to age quite badly, had no chance against the glamorous if brittle consistency of the compact disc. However, the CD has since proved to be not quite the durable format it was initially promoted to be (I remember first seeing them on TV being used as drinks' coasters to demonstrate their toughness), and looks like being overtaken by the superior DVD. Meanwhile, the vinyl record has steadily regained its profile. While it will never return as the format of choice for the average punter, it is still the primary medium for club-based dance music, a global phenomenon that shows no signs of abating. It has become specialist rather than mainstream, but this has only added to its allure. Vinyl was always a format that encouraged display, with gatefold sleeves, endless inserts, coloured and shaped records, even cryptic messages etched into the runoff grooves. The physicality of vinyl records, and the performative nature of their interaction with the record playing equipment and the listener, means that vinyl has also come into its own as a raw material for artists.
Marco Fusinato's various experiments with record making and playing, Mutlu Cerkez's turntables and imaginary bootlegs and Ricky Swallow's home-made Multistylus Programme are three recent projects that come to mind. Generation X's experience of vinyl being overtaken by CDs was a major shift in their perception of popular culture, with the more customised, D-1-Y process of making, packaging and playing records being replaced by the uniform