Okay, I’m sure you know at least a dozen people who say “music is my life,” and “I love every type of music.” These statements are nothing to brag about. We’re in the 21st century, folks. With iPods, Napster and – gasp – illegal downloading software, someone would either have to have absolutely zero technology access – an unlikely situation for the average University student – or have no interest in music whatsoever to not pursue and enjoy as much music as humanly possible. The latter can’t possibly be true, judging by the number of iPods I see on campus and at the gym.
No, friends and readers, this type of music obsession is not special. Sorry. I have an addiction far worse. First off, let me openly admit that I legally purchase any music I deem worthy of repeat listens. Even for casual enjoyment, I may end up purchasing an album. Basically, it takes a lot for me to take pleasure in an album and not buy it.
This is where my vice comes into play. I have a potentially fatal condition referred to as CUMPS, or Compulsive Used Music Purchasing Syndrome. CUMPS consists of the undeniable urge to make weekly visits to at least one used CD store, trade out the old and bring in the new. On a light day, my CUMPS attacks may only last an hour, but on the more serious days, it could last as long as three. Most frequently, my CUMPS is suppressed by either the store kicking me out at closing or my parking-meter timing out.
It all began my sophomore year at the University. I, like many of you, was originally the standard “music is my life” fanatic, but when by chance I found an album I’d always desired – the formerly out-of-print “We Are the Romans” by fallen Seattle hard-core act, Botch – for a meager dollar, CUMPS officially developed within my system.
At my most recent count, I have more than 500 albums, more than 30 percent of which have been purchased at various used music stores. Remove gifts and promotional copies from that equation and that ratio jumps to at least a solid 50 percent.
However, my journey hasn’t ended yet. Currently, I’m in what is known as the “sorting” stage of CUMPS, which involves being obsessive-compulsive when deciding which albums stay, and which CDs will be part of the next trade-in. This “sorting” stage is somewhat of a drawn-out process, typically requiring days of analysis.
If you think you or a friend may suffer from CUMPS, be wary of the following symptoms: purchasing albums you didn’t know you wanted; purchasing mediocre albums simply because they are in the bargain bin; spending your grocery money on music and then starving the rest of the month; and spending an hour looking for music in the store and then spending another hour trying to narrow down your 10-plus selections. Other symptoms more commonly associated with advanced CUMPS, like mine, include refusing to purchase an album readily available from Amazon.com for the same price simply because it removes the element of “the hunt” and replacing a CD’s jewel case, therefore, effectively removing the “used” sticker, in case you decide to trade it back to the same store.
Currently, there is no cure for CUMPS, and I honestly do not expect one to come along in my lifetime, unless of course, I turn 40 and abandon all previous forms of joy and entertainment, much like my father did. Don’t be fooled by CUMPS’ cuddly name; it is dangerous and will probably be the end of me.
Kamran Rouzpay is a junior at the University.
