I am basically a fancy hat, with a much larger ego.

I hold four quarts, but not a drop of blood, I can measure milk, or petrol, or a flood. Eight whole pints are packed inside my frame, What standard unit goes by my name?

Paper fears me, rock does not.

I sit upon a golden throne, a ruler born to reign, Unless I'm great, men will call me quite mundane. I am a force reckon with, a legendary name, But my subjects will reject me if they think I'm lame.

I have a grooved face but I never frown, I spinningly dance as the needle drops down. I can hold a dark history or capture your voice, To scratch me or play me is entirely your choice. I am broken when athletes achieve something grand, Yet I safely spin music inside of your hand. What am I?