With more than 300 CDs -- that's individual discs, not necessarily 300 albums -- I knew I had a problem. Hear a cool song on the radio, buy the CD. See a group open for another band, buy their CD. And, of course, there are my favorite artists, for whom I have every album released, including some bootlegs, and a few that are redundant. And now, what with a girlfriend with a collection nearly as large as mine with maybe only 1/3 the overlap, there are all kinds of CD copies to add to the collection.

So I've sworn off purchasing CDs. Just like that. Cold turkey. It's going well, so far, I've not even lusted over a new album since Christmas. Sure, the Barenaked Ladies put out their Greatest Hits, but I've got everything else they've released, plus the King of the Hill soundtrack, so there are only three songs on it that are new to me. Nevermind that one, their cover of Lovers In A Dangerous Time is a great song, I've managed to refrain, even after seeing it in Jack's on Sunday.

But part of what has enabled me to avoid CD spending is my committment to listen to those I've already purchased. All of them. All 300+. It's that "use it or lose it" philosophy: How can I justify holding onto all those discs if I don't listen to all of them? And how can I admit I was wrong and just go ahead and throw out some of those I'm sure I'll never slide into the CD player again? I can't, because that's me.

So, since New Year's Day, I've spent 90 percent of my car time listening to my CD collection in order from A to Z -- well, to D, because that's as far as I've gotten. Every disc, every track, all the way through. That means I have to sit through the songs I don't like. I have to get through albums I no longer enjoy as much as I did when I bought them. Some of them I'm even embarrassed that I own, yet I'm getting through them.

But this little experiment in obsession has its benefits. I rarely listen to music radio now, which always holds the threat of hearing a new song that I will like and want to find on CD. When I do take a break from my run through the CDs, I'll listen to NPR or sports talk or New Jersey talk radio. On occassion, I'll flip to a local independent college station that plays all the good stuff you never hear on the Top 40 bands that are overloaded with hideous, filthy, stinky, dirty pop.

And I'm also rediscovering some of the overlooked gems of my collection. Today, on the way to work, I rolled to the upbeat riffs of "Keep on Growing" and "Anyday" on Derek and the Dominos' Layla album. I've remembered how much I do enjoy Barenaked Ladies while listening to their discography in chronological order. I've smiled at the memories produced from Sheryl Crow's album history, which begins in high school (Tuesday Night Music Club, 1993), goes through college (Sheryl Crow, 1996) and continues to post-grad life (Globe Sessions, 1998, and Live From Central Park, 1999).

I've also come to appreciate some albums I purchased spontaneously (compulsively?) for a single and didn't pay much attention to the rest. "Tubthumping" was a senior year impulse buy, and I don't know if I'd ever listened to the album from start to finish. I can't say I'll pop it into the CD player often, but the memories brought back by the title track were worth it. Listening to the blues of Robert Cray (purchased for "Just a Loser"), put me in a good mood driving the Turnpike that day.

The highlights to come include my eight or so Dylan albums, the Eagles run, the John Mellencamp metamorphosis (from John Cougar to John Cougar Mellencamp to John Mellencamp), and the various scattered albums of Elton John, Billy Joel, James Taylor, Sting, Neil Young and others. I'll have to get through The Wiseguys ("Start the Commotion"), OMC ("How Bizzare") and that hideous theme song on the Titanic soundtrack (Celine Dion sold her soul to the devil) What? Who said that?

And somewhere down the line, after OMC but before the soundtracks, I will spend upwards of 20 hours, I believe, rockin' and rollin' along the New Jersey roads to the ground-breaking guitars and brilliant lyrics of Bruce Springsteen, everything from Greetings from Asbury Park to Live in New York City. I have no idea when my listening and driving habits will bring me to the Boss, but it will likely be summer, when the windows can be down and the sun will be warm.

Or, at least, I'd better reach him by the fall, or this project will have to carry over to next year.

Yikes.