Call me a Luddite but I’m married to the sound of vinyl. No, it’s not because I enjoy the rituals and routines of analog playback. I don’t thrill to the agonies of setting up a new tonearm or cartridge, I don’t spend hours minutely dialing in VTA for each and every disc, I abhor disc-washing, and I’m not even wild about coaxing forty-to-fifty-year-old LPs out of plastic bags or paper sleeves, slipping them onto spindles, tightening down record clamps, and cueing up tonearms.