They do, in a way that feels less like a nostalgic movie and more like a live, dusty archive. The hiss is the record’s way of saying, “I wasn’t in a studio, I was in a room where people were talking and clinking glasses.” It reminds us that the 1920s weren’t a polished ballroom, they were a cacophony of real life. But that same hiss also blurs the line between what actually happened and what we want to imagine, so we’re rewriting history in the very act of listening. It’s charming, yes, but also a little deceptive—just another layer of story that we, the listeners, add to the original.