Digging a record out and dealing with a sound system is more work than opening up Spotify. You're also not already on your computer, surrounded by distractions. So, being invested in the process and having to make deliberate steps to engage in something else encourages people to focus more on the music and the experience.
Also, and this sentiment is probably a meme or something, but I feel that being able to take unlimited pictures has hurt casual photography. The extreme example here is people living through their phones, taking pictures of every bite of food, etc. A disposable camera really made me think about each picture I took (limited # photos, paying for the camera, have to go get them developed).
Now, obviously I could listen just as well using Spotify, and on occasion I do - but to me, the whole ritual of bringing out an album, putting it on the turntable, brushing off the lint (if any), putting down the needle...
It all sets the stage. It gets me in the state of mind, if you like, where I can sit down and enjoy music at the fullest.
It is not because it sounds better (It doesn't, unless someone f---ed up the mastering).
It is not because of any inherent superiority of analog systems (they aren't).
It is because my stupid mind plays tricks on me and will not let me relax properly unless I put some effort into listening to the music.
Also agree fully on the 'advantage' of having limited exposures available - again, this is a problem of lacking self discipline, but I find when reviewing my photos that I have a significantly higher keeper ratio when shooting film; as I only get 38 (35mm) or eight (6x9) exposures on a roll of film, I tend to think a little bit more before pressing the shutter release - taking the couple of extra seconds to fine-tune the composition, make sure I haven't got too much clutter in the frame, etc, etc.
Again - if I were better at showing my mind who calls the shots, digital would be just as great. Problem is just I tend to go all Texan (no offense) with a digital camera - lots of shooting, sort out the good ones afterwards. Spend more time in front of a computer.
I bet a lot of sports photographers, too, were quite relieved when they could offload their F5s for something digital.
(The F5 being a beast, by the way - if memory serves, you could get 8 or even 9 fps out of it. A friggin' FILM camera. As if that wasn't enough, Nikon would be happy to sell you multiple F5s (each with its dedicated lens, of course) and an expensive thingamajig which let them shoot synchronously, but with an offset so that you'd get [n] times 8fps - though at a staggering cost.)
I love my F5. Closest I'll ever come to wielding a gatling gun.
I just did a quick estimate and would say that there're around 300 vinyl records in my household, which I suppose is at the low end for people I know with a record player. A few years back, I owned one or two at most, and didn't have a functional player. That seems to have shifted similarly for a lot of people. You can buy the things new at such resolutely unhip outlets as Barnes & Noble, if you're so inclined.
I'll be pretty happy if vinyl settles into a role as the end-state consensus equilibrium of physical media for music, which is roughly what seems to be happening. Still-playable records encompass most of the era of recorded music, require no digital computation to play, and are substantial enough as artifacts to incentivize paying money for units of art. They're also physically attractive objects with attendant ritual protocols that are easily legible across every living generation.
Accuracy of reproduction is, above some baseline threshold, not the real concern here.
All of which, I guess, is just to say: You're probably right that this is unsurprising. There's a market. "Hipsters" is a convenient shorthand, but it's worth remembering that technologies usually have important properties which are lost to succeeding modes of tech, even when things like the appearance of film grain can in theory be easily reproduced by a filter or what have you. We use the new stuff and we forget the real dimensions of the old stuff.