The needle descends slowly to the record as anticipation in the form of white noise fills the room. The crackle gives way to the first few notes, and the song swells to commencement in revolving rapture.

Following the birth of the cassette and eventually the CD, vinyl records have long been viewed as obsolete. But with the wave of Crosley Cruisers hitting the shelves at moderate prices, the old standard of playback is making a comeback among millennials.

As the child of an avid Deadhead and all-around music lover, I was raised hearing the voices that marked the ‘60s and ‘70s as a musical revolution. I discovered a lifelong admiration for those sound pioneers that made rock and roll the genre it is today.

I know I’m not alone when I say that the message of peace and freedom still resonates with me, and there’s something about dropping a needle on a spinning record that brings that feeling to the foreground. The seconds before the song begins sound so anticipatory, so ancient, that the words and notes that follow are somehow more poignant.

There have been countless criticisms of the Crosley Cruiser model, which can be packaged up much like a small briefcase and rests open like a book when in use. Arguably the most prevalent argument is that the sound quality is compromised due to its small stature.

Compared with a traditional, larger turntable, I will concede that the model probably does not project sound in the same way. It’s quieter, more muffled, and perhaps does muddy the sound quality to a degree.

But for a college student like myself, who is constantly packing up and living elsewhere for periods of time, the portability and convenience far outweighs any disparity in quality.

Maybe I could find a vintage turntable for cheaper that would work like a charm, but I am unwilling to sacrifice the ease with which I can take my favorite tunes wherever I go.

The other great thing about the revival of records is the newfound tangibility of the music I love. I relish in the giddy feeling that comes from unearthing one of the used albums I’ve been dying for from its alphabetical order in a store, dirt cheap from wear and tear.

The artwork, normally so small and understated on iTunes, is the essence of the record. It’s the artist’s physical expression of his or her work, and, in tandem with the words inscribed, it adds a new dimension to the meaning of the music. To have that to constantly review and reflect upon is a treasure.

I always wonder about the record’s previous owner, and feel grateful that I can be a part of the recycling process that gives an album new life.

I guess, more than anything, the allure of vinyl is that it makes music more than something of the background, something you can leave on and forget about. It involves the listener in an active process, more real and raw than any other form of sound reproduction.