I feel a little deviant when I admit that I don’t have much use for music. I listen to it when I’m doing something that requires the use of my hands and eyes but not my brain (washing dishes, choosing produce), but I don’t deeply care about it, or miss it when I go without.
I feel especially wicked when admitting this to someone with a large record collection. Being a voracious reader and book collector is impressive in its way, but most books are easy to identify on a shelf. A record collector has to get personal with his thin-spined records in order to find something; he has to take his time. The patience required for finding a record about equals the patience required to listen to a record; humans are visual creatures since TV and movies came on the scene, and employing only the ears for an experience necessitates some training.
This is not my chosen leisure activity.