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FRAMINGHAM, Mass. — Self-described “audiophile” and “vinyl junkie” Jerry Cordman possesses encyclopedic knowledge of the first half of countless masterful albums, a unique trait that acquaintances attribute to his near-pathological laziness, confirmed sources.

“There’s nothing more relaxing than spinning side one of a musical masterpiece, finally gathering your strength to walk 10 feet to the turntable, forgetting the album is only half over, and putting on something altogether different,” said Cordman, as he prepared for an immersive listen to Wu-Tang’s “The 36 Chambers” that would inevitably not include “C.R.E.A.M.” or “Wu-Tang Clan Ain’t Nuthing ta Fuck Wit.” “Name a classic album, and I guarantee you can find it on my shelf among my 3,000-and-counting vinyl collection. What’s more, I can tell you the most obscure details about the first five or so tracks.”

Cordman, who is unaware of the existence of a Slayer song called “Raining Blood,” is a frequent source of irritation for his live-in girlfriend Shannon Beckett.

“It’s ridiculous,” said Beckett. “I’ll hear the first half of Nirvana’s ‘Nevermind’ playing, followed by 20 minutes of the sound of the needle scraping the dead wax. I’ll go into the living room to find him just sacked out on the couch. After listening to his detailed monologue about how it’s a shame ‘Smells Like Teen Spirit’ is the most iconic song on the album when ‘In Bloom’ is clearly superior. I mentioned that my favorite track is ‘On a Plain’ and he looked at me like I had three heads and asked me if that was on ‘Incesticide.’ When he finally got his ass off the couch, he put ‘Nevermind’ away and broke out ‘The Velvet Underground & Nico.’ I swear he doesn’t even know there’s a song on there called ‘Heroin,’ but he can wax eloquent about ‘Femme Fatale’ all day long.”

Social Psychologist Lena Marx confirmed that this phenomenon is not uncommon.

“Lots of music fans want the cachet of collecting and listening to vinyl,” said Marx. “But the actual effort of flipping the record doesn’t produce anywhere near the same level of dopamine as selecting a new album and carefully removing it from its sleeve while filing away the last one in whatever annoying organizational system they’ve decided on. It’s almost as though the appeal of vinyl collecting is more about elitism than audio quality.”

At press time, Cordman was vehemently insisting to his father that there most definitely is not a Beatles song called “A Day in the Life.”

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