All of my motivation to make films, including The Art of the Record, comes from a deep curiosity about what makes us human. Why does music move us? Why do records and artwork carry so much meaning? Could art be one of the ways we make sense of being alive?

My earliest memories of music came through my parents’ records. I remember sitting in the living room with my sister and friends during long summer days in San Diego, listening to The Beatles, The Eagles, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Sister Sledge, and old comedy albums.

There were no screens competing for our attention and no endless selection waiting for us. We chose a record and stayed with it. We listened together. We were completely present in that room and in that moment.

The record player lived inside an oak cabinet that felt more like a piece of furniture than technology. A sliding door opened to reveal the albums, and the player felt almost sacred. Do not break the needle. I was always convinced I would.

At the time, it was simply how music arrived. Looking back, I understand that the ritual became part of the memory. The weight of the jacket, the artwork, the photographs, and the lyric sheet all became connected to the music and to that moment in my life.

In my teens and early twenties, I was a drummer and dreamed of becoming a punk rock star. Playing music was one of the few times when I felt completely present. My stepfather, a studio musician from the big band era, taught me to play drums in our garage.

Punk records gave me more than songs. The jackets, photographs, typography, and artwork helped me imagine an identity and a world beyond the suburbs. The physical record became part of how I understood the music and part of how I began to understand myself. It was a whole package.

This film grows from those memories and from the belief that the objects surrounding music are not separate from the music. They become part of how we experience it, how we remember it, and how we remember ourselves.

The digital world has given us remarkable access to music, but it has also encouraged us to move quickly from one thing to the next. A record asks something different of us. It asks us to slow down, make a choice, hold the music in our hands, and stay with it.

It reminds us that music is not only something we hear. It can be something we touch, share, remember, and carry with us.