The other day I was scrolling through my streaming service subscriptions trying to find one that had my favorite movie in its catalogue. Out of the eight platforms I’m subscribed to, not one had it.
This is not an uncommon experience—shows vanish overnight, movies cycle in and out of availability and songs disappear from streaming services without warning. We’ve been sold the idea that streaming means unlimited access, but in reality it’s the illusion of ownership.
That’s why the revival of physical media—vinyl, books, CDs, DVDs, cassette tapes—is more than just a wave of nostalgia. In a world where everything feels digital, disposable and controlled by corporations, physical media restores a sense of permanence, ownership and intimacy.
Permanence: A streaming service can drop your favorite show tomorrow without explanation. Entire series like “Westworld” have been erased from platforms as if they never existed. A DVD box set, by contrast, can’t be taken away by a licensing deal. A record doesn’t vanish because of a contract dispute.
Control: Streaming platforms feed us content through algorithms, narrowing our taste into predictable lanes. When you walk into a bookstore, a record shop or dig through a DVD bin, discovery feels organic. You stumble across things you didn’t know existed. Collecting physical media is a way of curating your own library instead of letting an algorithm curate it for you.
Intimacy: For me, there is nothing better than being able to hold in my hands a tangible copy of something I love. Owning a physical version of these things deepens my connection to them. I can feel the weight of the pages, the texture of the cover, the curved edge of a CD, the spine of a record. Each imperfection, each tear-stained page, each scratch on a CD tells a story of how it’s been used and loved. Flipping through the lyric book, reading the acknowledgments or discovering bonus features creates a sense of closeness and connection that a screen could never replicate.
Holding physical media turns consumption into an experience: placing a record on the turntable, flipping open a book to a favorite chapter, pressing play on a DVD with anticipation. In the age of instant streaming and endless scrolling, that perceptible connection makes the experience thoughtful, more deliberate and deeply personal—it’s the difference between hearing or seeing something and truly experiencing it.
Some might argue that collecting books, vinyl or DVDs is just overconsumption—that buying more physical media contributes to clutter, waste or unnecessary spending. And they have a point: there’s a fine line between collecting and hoarding. But physical media isn’t about
mindless accumulation; it’s about intentional ownership. It’s choosing to preserve, explore, and savor art in a way that digital convenience rarely allows.
Each purchase is a deliberate act against the disposable culture of streaming.
Physical media also acts as a resistance and safeguard against censorship. In the digital world, entire shows, albums or books can disappear overnight because of licensing disputes, government decisions or political pressure. A record, a paperback or a DVD can’t be quietly erased by a corporation or a courtroom decision. In a society where access to ideas is increasingly controlled, owning tangible media ensures that your access to art and knowledge cannot be erased—even when someone, somewhere, decides it should be.
Streaming isn’t going anywhere, and it shouldn’t. It’s convenient, fast and cheap. But the increasing number of CD releases, the growing demand for vinyl and the resurgence of independent bookstores all point to a hunger for something deeper.
People don’t just want to watch, listen, or read—they want to hold onto it.
When we rely solely on streaming, the art we love is always at risk of vanishing. Physical media ensures that our favorite stories, albums and films remain ours to experience, savor and return to—whenever we choose.