Lo-fi and the way it ages is something that reveals whether the aesthetic choices were serving the music or obscuring it.

There are lo-fi records from fifteen years ago that sound better to me now than they did then, and lo-fi records from the same period that have aged into unlistenability. The difference is almost entirely about whether the lo-fi aesthetic was doing compositional work or was just an artifact of the recording circumstance.

The records that age well are the ones where the limitation is integrated into the music's structure — where the specific quality of the tape noise or the frequency response ceiling or the room sound is part of how the song works emotionally. These records would be diminished by cleaning up, not improved.

The records that age badly are the ones where the lo-fi was compensating for songs that weren't fully developed or production that was covering for problems that cleaner recording would have exposed. Time strips away the novelty of the aesthetic and leaves only the music, and if the music wasn't strong enough to stand on its own, what remains is the imperfection without the charm.