I fell in love with music CDs again, here’s why

As I sit here typing this article, Pink Floyd’s Wish You Were Here is spinning inside my CD player. The sound fills my home office, rich and unfiltered, reminding me why I started loving music in the first place. It’s more than just the songs themselves—it’s the experience of putting on an album, holding the case in your hands, reading the liner notes as you listen. Lately, I’ve found myself reaching for CDs again, craving that tactile connection to music I thought I’d left behind. For years, streaming took over my life, offering instant access to everything but leaving me feeling like something was missing. Now, as the opening notes of “Shine On You Crazy Diamond” play, I think I’ve figured out what it was.

I hadn’t realised how much I missed the ritual.

I was CD-less for ten years

From 2012 to 2022, I had pretty much forgotten what it felt like to hold a CD case. Most of my collection? Sold off before the big move to the UK. Most went to a second-hand music store in my hometown; a selection to a fellow music fan from an invite-only music forum. The ones I really couldn’t part with—my prized treasures—ended up in a cardboard box in my mum’s house in Italy, where they gathered dust for years. I couldn’t explain it at the time, but looking back, maybe I knew I wasn’t quite ready to let them go. But streaming had taken over, and CDs? Well, they just felt like relics of a pre-Spotify age.

And then, something changed.

The return to physical music

It all started with yet another Pink Floyd obsession during my lifetime—second half of 2022, the Australian Pink Floyd Show performed at a walking distance from where I live and I couldn’t miss them. I found myself deep in the rabbit hole again, dissecting again every sonic nuance, every synth note of The Dark Side of the Moon. The hyperfixation came first, but the turning point came during a trip to a record fair just a few weeks later. Rows and rows of CDs, records, tapes—it was like stepping into a time capsule. I picked up a handful of CDs, a little unsure of how they would fit into my music diet, but by the time I got home, I was hooked again.

Reason #1: They just sound better

Here’s the thing. If you’ve only been streaming music for years, you might have forgotten how good a CD can sound. I’m not a purist who insists that vinyl is the only way to listen to anything, but when I pressed play on my copy of John Mayer’s The Search for Everything, it felt like someone had pulled the cotton out of my ears. Compared to Spotify or YouTube, the difference is palpable. Streaming is great for discovery or background music while I’m working out or travelling, but when I really want to immerse myself, I now reach for a CD.

It’s not just about rewarding myself, though. It’s about supporting the artists. There’s something tangible in owning a piece of their work, a physical item that says “I care about what you do enough to own it.”

Reason #2: The whole package

I forgot how much I missed the tactile experience of owning music. Streaming has turned album art into tiny thumbnails on our phone screens, a mere afterthought. But when I buy a CD, the entire package—the booklet, the liner notes, the visuals—is part of the artistic experience.

I still remember ripping into a new album as a teenager, devouring the booklet before I even listened to the music. Flipping through those pages, reading the lyrics, looking at the credits—it was a ritual. Now that I’ve started buying CDs again, I realise how much I missed that immersive experience. The album artwork isn’t just a decoration; it’s an extension of the music. Fonts, graphics, layouts—all these elements were carefully curated by the artist, meant to be consumed alongside the songs. Streaming just doesn’t offer that depth.

Reason #3: Cultural legacy

There’s something deeply personal about curating a physical music collection. The bands, artists, and albums we choose to keep are more than just music; they’re markers of our cultural journey. For me, Red Hot Chili Peppers, Pink Floyd, Dream Theater—they aren’t just bands; they’re chapters in the story of who I am.

In a world where digital services might disappear or change, I want my collection to outlast me. It’s a legacy I’m building, an archive of the sounds that shaped me, for whoever comes after. My CDs are a testament to the music that moved me, and I want that to be accessible no matter what happens to my Spotify subscription.

How I’m listening to them

Here’s the kicker: I didn’t even realise I had everything I needed to dive back into CDs, apart from the player itself. I’ve got a home recording studio, with gear I use to record bass lines, but it just lacked one crucial piece of the puzzle: a CD player. I bought a cheap one from Amazon, plugged it in my laptop, which is always connected to audio interface and studio monitors, and suddenly, I’m dusting off albums I hadn’t touched in years. I’m cranking up the volume in my studio and listening to music the way it’s meant to be heard—loud, physical, uncompressed.

Pro tip: Give your CDs a facelift

If you’re like me, many of your old CDs probably look like they’ve survived a war zone. Broken teeth on the cases, glue residue from old stickers, faded or opaque plastic covers—you know the deal. Before you write them off, here’s a simple fix: buy new jewel cases. Seriously, it’s like giving your CDs a fresh new wardrobe. You can pick up a bulk pack of cases (either black or clear trays) on Amazon for cheap. A quick swap, and suddenly, your old CDs feel brand new again.

In a world dominated by streaming services, rediscovering the humble CD feels like finding a lost treasure. Maybe it’s nostalgia, maybe it’s the sound quality, or maybe it’s just about reconnecting with music in a way that feels intentional. Whatever it is, I’m back—and it feels damn good.