Granted, it is certainly not considered as vital as it was 25 years ago. Back then we all sat glued to BBC Radio One on a Sunday evening – taping, yes taping (on a cassette), the top 10 – while Top Of The Pops was required viewing.
However, this week the Official UK Singles Chart celebrates its 60th anniversary which gave me an excuse to dig out some of my vinyl collection.
Not that I need much prompting.
The way we buy music these days has rendered the chart almost irrelevant but the grand old list – which first appeared in the pages of the New Musical Express (NME) on November 14, 1952 – continues.
It was the NME’s Percy Dickens who came up with the idea of a UK singles chart – based on the American Billboard listings.
He persuaded 52 record stores to report their sales figures and Al Martino’s ‘Here In My Heart’, a favourite of my nan and grandad as I recall, stole the top spot.
It’s difficult to explain to anyone who has grown up with CDs or the internet what we’ve lost in recent years now that the downloading of music is de rigueur.
But when I was growing up in the Eighties the UK singles chart was crucial – going in hand-in-hand with regular visits to Lotus Records or Mike Lloyd Music up Hanley.
In 2012 you can have a fantastic collection of music on a device the size of a mobile telephone.
But it can never beat that feeling of purchasing a record, admiring the artwork, reading the notes on the sleeve, and sticking it on a turntable to hear that unmistakable crackling before the music kicks in.
I still have all my singles. My first purchases were a real mixed bag – reflecting no particular musical style or taste.
They include, in no particular order: Status Quo’s Marguerita Time; Belinda Carlisle’s Heaven is a place on Earth; Slade’s My Oh My; Billy Joel’s Uptown Girl; and the Auf Wiedersehen Pet theme.
Once I got to college, however, I fell in with a crowd of rock music fans and my music collection became devoted to U.S. bands Bon Jovi, Guns n’ Roses, Poison, Whitesnake, Aerosmith.
Jovi were, and still are, my favourite band – and my record collection reflects that.
I began attending record fayres at places like the YMCA in Hanley and saving up to buy singles I didn’t have.
These included limited editions, picture discs, posterbags, gatefold sleeves, and singles including foil stickers and backstage passes – as well as imports from places like the U.S., Germany, Holland and Japan.
I 1989 I remember paying £20 for the Bon Jovi single Runaway, released in 1984. That was an awful lot of money to me back then.
And digging out the UK limited edition issue of Wanted Dead Or Alive, complete with silver foil stickers still in mint condition, still gives me a thrill.
My record collection became a great source of pride – something to show my mates – just like a complete Panini sticker album.
It’s not quite the same with a virtual record collection that exists only on an iPod or some such thing.
That’s perhaps why many people under the age of 30 view their music collection as something they can access rather than something they actually own.
The dominance of CDs was relatively short-lived and vinyl collectors like myself will point to the artwork and packaging of singles and albums which, in terms of their desirability, were often as important as the musical content of a purchase.
I’ve got many more albums on vinyl than I have singles but my singles collection reminds me of a time when the charts still mattered and when millions still paid attention to them.
Which brings me to my main Christmas present request this this year: A new record player, of course.
Pick up the Weekend Sentinel every Saturday for 12 pages of nostalgia