On 7's

Articles trumpeting the return of vinyl bare all the teeth and suspense of a Groundhog Day marathon. But in regurgitating talking points, these fluff pieces criminally ignore the format's greatest success—the 7".

Fragile, immediate, and at a size that fires the Overpower-hoarding neurons of junior high, the 45 rpm 7 is vinyl at it's purest.

By limiting track lists to one song per side, artists vying for new ears have no choice but to go for broke. (Or repeat consonants. Whatevvvs.)

This restraint is integral to the charm of a 45. While even celebrated albums can succumb to filler, the best 7s highlight how bands must use these limitations, eschewing glut for two-fisted bangers. Suddenly, their catchiest jams are pressed by necessity.

Small surprise then, that 7s get more playtime than anything else in my library: When introducing colleagues to Real Estate, it's their Fake Blues (Woodsist) record that hits the needle; over breakfast, it's Girls' Lust For Life/Morning Light (True Panther); during an evening smoke, The Mayfair Set's gorgeous s/t (Captured Tracks).

In an industry hemorrhaging sincerity, the 7" is a lithe, propulsive animal—sinewed, muscular, and instantly affecting.