Streaming hasn't killed physical media. It's made us crave it more. CDs are back in rotation, showing up in record stores, apartments, and design studios with a renewed sense of purpose.
The growing Aadam Jacobs Collection is an internet treasure trove for music lovers, especially for fans of indie and punk rock during the 1980s through the early 2000s.
The AT-LP120XUSB features basically everything you could want from a modern, upgraded turntable. The built-in phono preamp lets you easily swap the turntable from your headphones to your speakers without any extra steps or hardware.
The allure of the project is that the magnetic tape doesn't reproduce audio cleanly because the oxide coating introduces a slight instability in playback speed. But these are the 'flaws' that Iulius Curt is after, allowing the resulting sound to have that lo-fi warmth that's ideal for ambient listening.
The TTT-W magnetic modular wall rack is flushed against the wall, featuring four circular magnetic pads that create a vertical design piece, unifying the audio devices.
R&B in the 21st century has been in a constant state of flux, tugged between safe traditionalism and blurry attempts at progression. For the last decade-plus that "progression" has seen R&B music become more indebted to trap records and the moody atmospherics of alternative bands like Radiohead, Coldplay, or My Bloody Valentine.
If you grew up in an era where important documents meant physical papers, where proof of payment was a carbon copy receipt, and where your identity was verified by cards you could hold, wouldn't you be skeptical of being told all that could just float somewhere in 'the cloud'? For boomers, physical objects are anchors to reality.
The traditional museum experience, pausing in front of an object, and absorbing its history visually or by reading its description, has long shaped how collectors and others relate to cultural treasures. Yet, over the last few decades, digital technology has quietly rewritten many of those rules, changing not only how collections are exhibited but also how they are documented, preserved, and even inherited.
My father kept manuals for products we hadn't owned in years, filed alphabetically in a cabinet. When I asked why, he looked at me like I'd suggested burning money. "What if we need to look something up?" The concept of finding any manual online in seconds just doesn't compute for a generation that had to rely on these paper lifelines.
Physical media sales, DVDs especially, are experiencing a new burst of popularity. After a decade of freefall, enthusiasm among Gen Z halved a 20 percent sales decline in 2024 to just 9 percent in 2025. Stores have noticed. The Times' Karla Gachet spoke with staff at cultural hubs like Cinefile and Vidiots to discover why 2026 is already shaping up to be their biggest year, with the latter renting a surprising 1,000 DVDs a week.
Radioposter has built what it calls Paper-fi: physical books with synchronized audio soundtracks that follow readers in real time as they turn each page. No chips embedded in the paper, no QR codes to scan. The system uses patented computer vision and other modes through a smartphone or smart glasses to track your place in the book and play the corresponding audio.
I had always associated scrapbooking with grandmas and bored children, so, imagine my surprise when as a twentysomething with a Big Girl Job I found myself enamoured of printing, cutting, and sticking random bits and bobs into a book. If, like me, you've racked up a disconcerting amount of screen time, you may have stumbled across a multitude of craft-inspired social media posts made primarily by young women. Described as junk journalling, the hobby is distinguishable by an affinity with collecting and storing physical mementoes, such as tickets, receipts, packaging and Polaroids.
Last year saw the highest vinyl record sales since 1984, signaling a strong desire among music enthusiasts to return to a simpler time of physical media. Even cassette tapes are making a comeback, with major artists including Billie Eilish and Taylor Swift releasing their material on the iconic plastic, four-inch audio reels. Now, self-described "party slam" metal band Party Cannon is taking the nostalgia play - often framed as an act of defiance against greedy and AI-slop-infested streaming platforms - to a new level.
As technology distracts, polarizes and automates, people are still finding refuge on analog islands in the digital sea. The holdouts span the generation gaps, uniting elderly and middle-aged enclaves born in the pre-internet times with the digital natives raised in the era of online ubiquity. They are setting down their devices to paint, color, knit and play board games. Others carve out time to mail birthday cards and salutations written in their own hand.
Chances are this does exactly what you need. It will play your old CDs, your new CDs, your homemade mixtapes, the whole nine yards. You can even listen wirelessly thanks to onboard Bluetooth. It's got a decent battery life that can last you up to six hours, and it uses a USB-C to recharge. We usually have one of those on hand.
We photograph people obsessively, but we rarely capture the everyday spaces where life actually happens. And when those spaces disappear, something profound goes with them. The furniture was never just furniture—it was the stage where decades of family life played out. Every scratch, stain, and worn patch told a story.
It's similar to a vinyl record, but the tracks are in a USB drive. It has no moving parts inside, so it's totally digital in how it stores sound. But it has a physical shape users can hold, flip over, look at, and collect, so in a way, the designer is asking: what if digital music had a physical body?