In an age of streaming and playlists curated by algorithms, it’s easy to forget that music was once something you could hold in your hands. Yet across coffee shops and student dorms in Bacolod, a low hum signals a growing fascination with vinyl records. Gen Z listeners—those born into the digital era—are rummaging through crates of LPs and queuing up at local record fairs to experience music the way their parents and grandparents did.
What’s driving this analog revival? For many young people, vinyl represents a break from the endless scroll of digital platforms. There’s a ritual to it: selecting an album, admiring the artwork, gently placing the needle, and committing to listen from start to finish. According to international sales data, vinyl record sales have surged in recent years—outselling CDs in some markets for the first time since the 1980s. It seems that the slower, tactile experience offers a refreshing counterpoint to on-demand streaming.
Local businesses have noticed. In downtown Bacolod, a tiny shop called SpinCycle opened last year, stocking both new pressings and well-loved classics. The owner, a former DJ, hosts ‘listening parties’ where patrons sip locally brewed coffee while discussing liner notes and guitar solos. Similar scenes play out at weekend flea markets, where teenagers haggle over copies of their favorite bands’ albums and share recommendations with strangers.
Social media, paradoxically, has helped fuel the craze. TikTok is filled with videos of young collectors showing off their latest finds and offering tips on turntable maintenance. Vinyl-themed hashtags trend regularly, and influencers invite followers to vote on which album to play next. The analog format has even inspired a resurgence in album artwork appreciation—art students are replicating iconic covers in their own styles, and some musicians in the Philippines are releasing limited-edition vinyl versions of their EPs.
Of course, vinyl isn’t replacing streaming any time soon. Most collectors still use digital platforms for convenience. But the growing love affair with records speaks to a deeper desire for intentionality. When you dedicate 40 minutes to listening to an album uninterrupted, you’re choosing to slow down and give an artist your full attention. In a world of constant notifications, that simple act can feel revolutionary.
So if you’ve ever wondered why young people are carrying stacks of LPs down Lacson Street, know that it’s more than nostalgia. It’s part of a broader movement toward mindful consumption and appreciation of craft. Whether you’re rediscovering your parents’ record collection or starting one of your own, the return of vinyl invites us all to listen a little more closely.
