It was 2015. My school had just inaugurated its music room. I stepped in the calm room long before it started filling with ragas and talams. I recall that when I entered, a detail quickly caught my attention. Mounted on the wall behind the drum kit were a series of black discs and album covers in frames: vinyl records. To a tween who had grown up listening to music only on the radio and television, they looked like oversized CDs, decorative relics from another era.
Nearly a decade later, after years of algorithm-driven playlists and mounting music streaming subscriptions, I found myself leaning towards the very format I once dismissed as mere wall decor. It’s just not me; people in the music industry, across the country, have been trying to bring back these physical formats to the mainstream. In recent times, vinyl listening sessions have been quietly slipping into Chennai’s cultural calendar as the city’s music lovers and collectors are discovering that the experience is less about the record itself and more about learning to listen again, rather than hear.
For marketing professional and music curator Sudhir Viyas D, who runs the music entity Pattukkaaran (an alter ego), the idea was born out of repeated requests from followers. “People kept messaging me saying they wanted to experience physical media. Many didn’t have CD players, cassette players or vinyl setups at home, so I decided to create that experience for them,” he says. What began as an extension of his blog and podcast has now grown into sold-out listening sessions, with nearly 60 attendees at each gathering and requests pouring in from cities like Bangalore and Coimbatore.
“People are fed up with streaming. Nobody practises conscious listening anymore; music has become passive. When was the last time you simply sat down and listened to a song without scrolling through your phone? Nothing comes to mind because we're constantly overstimulated. People want a break from that,” Sudhir rues the way people consume music today.
That philosophy shapes every session. “Before the first song begins, attendees are asked to silence their phones, dim the lights, and immerse themselves in the music,” Sudhir says. Sometimes, there is no conversation until an entire album has finished playing. He explains, “For the 'Eera Vizhi Kaaviyangal' session (held in July), we didn’t speak at all until the album ended. Since it was full of melancholic songs, I wanted people to experience the entire emotional journey without interruption.”
The sessions are far from passive. Between songs, Sudhir breaks down the music, drawing attention to instrumentation, production choices, and compositional techniques. He describes the sessions as an “educational experience for people to listen to the music concepts involved”.
For Dhananjayan, who hosted a vinyl listening session dedicated to Ilaiyaraaja’s Symphony No. 1, commemorating the artist’s 50 years in the industry, the appeal lies in hearing details that often go unnoticed. “Vinyl lets you hear the complete composition of a composer. You begin to notice Raaja’s melodic basslines, polyphonic interludes, fugues, and symphonic orchestration. It lets us experience and appreciate music much better,” he says.
His own journey into vinyl started unexpectedly. “Initially, Raaja’s Symphony No. 1 was released exclusively on vinyl. I ordered it without even owning a player. That’s how I got into vinyl," he recalls. Although he believes Chennai’s vinyl community is “still a very small group of music enthusiasts”, he says the sessions create opportunities to appreciate music beyond casual listening. “For someone like me with no formal training in music, these sessions help me interact with musicians and enthusiasts and understand music from an academic perspective.”
With these sessions seeing an audience across age groups and communities, organisers are focused on the human connections that these sessions bridge. “I want to build a community where people talk about art and how a song changed their lives. If you meet someone who loves the same song you do, they'll notice something you missed. That’s exactly the kind of conversation I want these sessions to create,” Sudhir says.
While vinyl remains a niche market in India, both organisers are optimistic. Sudhir says that the cost of players and records continues to be a barrier, and local demand is yet to match international markets. From a listener’s perspective, Dhananjayan echoes, “I'm hopeful and genuinely wish that conscious music listening grows significantly.”
Perhaps that is the biggest takeaway from Chennai’s vinyl revival. In a world where music has become an endless stream in the background as a filler, these sessions invite people to do something deceptively simple: stop, sit down, and truly listen.