I recently did something I haven't done in more than 20 years: I put on a record -- an actual vinyl LP -- and just listened to it. The album was Bon Iver's For Emma, Forever Ago. I had mail-ordered the record, and when I found it waiting for me on my front porch one evening after work, I decided to make it the night's entertainment.

With no television and no other distractions, I just sat there and listened. But while I listened, I held the dust jacket and used the time to really consider and appreciate the artwork. I studied the lyrics and read all the liner notes. What a novelty.

A while back on the blog, I mentioned that I had gotten rid of all my CDs because I thought the compact disc was a dying format. It's so much easier to access everything from a hard drive. When I asked listeners what they thought would be the music format to replace CDs, a handful of people said "vinyl." I thought it was funny, but I've come to realize that they may be right.

I've read a number of reports that sales of vinyl LPs and turntables are way up. Retailers speculate the obvious: Vinyl turns music into a tangible work of art, allowing a deeper connection between listener and artist. And many vinyl LPs now come with a code to download a free MP3 version of the album, giving listeners both the convenience of digital audio and the beauty of art you can hold in your hand.

Vinyl could save not only music as high art, but also the music industry itself. Labels and music retailers, reeling from years of plummeting sales, have been trying to lure buyers into purchasing physical CDs instead of downloads. Some have included videos or bonus tracks with the discs. But vinyl is a perfect excuse for returning to an actual, physical record store, where you can lay down some money and walk out with something real. I'd love to see local record stores come back.

Some bands see the potential, too. This fall, Of Montreal released multiple versions of its latest album on vinyl (with the free download code). The different versions include extra treats like wall art, buttons, a T-shirt and a paper lantern. The artwork on both the cover and album folds is simply stunning. It would seem almost criminal to shrink it down to the size of a CD booklet or to turn it into a tiny icon for a computer.

Of Montreal's irresistible vinyl release finally convinced me to start collecting physical LPs. I dusted off my turntable and started hunting down some of my favorite recordings on vinyl. So far, I've acquired a total of... eight records.

I asked around the office. All of the NPR Music producers copped to owning hundreds of LPs, but only one of them (Lars Gotrich) still actively buys vinyl.

What does your vinyl collection look like? E-mail us a photo of it; we'll post some of them here on the site.

The other night, I went to hear Brian Wilson perform his new work, That Lucky Old Sun, at the Warner Theatre in Washington, D.C. We hope to webcast a recording of part of that show soon.

I was in my seat for no more than five minutes when a Brian Wilson fan spotted my "all access" stage pass. A man named John held in his hands a book on surfing -- one he obviously treasured, wrapped in protective plastic. He showed it to me the way a proud parent would show baby pictures; the book was filled with autographs from famous surf-rock stars, including guitar king Dick Dale.

On a page filled with autographs, I saw a blank white area, and that's when John said something like, "I need to have Brian sign his autograph right here. I have a pen, and if you could just please go backstage and have him write 'To John' and then sign his name, it would mean so much to me."

I hesitated. I have a lot of respect for performers and their need for personal space, but I also remembered so many years ago, standing in the lobby of a Holiday Inn to get Ray Davies to sign my album.

After much gentle but passionate and persistent cajoling, I said sure. I took his book, walked backstage, saw Brian Wilson and asked him to sign it, "To John, from Brian Wilson."

Less than two minutes later, I walked back to John, gave him a big thumbs-up and handed him his book. It was such a sweet moment, because it clearly meant so much to him.

As I stood around during intermission, I heard snippets of random conversations that went something like, "They love Brian so much, they named their son after him." Earlier in the evening, I saw someone with a surfboard trying to get a picture with Wilson.

Brian Wilson is a man with a hard past: an abusive father, bouts of deep depression and voices in his head. He's the sole survivor of a family of brothers (Carl and Dennis) who made up the core of The Beach Boys.

But what Brian Wilson can hold on to are his songs: They are, in a way, his children. And those children are very much alive and well because of an incredible bunch of dedicated fans and a marvelous band of musicians. They all derive so much strength and joy from Wilson's songs -- music as simple and innocent as "Surfer Girl" and as complicated and emotionally wrought as "I Just Wasn't Made for These Times."

It's easy to laugh off fandom of any kind. But having seen it up close, it's a powerful glue that bonds people together. It's powerful enough to make a dream or two come true.

If you're already registered and logged in, you'll find the poll here.

We've compiled our annual list of 100 nominees; you just have to tell us which ones you like the most. If you don't see one of your favorite artists listed in the poll, you can write-in the album and artist here in the comments section of the blog.

When was the last time you sat down and listened to your favorite record, held the artwork in your hands and did nothing else? For me, it's been ages. I find it so easy to have my attention pulled away by the Web, by email or even a magazine. The music may hold my interest, but the artwork rarely does.

I've come to the conclusion that it's the fault of the art and not my short attention span. I've never liked the CD format when it comes to artwork and liner notes. Sure, there are box sets that are knockouts, but the average CD booklet is hard to read and just plain too tiny.

Now comes the future of album covers: digital art.

For years, we've seen CDs with bonus videos and even electronic books. But nothing has knocked me out until recently, when I saw Snow Patrol's new interactive Booklet (a clunky but descriptive name) for its latest release, A Hundred Million Suns.

I downloaded the art for free as an application from the iPhone app store. I haven't even heard the music yet, though I could imagine listening on my iPod Touch, while opening a series of digital origami, complete with lyrics and liner notes.

The first screen shows a universe of origami shapes, like stars. Touch one of the shapes and it comes forward.

Pinch the origami to open or close it.

When some of the paper shapes open, you'll find lyrics or other notes.

There are also videos and Web links, but the key to my loving this has less to do with the execution and more to do with the form. I love the idea of sitting with my iPod and playing with the artwork while listening to music. Any artist or designer, frustrated by the CD format, will just delight in making art that moves, morphs and informs.

If you think of artwork the way a designer thinks of a video game, all of a sudden the paradigm shifts from bands getting their music on Guitar Hero to fans taking unforgettable journeys into a band's artistic vision, which includes its music, its words and its musings.

You think MTV was a marriage of music and art? Just wait.

It's hard to believe, but we're entering the final stretch of 2008, and it's time to pick your favorite CDs of the year.

In mid-November, we'll post a ballot, here on the blog, asking you to vote for the best albums of 2008. But for now, we'd like some nominations. There are some obvious ones: TV on the Radio's Dear Science, Bon Iver's For Emma, Forever Ago and Vampire Weekend's self-titled disc are a few of them. But what are some that aren't as obvious?

Tell us your nominations for the year's best CDs. We'll use your picks to compile a master list, which we'll then post here for voting. (Note: You'll need to register with npr.org to comment here on the blog and to vote in the poll we'll post in mid-November.)

Can't remember what albums came out this year? Browse the All Songs Considered archives to see what we've reviewed this year.

I'm thrilled to be able to share a very special concert with you: It's the Elephant 6 Orchestra, recorded live at Chicago's Bottom Lounge, on Oct. 21.

You've likely heard us talk about Elephant 6 before on All Songs Considered (I also mentioned the group a couple of weeks ago on this blog). This is a large, sprawling family of bands (Neutral Milk Hotel, Of Montreal, Elf Power, and The Apples in Stereo are some of them) that formed in the early '90s. After releasing a number of acclaimed and influential albums, E6 eventually dissolved, as members moved on to other projects or went on indefinite hiatus.

When E6 reunited for this special October tour, it marked the first time in more than a decade that many of the group's members had performed together. I was particularly giddy over the news because it meant I'd finally be able to see some of my favorite artists live. I was living out of the country during the collective's most prolific and exciting period back in the '90s and never got to see any of the E6 bands in concert (with the exception of Elf Power and Of Montreal, two of the group's bands that have continued releasing records).

I was totally geeking out at the Chicago show. I'll let you listen to the performance and read more at our concert page. But it was a very special and memorable night for everyone in E6 and everyone in the audience.

So what's a favorite band you've never gotten to see?

The name of my new love is Bloom, and it's the best iPhone/iPod application ever. Bloom is the creation of Brian Eno (my musical hero) and musician Peter Chilvers; it makes ambient music that's lovely, relaxing and not tacky with the touch of your fingertips.

The best way to experience Bloom is to find someone with an iPod or iPod Touch, give them $4 and download it from the iTunes Store. Then have fun together.

But, for the curious, I made a video. I've been making music with machines for nearly 30 years and this is the most elegant way I've ever seen. Do you know any other programs out there that do anything like this?

Calexico is marking the release of its new album, Carried to Dust, with a series of videos that include some nice, live performances of their new songs. We began last month with the first and second installments of the videos. We've just gotten the third part:

Part Two:

Part One:

I've been spending time with Carried to Dust, and think it may be the band's best album. It's an elegantly produced collection of songs, with some wonderfully haunting moments. Joey Burns and John Convertino, the duo behind Calexico's music, draw heavily on their favorite sounds: Portuguese fado, spaghetti westerns, Mexican mariachi, folk and rock. It all comes together on Carried to Dust as a richly seasoned and mature mix.

Burns and Convertino have long been taken by what they see as the majesty and mystery of the American Southwest, particularly their hometown of Tucson, Ariz. (They talk a lot about this in the videos). The sprawling city, where they've lived since the mid-'90s, has been the subject and inspiration for much of their music over the years, and Carried to Dust continues to drink from that well with ghostly narratives about the "strange people" they've encountered. Calexico colors the scorched landscapes with enough romance and strange curiosities to make you want to linger.

Let's say you've got 24 hours to live. Forget all your unfulfilled dreams, the countries you haven't visited, the people you haven't seen. We're going to use these precious few hours left to listen to some music. So close the bedroom door, put on your headphones and grab the five CDs you simply must hear. What will you choose?

Music reviewer and author Tom Moon took on this challenge (though he gave himself a lot more wiggle room) for his new book, 1,000 Recordings To Hear Before You Die: A Listener's Life List. After four years of writing and researching and digging through countless albums, Tom produced an impressive tome -- nearly 900 pages of artists, LPs and songs, as well as a detailed explanation of how each of them wound up on the list.

The book showcases a lot of the albums you'd expect to see: Bob Dylan's Blonde on Blonde or Bruce Springsteen's Born to Run, for example. But unless you're a music scholar, you probably haven't listened to -- or even heard of -- the vast majority of them.

On our latest episode of All Songs Considered, we talk with Tom about his book and listen to some of the amazing music he selected. You can also tell us your must-hear albums. You're more than welcome to give us a thousand, but I thought we'd keep it simple and ask for five. Be sure to tell us a little bit about why you picked them and include a recommended track.

A few things to keep in mind while making your picks: These aren't necessarily your all-time favorite albums. And they don't have to represent a broad range of genres or eras. These are just five albums you love and think people need to hear.

Here's one take on it (alphabetically):

Vic Chesnutt: West of Rome
Yeah, yeah, I mention Vic all the time. But, really, this is a rare album, and if you don't have it, you should get it. West of Rome is everything music should be: surprising, artful, beautiful, ugly, joyful, sad and entirely original. Listen to the title track.

Five Eight: The Good Nurse
This band struggled for many years to have a hit record. When its members finally gave up trying and decided to just do what they wanted, they came up with this little masterpiece. The Good Nurse is a concept album. Its songs take on many unpredictable forms; they're inspired and, at times, heartwrenching. If you're not teary-eyed by the end of the last song, singer Mike Mantione's elegy to a dying grandmother, check to make sure you have a pulse. "Off Season" or "Florence" are both good starting points.

Tim Hecker: Haunt Me, Haunt Me, Do It Again
I can imagine spending my last hour on earth listening to this one. Tim Hecker makes instrumental music that's incredibly three-dimensional, with the strangest, richest textures you can imagine. Put on your headphones and get lost in the opening track, "Music For Tundra Pt. 1."

Billie Holiday: The Complete Decca Recordings
I've told friends that I think this compilation represents the pinnacle of Western civilization. It's an exaggeration, of course. But then again... Holiday recorded for Decca from the mid-'40s until about 1950, which was when she was at the height of both her popularity and her gifts as a singer; this collection contains her finest recordings. Holiday often recorded her songs in a single take, and this collection includes a few incredible and rare moments in which she stops the performance, chats with the band about what went wrong, and starts again. My favorite track is "Sweet Hunk of Trash," with Louis Armstrong.

Jay-Z and DJ Danger Mouse: The Grey Album
I was going through my iTunes library, and it seemed criminal not to include a Beatles record, and there were a number of amazing hip-hop albums that popped up as candidates. So I decided to kill two birds with one stone. Besides, this really is a mind-blowing, brilliant mashup of two incredible albums. I still can't believe how well they work together. Listen to "99 Problems" mixed with "Helter Skelter." (You'll have to search for a copy online somewhere, since it was never released because of obvious legal conflicts.)

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Streaming from our site today, a week before its release, is Bob Dylan's new The Tell Tale Signs: The Bootleg Series Vol. 8. It strikes me as nothing short of remarkable that previously unreleased recordings (and sometimes incomplete recordings released by a major label) are streaming live on the Web, but maybe that's because I remember the scandal of the first Dylan bootleg.

There was a time when you had to whisper to the guy behind the counter at a record store, "Do you carry bootlegs?" By definition, bootlegs were illegal, and Bob Dylan bootlegs were the first hot property.

In 1968, word got out that there was new music by Dylan, recorded with The Band in a basement in upstate New York. What came out in the spring of 1969, however, was Nashville Skyline -- a good record, but not the one we'd heard about. Then, in the summer of 1969, FM radio began playing pirated Dylan recordings.

The Great White Wonder was the first bootleg I'd ever heard from anyone. On the cheaply packaged double LP, you could hear Dylan singing with The Band on songs such as "I Shall Be Released," "Open the Door Richard," "Too Much of Nothing" and "Tears of Rage." There were also recordings on the LP rumored to be made in a Minneapolis hotel room in 1961. It was all so underground, and it was all so exciting. I still have my copy of The Great White Wonder. Want to hear a cut?

Columbia Records and the record industry as a whole were in a tizzy when the bootlegs surfaced. It was the first cracks we could see in an industry that was consolidating and controlling. Don't get me wrong; I bought all of Dylan's records on Columbia. They did a great job, but as a fan, I wanted more.

Here are two quotes from the day that are enlightening. First, from Columbia, regarding the two guys who were distributing The Great White Wonder:

"They are at one time defaming the artist and defrauding his admirers. For these reasons, Columbia Records, in cooperation with Bob Dylan's attorneys, intends to take all legal steps to stop the distribution and sale of this album."

Then there is this, from one of the two men who were distributing the records around Los Angeles:

"Bob Dylan is a heavy talent," he said, "and he's got all those songs nobody's ever heard. We thought we'd take it upon ourselves to make this music available.

"Do you know what will happen if you get away with it?" he added. "Why, if John Mayall or anybody opens at the Whisky tonight, there'll be a live recording of it on the stands by the middle of next week."

That last quote was prophetic. It wasn't long before someone stole tapes of The Beatles from the Let It Be sessions. Live recordings of bands began to fill the bins, not just in mom-and-pop record shops, but in chain stores. A cottage industry built around music-hungry fans grew. Columbia couldn't stop it; no one could.

These days, there are legal bootlegs, illegal bit torrents and podcasts filled with professionally recorded music. What fans want is access to the musicians they love. They've been saying it for so long and so loud. Sometimes, someone listens. Thanks to Bob Dylan and Columbia, for releasing Tell Tale Signs, and for making it available here first.

Will Sheff plays DJ on All Songs Considered this week. Will is the songwriter and guiding light for Okkervil River.

One of the songs Will picked was by a group called The Penetrators. He thinks the band is from Syracuse, and says they might be an old soul band or garage rock band, but there's very little information out there about the group. We've seen a live album by The Penetrators on the Web. But the song Will played is from an old 45 he got from a collector friend down in Austin.

The song is called "The Scandalizer."

We want to know:

1. Who are The Penetrators?
2. Who wrote the song?
3. Who is singing?
4. Who is Curtis Seals?
5. When and where was this recorded?

Help us solve the mystery.

"Scandalizer"

It's Sunday and I'm on a train heading to New York for a chance to win an Emmy. I've been in radio 19 years, and earlier this year, we won an award for "lighting." A lighting award for an organization that not that long ago had all its eggs in radio's basket.

Now, it's Emmy time. We got the nomination for Project Song, under the category "New Approaches to News & Documentary Programming."

Project Song is a peek at the creative process. We give musicians a few days in a studio, we give them an image and a word to spark their creativity, and then they spend their time on a deadline trying to write and record a song. It's been a blast. We've only done a few: one with Stephin Merritt, another with a band called Georgie James, and then another with Nellie McKay. I'm working on another that we finished a while back with Death Cab for Cutie's Chris Walla and J. Robbins of Jawbox and Burning Airlines.

The competition is talented and very different. We are up against the New York Times, a couple of pieces produced by Frontline, the Washington Post and the Detroit Free Press.

The awards ceremony is Monday night. I may add to this blog live from the site if there is much that I could convey in a blog.

I'm proud of what we've done with musicians, giving them a place to create and grow. For now, the only Emmy I've ever had was a cat, and she's dead.

I'll let you know how it goes.

Footnote 09/23/08

We didn't win the Emmy, though we were honored to be nominated.
Here is the winner.

Congratulations to the Detroit Free Press.

Pink Floyd fans have long argued over which band member was the most important. Some say it was Syd Barrett, the founding member who gave the group its name and guided the then-unknown band in maniacally imaginative directions. Others argue that it's Roger Waters, the bassist who took over as lead songwriter after Barrett left the band in 1968; Waters led Pink Floyd through its most successful period. Then there are the David Gilmour fans, who say that the lead guitarist was most responsible for Pink Floyd's widely influential and groundbreaking sound. But for me, the heart and soul of Pink Floyd was always keyboardist Richard Wright, who died today at age 65.

I first heard the music of Pink Floyd, thanks to an older brother, when I was in elementary school in the 1970s. The album was Dark Side of the Moon. All these years later, I can still vividly remember listening to the record on headphones, with my eyes popping at the mindblowing sound I heard. Dark Side showed me that music could be so much more than the standard three-chord pop dreck on the radio. It could be transporting.

Of all the incredible sounds on Dark Side of the Moon -- and there are many -- it was Richard Wright's simple and beautifully elegant piano and organ that struck me the most. One of the songs he wrote for that album was the hypnotic and poignant "Us and Them."

While Wright's contemporaries -- keyboardists like Rick Wakeman of Yes or Keith Emerson of Emerson, Lake and Palmer -- were focused more on synthesizers as a driving (and often brash) force in music, Wright chose a more restrained style. He loved what a simple organ or piano line could bring to a song. His tasteful mix of jazz and neoclassical forms proved to be the perfect complement to the blues- and folk-flavored psychedelic rock of his bandmates. It's not that Wright didn't love synthesizers; some of his best work was largely synth-based. (Check out Wish You Were Here for proof.) But Wright's voice was always one of calm and control. It's one of the reasons the band rarely allowed extended jams during live shows: The songs were composed with such precise melodies, they didn't really lend themselves to free-form improvisations. Wright had a lot to do with that.

Richard Wright inspired me to be a musician. My parents forced me to take piano lessons when I was 6 and finally allowed me to quit when I was 9 because I loathed it so much. Wright made me want to return to the keyboard. More than 30 years later, the music I play and love today is shaped greatly by his music and what he brought to Pink Floyd.

When Waters and Wright left Pink Floyd and the band more or less fell apart for good in the mid-'80s, Gilmour and drummer Nick Mason soldiered on with the largely forgettable 1987 album A Momentary Lapse of Reason. It was obvious to most longtime fans that Waters' lyrics were no longer steering the ship. But for me, the most glaring omission was Wright's piano and organ. When the regrouped Pink Floyd returned in 1994 with The Division Bell, Waters was still gone, but Wright had returned -- and the band's new music was noticeably improved.

Like any Pink Floyd fan, I've long hoped the band would tour again. I'm not ashamed -- okay, it's a little embarrassing -- to say that I got misty-eyed when Waters, Gilmour, Mason and Wright reunited briefly in 2005 for a Live 8 performance. It sparked a lot of rumors and speculation that Pink Floyd would finally hit the road again. But now, with Wright's death, those hopes have come to an end.

Wright wrote my all-time favorite Pink Floyd song, one with a title suited to commemorate his passing. I'd like to think he's playing now in the "Great Gig in the Sky."

Calexico is marking the release of its new album, Carried to Dust, with a series of videos that include some nice, live performances of their new songs. This is the Second installment:

I've been spending time with Carried to Dust, and think it may be the band's best album. It's an elegantly produced collection of songs, with some wonderfully haunting moments. Joey Burns and John Convertino, the duo behind Calexico's music, draw heavily on their favorite sounds: Portuguese fado, spaghetti westerns, Mexican mariachi, folk and rock. It all comes together on Carried to Dust as a richly seasoned and mature mix.

Here's the first video installment:

Burns and Convertino have long been taken by what they see as the majesty and mystery of the American Southwest, particularly their hometown of Tucson, Ariz. (They talk a lot about this in the videos). The sprawling city, where they've lived since the mid-'90s, has been the subject and inspiration for much of their music over the years, and Carried to Dust continues to drink from that well with ghostly narratives about the "strange people" they've encountered. Calexico colors the scorched landscapes with enough romance and strange curiosities to make you want to linger.

Stay tuned for more!