There is something strangely magical about pressing play on a cassette player. It is not the easiest way to listen to music. The sound quality is not perfect, the tape can wear out, and sometimes you have to rewind before you can hear a favourite song again. Yet, for many music lovers, that is exactly the charm.
While the world has moved almost completely towards streaming, a growing number of people are rediscovering physical music formats. Vinyl has already made its impressive comeback, but another, more unexpected format is also attracting attention: the cassette tape.
Websites and blogs dedicated to cassette collections, such as Hails & Ales or in The Netherlands where I live Platomania, show that there is still a passionate community around this small plastic box with magnetic tape inside. These collectors are not simply looking for the best possible audio quality. They are looking for a connection with music.
And that connection is something I completely understand.
Earlier this year, I bought a bright red second-hand (third-hand or maybe even seventeenth-hand?) Sony Walkman. It was not a practical purchase. In fact, from a purely technical perspective, it makes little sense. I have access to millions of songs through streaming services. I have high-quality digital files at home. I can listen to music anywhere, anytime.
But I bought that Walkman for one specific reason: a cassette recording I have been keeping for years. It is a recording of a Roxy Music concert in The Hague. A fantastic performance by a band that was always about atmosphere, detail and musicianship. When I put that cassette into the Walkman and press play, something remarkable happens. The music itself is already special, but then there is the mechanical sound of the Walkman: the tiny motor running, the subtle noises from the tape mechanism, the feeling that the music is physically moving through the device. That combination creates a completely different atmosphere.
The little imperfections become part of the experience. The slight hiss, the mechanical sounds, the fact that this is not a perfectly clean digital stream — they all add something human. It feels less like playing a file and more like opening a small time capsule.
Of course, my new Walkman did not arrive quickly. Earlier this year, The Netherlands experienced a period with unusually heavy snowfall, and deliveries were delayed. For a while, I was wondering when my little red music machine would finally arrive. But when it finally appeared, the wait was completely worth it.
That is why I enjoy following websites and communities that focus on cassette music. They understand that listening to music is not only about convenience or technical perfection. It is also about memories, stories and rituals.
At home, I still have a small collection of cassettes. Some are old recordings that have been with me for decades. Others are newer releases that show that the format is not just a nostalgic curiosity. Among them are tapes from the Dutch band Alquin, a group that played an important role in the Dutch progressive rock scene. And I also have a much newer cassette release from Cigarettes After Sex, proving that even modern artists see value in this old-fashioned medium.