It's been a while since I've posted recent acquisitions. The report from the field is the continuing change of the record-buying demographic. The kids have us middle-aged guys out-numbered, at least in the Bay Area record shops. What is most encouraging among the kids there are an equal number of gals as guys buying records. Among my own age group, it's probably 98 percent guys. So, what are the kids buying? Of course, current bands, who are releasing albums on vinyl as a matter of course. But the kids are also raiding the classic rock bins. On my last trip to Amoeba, the Pink Floyd bin was empty! I had never seen it empty before. The Led Zeppelin section was almost empty as well. Common albums by classic rock bands that sold for $5 five or ten years ago are now fetching $15-20. Fortunately, rocky is stocked up on his classic rock LPs, and in search of more exotic fare.
Here's rocky's haul from the past couple weeks:
Mark Murphy, Stolen Moments (Muse, $2). Mark Murphy is the coolest jazz singer most non-jazz listeners have never heard of. That's because he's a true bop jazz singer, with all the characteristics of jazz artists that turn off the general public. He's no Frank Sinatra or Diana Krall. That's a shame, because more people should listen to Mark Murphy. He really lifts me up. This album recorded in the 1978 is among his best, as good as his classic albums from the 60s. For the title track, Murphy wrote lyrics to the jazz standard composed by Oliver Nelson.
Beck, Odelay (ORG, 4-LP deluxe limited edition, $10). This was released by an audiophile label a few years ago. I almost bought it last year when it was on sale for $50, but decided not to since I had two copies of the original pressing. I wasn't sure getting the bonus tracks was worth half a Benjamin. Well, I was kicking myself when it went out of print and the set was selling for $150 on ebay. Finding this near mint copy for $10 was a true act of divine intervention on the part of the vinyl gods. Had I know how good the bonus tracks sounded, I wouldn't have hesitated buying it for $50.
Dolly Parton, Coat of Many Colors (RCA original pressing, $5). This is about the hardest hitting album I've listened to in a while. Dolly sings about growing up poor, a mother cheating on her daughter, a woman in a twisted, abusive relationship, and other tales from the white ghetto. What a great album from a deceptively tough singer!
The Slits, Cut (Antilles original US pressing, $28). An album by an all-female band called the Slits with a cover featuring the band members topless with torsos covered in mud. It's got to be great, right? Yup.
The Feelies, Crazy Rhythms (Stiff Records original pressing, $28). I missed the boat on this classic album when it came out. One of the pop-rock best albums ever!
The Zombies, Odessey and Oracle (Date Records original US pressing, $29). I've always wanted to own an original pressing of this classic psychedelic album, but never came across a decent copy for less than $100. Can you say score? Score. Again. Score. I feel whole now.
Arcade Fire, Reflektor (Merge Records, $21). This album sounded promising--brainiac band releases dance-oriented album. I was thinking classic Talking Heads. It might be great album. But I can't fucking tell. The production and sound quality suck so much it makes me want to hurl.
Drake, Take Care (Cash Money Records, $17). The first LP is great with Drake mixing the usual rap braggadocio with actual tenderness that makes the whole more real. The second LP of this 2-LP album is rather pedestrian. Arcade Fire needs to take a lesson from Drake on how to put out good-sounding vinyl.
The Swans, The Seer (Young God Records, $25). I can't remember the last album that bore deep beneath me and stirred all sorts of primal emotions. It makes me want to strip off my clothes, cover my torso in mud and howl at the moon. It's music for the end of the world.
Sunday, January 26, 2014
Saturday, January 18, 2014
The Dionne Warwick Experience
I can't seem to get enough of the songs of Burt Bacharach and Hal David these days. The most prolific and one of the best interpreters of Bacharach-David songs is Dionne Warwick. I had a 2-lp record of Dionne Warwick singing Bacharach-David songs called Go With Love. It's a compilation album released by Columbia House for members of its record club. My copy played like, as vinyl listeners call it, Rice Krispies (i.e., "snap, crackle, and pop!"). I also had a lot of Warwick's proper albums released by the Scepter label in the 60s, each of which contained a handful of Bacharach-David songs. But the Scepter albums were poorly pressed on noisy vinyl and the sound quality was equally poor. So I was on the hunt for another compilation album of Warwick singing Bacharach. I thought I found it in the 2-LP The Dionne Warwick Story, her smiling face on the cover looking up at me from the dollar bin got me all excited. It had a great song list. But when I took it home and played it, it turned out to be a live album. Yuck. I wanted the studio versions.
Well, when you look hard enough, sometimes you find what you're looking for. Today I hit pay dirt when I came across another copy of Go With Love. That's not so unusual. What was amazing was the copy I found was still sealed. It was an album from probably the 70s that was, for all intents and purposes, brand new. It plays beautifully on quiet vinyl and with better sound quality than the Scepter albums. It's the best three dollars I've spent this year. That's my Dionne Warwick Experience. (Side note: I think The Dionne Warwick Experience would be a great name for a punk band. Okay, maybe not.)
Well, when you look hard enough, sometimes you find what you're looking for. Today I hit pay dirt when I came across another copy of Go With Love. That's not so unusual. What was amazing was the copy I found was still sealed. It was an album from probably the 70s that was, for all intents and purposes, brand new. It plays beautifully on quiet vinyl and with better sound quality than the Scepter albums. It's the best three dollars I've spent this year. That's my Dionne Warwick Experience. (Side note: I think The Dionne Warwick Experience would be a great name for a punk band. Okay, maybe not.)
Saturday, January 4, 2014
Golden Eagle Sunrise
Any hobby that gets you up at the crack of dawn is a good hobby. Because you see things around dawn that you don't see at any other time of day. The reason I woke so early on a Sunday morning was to get to the Newark record swap. To get there I take a scenic drive through the Niles Canyon, an other worldly spit of nature connecting the Amador-Livermore Valley with the San Francisco Bay. As I made my through the winding road, I spotted what appeared to be a large animal standing in the middle of the road, literally standing in between the two yellow lines dividing the travel lanes. When I got closer, I could see it wasn't a single animal, but a large bird standing atop an animal carcass. I slowed down and passed the dark honey-colored bird. I recognized it as a Golden Eagle. I knew because of the hours I spent as a young boy studying the pictures of eagles in the World Book Encyclopedia. In real life, the eagle was much larger that I ever imagined as a young boy. The eagle never took flight even as I got within five feet of it. It just calmly watched me pass by. That's how animals at the top of the food chain react.
That's what I remember from my trip to the record swap last month. I don't remember the records I picked up. I just have that picture of the majestic, grand eagle. Oh, I also remember thinking at the record swap that only short, old Asian men seem to collect classical albums. None over 5'-3" in height, which is about how tall the Golden Eagle stood atop the carcass.
That's what I remember from my trip to the record swap last month. I don't remember the records I picked up. I just have that picture of the majestic, grand eagle. Oh, I also remember thinking at the record swap that only short, old Asian men seem to collect classical albums. None over 5'-3" in height, which is about how tall the Golden Eagle stood atop the carcass.
Sunday, November 24, 2013
Interlude
Lately I've been listening to a lot of Belle and Sebastian and Morrissey. It's been an exercise in self-consciousness of sorts. I remember in college I posed with a copy of Bob Dylan's "Blood in the Tracks" for a photo, my roommate told me I was self-deluded. He was right in a way. The stories Dylan spins on the album couldn't be further from my own privileged, sheltered life. No, what really hits closer to home are B&S and, perhaps to a lesser degree, Morrissey.
Listening to Morrissey led me to seeking out a Timi Yuro album. There's a fantastic duet of Morrissey and Siouxsie Sioux singing "Interlude", which was originally sung by Yuro in the 60s. I found a copy of the Timi Yuro album yesterday ($1.95 what a bargain!). It's got to be one of the spookiest foreboding love songs ever recorded. No wonder Morrissey and Siouxsie chose to cover it.
Listening to Morrissey led me to seeking out a Timi Yuro album. There's a fantastic duet of Morrissey and Siouxsie Sioux singing "Interlude", which was originally sung by Yuro in the 60s. I found a copy of the Timi Yuro album yesterday ($1.95 what a bargain!). It's got to be one of the spookiest foreboding love songs ever recorded. No wonder Morrissey and Siouxsie chose to cover it.
Wednesday, November 20, 2013
Why I Hold on to Records
A few years ago I picked up Vic Chesnutt's North Star Deserter after listening to an interview with Chesnutt on Fresh Air. I listened to it once and shelved it. I just didn't get it. Last night I pulled it off the shelf and listened to it again a second time. My reaction was completely different this time around. I found the album deeply moving, powerful, and darkly humorous.
The history of music is littered with tragic stories of misfits, lost souls, and ill-fated characters. Even in this context, Chestnutt's life is particularly tragic. After a car accident left him paralyzed as a teenager, he tried to make the best of it as creative artist. He turned to poetry and music, but in the end he gave into the sad fate of life by taking his life. His struggles are plainly expressed in his songs. Sometimes you get it. Sometimes you don't.
Take this song for example. At times it strikes me as simply bad. At other times, it's deeply moving. I count a number of Chesnutt's songs as among those mercurial songs that seem to reflect the state of your soul.
The history of music is littered with tragic stories of misfits, lost souls, and ill-fated characters. Even in this context, Chestnutt's life is particularly tragic. After a car accident left him paralyzed as a teenager, he tried to make the best of it as creative artist. He turned to poetry and music, but in the end he gave into the sad fate of life by taking his life. His struggles are plainly expressed in his songs. Sometimes you get it. Sometimes you don't.
Take this song for example. At times it strikes me as simply bad. At other times, it's deeply moving. I count a number of Chesnutt's songs as among those mercurial songs that seem to reflect the state of your soul.
Sunday, October 27, 2013
Bob Dylan's Another Self Portrait
I've neglected this blog because recently I was under the mistaken belief that there were more important things in life than records.
During this period I wasn't inspired to pick up many records, perhaps two or three a month. I went on a small binge in the past week, which found eight new records in my collection. One is actually a boxed set, Another Self Portrait by Bob Dylan, Volume 10 of his Bootleg Series (a misleading title since these are official releases from Columbia). This is a compilation of 35 unreleased songs from 1969-1970, most of which were recorded for the Self Portrait album. As Dylan fans know, that album is the subject of probably the most famous opening line of a record review, penned by Greil Marcus, "What is this shit?" Well, it's a compilation of covers of traditional and obscure songs. And most of it is pretty shitty. So, the idea of a 3-lp box set of outtakes from that period didn't sound promising. I bought it anyway. Boy, I'm glad I did, because it's brilliant. What's confounding is that the best songs Dylan recorded never made it on to the album. What's clear is that Dylan's trash heap contains more treasures than the best work of 99.99 percent of musicians out there. Here we have Dylan basically curating and interpreting songs that he finds worth singing and recording. The lyrics are simpler and more straight-forward than his own elliptical songs, if not as poetic or sophisticated. Because of or despite this quality, the songs come across more personal. Contributing to the intimate quality of these outtakes are the spare arrangements, shorn of the overdubs of the songs that made it on the original album. Another Self Portrait goes to show that people who think Bob Dylan's talents lie in his songwriting are really short-changing his overall genius.
During this period I wasn't inspired to pick up many records, perhaps two or three a month. I went on a small binge in the past week, which found eight new records in my collection. One is actually a boxed set, Another Self Portrait by Bob Dylan, Volume 10 of his Bootleg Series (a misleading title since these are official releases from Columbia). This is a compilation of 35 unreleased songs from 1969-1970, most of which were recorded for the Self Portrait album. As Dylan fans know, that album is the subject of probably the most famous opening line of a record review, penned by Greil Marcus, "What is this shit?" Well, it's a compilation of covers of traditional and obscure songs. And most of it is pretty shitty. So, the idea of a 3-lp box set of outtakes from that period didn't sound promising. I bought it anyway. Boy, I'm glad I did, because it's brilliant. What's confounding is that the best songs Dylan recorded never made it on to the album. What's clear is that Dylan's trash heap contains more treasures than the best work of 99.99 percent of musicians out there. Here we have Dylan basically curating and interpreting songs that he finds worth singing and recording. The lyrics are simpler and more straight-forward than his own elliptical songs, if not as poetic or sophisticated. Because of or despite this quality, the songs come across more personal. Contributing to the intimate quality of these outtakes are the spare arrangements, shorn of the overdubs of the songs that made it on the original album. Another Self Portrait goes to show that people who think Bob Dylan's talents lie in his songwriting are really short-changing his overall genius.
Tuesday, March 26, 2013
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