Before we broke for lunch, we enjoyed the clear, silky harmonies on Linda Ronstadt's intense take on "You're No Good," culled from a Japanese import reissue of her 1976 Greatest Hits collection on Warner-Pioneer, plucked on a whim from Micah's ever-bulging shelves.

After lunch, I figured it was time to unsleeve another LP Rob had a stake in: the Beach Boys' Holland (Brother/Warner Bros., 1973). It's one of Micah's all-time favorite records, and until today, he had never met its producer, let alone knew he shared a home state with him. (See, there's always a method to my madness.) The track of choice could only be the hit piano-driven harmonic gem "Sail On Sailor." Ricky Fataar's drums — recorded in the same room as the aforementioned Aja — are dead, and that's a good thing. Rob was clearly moved. "I got goosebumps," he said. "There's something about the immediacy of Carl Wilson's voice that makes you feel like you're in the room. In the pre-chorus, you can discern the spatial relationship between the guitar lick that wraps around Carl's background-vocal answer lines. On the CD, they're down in volume — not intentionally, but because that dimensional information and intimacy just get lost. It sounds like he's behind a piece of glass. Every time I've listened to this song on CD, I've thought, 'Those vocals aren't loud enough.' I hadn't heard the vinyl in ages, and it made me think, 'This is how I remember it sounding.' It makes me feel proud." Noted Micah, "That's why we're here. To feel that kind of magic."

We wound things down by spinning a few modern recordings: Radiohead's In Rainbows (the deluxe megabuck self-issued two-LP 45-rpm package from late 2007) and Porcupine Tree's Deadwing (Gates of Dawn, 2005). The Clubbers quickly found that there was virtually no difference between the In Rainbows LP and CD — "Digital is digital," shrugged Rob. But the Tree vinyl had a bit more oomph to it, and Rob was impressed by the shifting dynamics on "Halo," a testament to the production skills of Tree's mastermind, Steven Wilson.

The Club could have easily spun long and deep into the night, but other duties called to us all. We regrettably closed down the summit, and Rob and I went on our way. As I dropped him off at the foot of his driveway, Rob turned to me and grinned. "This was very cool," he declared. "When's the next listening session?" As soon as that nagging voice in my head resurfaces, you'll be my first call, old friend.