I do think that hiss, that low‑level noise, acts like a quiet reminder that the tape isn’t just a storage medium but a living dialogue. It’s a little echo of the past, a whisper that each listen invites a new conversation, and that’s why analog feels warmer than the sterile precision of digital.

I’ve once held a tape of an old folk trio, and every time that hiss comes on, it feels like the room they sang in is right there with me, the walls breathing around the melody. The digital re‑issue sounds like a photograph—clear, but the warmth that made the song feel alive is missing. It reminds me that memory is as much about feeling as it is about recording.