In my recent dollar bin shopping spree at Amoeba, I finally got around to picking up Donald Fagen’s post-Steely Dan solo debut, The Nightfly. It’s very typical Fagen — jazzy, sardonic, nerdy, and wonderfully creative all at the same time. I remember the first single, “IGY (What a Beautiful World)” being played a bit on the radio, but the second single, “New Frontier”, was the one had the video on MTV and became the memorable hit.
I loved the use of animation in this video, multiple styles used to show multiple facets of the song itself: the (then modern) computer graphics to show the futuristic layout of new housing developments; the early Vogue ads and the Picasso paintings come to life; Soviet propaganda hinting at the impending Cold War. And my two favorite bits of animation: the cowboy-hatted, pistol-packing general marching around and shooting at rogue Commie nukes (a distinct nod to the old UPA films), and the bendy, lo-fi-but-cool jazz band.
[That last one had a particular effect on me; a few years later when I went through my jazz phase in the mid-80s, I would often visualize this particular image while listening to it late at night on my headphones.]
[Also, a quick bit of interesting trivia: the directors of this video, Annabel Jenkel and Rocky Morton, also directly my other favorite animated video, Elvis Costello’s “Accidents Will Happen.” Furthermore, they’re the co-creators of the Max Headroom franchise, and also co-directed the Super Mario Bros movie.]
I was listening to this track the other day and thinking about the sounds of the radio, pre-1989, before the end of the Cold War and the fall of the Berlin Wall. Growing up in the 70s and 80s, we all listened to the popular sounds and were aware of the possible political threats out there. Some of us kept it separate, some of us mixed the two Amnesty International-style.
We weren’t oblivious or ignorant of world issues out there; we just chose not to be completely frightened or doom-laden about it (Prince’s “1999” comes to mind, for instance). We’d gotten so used to the elephant in the room that we just treated it as part of the furniture, and felt reasonably sure that in its advanced age and sedentariness, it probably wasn’t going to act up any time soon. Our reaction to the fall of the Berlin Wall and the dissolution of the USSR wasn’t so much a patriotic whoop of victory as a sigh of happy relief that it had finally gone away.
I’m still getting used to that. I’m so used to getting my new release emails from AllMusic and elsewhere on Mondays that it seems strange getting them midweek now.
This month signaled the global change of new music release dates to Fridays. Per Billboard, it’s been Tuesday in the US since April 1989 (coincidentally, my next-to-last month of high school life and right about the time I really started paying closer attention to album releases for my beloved college music). Before that, Mondays were the default release day for years. It was moved in ’89 due to the fact that most retailers were not receiving their product until later in the day, thus losing most of their first-day sales. Moving the release date one day leveled the playing fields.
I’m a bit surprised that this is a global thing; it wasn’t just the US moving the standard drop date, but labels and distributors worldwide, finally aligning. That’s pretty big news, considering the UK has always been Monday (the start of the retail week, natch) and other countries have had similar setups.
I’ll be honest, I loved working Mondays when I was at HMV. That meant that I got to unpack all the new titles and slap security tags, price tags, and sale stickers on them, all while listening to them a day before everyone else. I discovered way too many great albums that way, and it’s part of the reason my music collection is so ridiculously large. But back then it was also perfect for when I was on the sales floor, as I could upsell new titles to customers and back it up with actual listening.
Nowadays, (again per Billboard), in this digital age, more active fans and listeners prefer listening to new titles on Fridays and Saturdays, and would rather not have to wait that extra day or so in their own country for a title to drop. Granted, it’s gotten a mixed reaction from some of the labels and distributors — some feel this will continue to let the majors to oversaturate the stores, leaving the indies in the lurch — and that’s frustrating yet understandable, given that that’s been pretty much the norm for decades anyway.
I imagine this would have come in handy during my years at Yankee Candle, when I’d get paid at the end of the week and would have to wait four or five days before I could do my music shopping. Then again, I most likely would have been in much deeper financial straits in the process. So it’s a toss-up there. Still, I’m curious if we’ll see an uptick in sales, given that some of us still get paid just before the weekend.
How do I feel about this now, though? Well, I’ll admit I didn’t notice the change right away, at least not until I looked at my shopping list and saw all the new stuff this week with the drop date of 7/10. [Yes, I have a shopping list. It’s a spreadsheet, showing prices from multiple purchase sites. I am such a sad and pathetic man.] [On the plus side, said spreadsheet comes in mighty handy because I can access it via Dropbox on my phone while I’m at Amoeba!] [ANYWAY] I suppose this makes things a bit more exciting if I happen to be heading towards a brick and mortar shop, because it’ll be something to look forward to on the weekend, which is when we usually head over to the Haight for anything in particular.
It’s too early for me to say how I feel about it, but I’m pretty sure I’ll be totally fine with it. As a good portion of my purchases are downloads nowadays, I think it’s something I’ll have to get used to. For a good few years there, I had a solid schedule of checking out all the new release streams on Monday so I would know what to expect the next day…now I have more time to do that. I follow a number of music blogs on Twitter, and they’re more than happy to let us all know when something new is streaming.
I’ll just have to learn to start saving up for Fridays then.
It was 28 years ago today that The Cure’s Kiss Me, Kiss Me, Kiss Me was released, and of course I’ve got it playing on my PC while I’m writing this up.
The Cure’s release history up to that date in the US was quite scattershot in the mid-80s…multiple labels over the course of four years (Boys Don’t Cry on PVC, Happily Ever After and Pornography on A&M, the 1982-83 singles and The Top on Sire). It wasn’t until 1985’s much poppier and upbeat The Head on the Door showed a new and invigorated band, and their new label Elektra made sure they didn’t falter. The 1986 singles compilation Standing on a Beach only served to push their status ever higher, and by the time Kiss Me (or “Kiss Me Cubed” as my friends and I used to call it) came out, America had finally taken notice.
This sprawling yet exciting double album came out at the same time I was asserting my individualism as a teenager. A new circle of friends, a burgeoning record collection full of newly-found college rock, and a fresh coat of not giving a fuck anymore of what other kids thought of me. I’d gone to see them with my sister and a friend that August in Worcester, and came back with a concert tee with Robert Smith’s pasty, lipsticked mug on the front and the lyrics to “Hot Hot Hot!!!” on the back. I practically wore that shirt out in the ensuing months. I certainly got a lot of guff from both kids and teachers, but I didn’t care. This was the new me. Forget fitting in, time to figure out who I was.
Kiss Me was indeed a sprawling album, but like Standing on a Beach it got a hell of a lot of play on my tape players. I was a huge Cure fan by that time, and thanks to Elektra buying out the old contracts, their early releases were finally much easier to find. I listened to them all on heavy rotation whenever and wherever I could. I even predicted that “Just Like Heaven” would end up being one of their next (and best, and most famous) singles, and I was not proven wrong.
My friends and I would occasionally take road trips down to Amherst and Northampton to hang out at the record stores, and during the fall of 1987 and into 1988 this album would often be playing. [This was back in the days before most of our parents’ cars had tape decks, so one of us, usually me, would lug along a boombox and have it playing in the back seat. During one memorable trip when this was playing, the drinking of many sodas that evening came to its expected fruition and I urged they pulled over. As I’m running into the woods, they pulled away, leaving me completely alone. Returning a few minutes later, they saw me on the side of the road, running after them, and slammed on the breaks, causing my radio to crash to the car’s floor in a thump! loud enough that I heard it from fifty yards away.] To this day I still think of the winding Daniel Shays Highway and the back roads of Shutesbury when I listen to this album.
Compared to their earlier, darker albums of the early 80s and the intense frailty of Disintegration just a few years later, this album seems is so much more energetic, even a bit psychedelic. It kind of reminds me of Prince’s Sign ‘o’ the Times, which had come out almost exactly two months earlier; it’s a beefy double album full of multiple and quite different genres, but it’s also a crowning achievement where nearly all the tracks are memorable, wonderfully produced, and leaves little to no room for boredom. But also like Prince’s album, Kiss Me was a departure from their earlier albums, where they chose to break down the barriers, both creative and personal, to record something they would be proud of. I kind of think The Head on the Door was a practice run, Standing on the Beach was the fanbase test, and this was the first official run; it would culminate of course with Disintegration. It’s of no surprise that this was also the era of one of their best band line-ups, with Simon Gallup on bass, Porl Thompson on guitar, Lol Tolhurst on keyboards and Boris Williams on drums. This particular quintet remains one of the strongest versions of the band for many older fans, as their sound was amazingly tight and inventive.
Last week on the KSCU radio show The 80s Underground (podcast here), the DJ decided to play songs from the Top 25 albums of 1988 per a readers’ poll at the great college rock-themed blog Slicing Up Eyeballs. And you know me, I couldn’t resist. I just had to listen in.
Interestingly enough, hearing my favorite college rock year outside of the normal context (read: my ridiculously large mp3 collection) kind of put things in a different perspective. I purposely didn’t look up the poll they’d done a year or so ago (which I of course took part in), so I was pleasantly entertained by not exactly knowing which song would come next. It was a little jump back in time to my years listening to WAMH.
Back then, I used to have a lot of life soundtracks. Certain albums or compilation tapes I’d listen to during certain times of the day, or certain radio stations and shows. I often do the same thing while I’m writing; lately I’ve been listening to Beck’s Sea Change and Morning Phase during my Spare Oom couch sessions.
Thing is, I don’t have nearly as many of these as I once did, and I suppose in a way that’s a good thing. I always have the radio or some music going during the work day, but I’ve long past grown out of attempting to forge a mood from the music being played. I now listen to KSCU (a college station) as much as I listen to Radio BDC (an internet station) or KFOG and Live 105 (terrestrial stations).
Do I miss those days, giving myself a soundtrack as if I were the living embodiment of a Miami Vice or a Grey’s Anatomy episode? Well, not really. I just grew out of attempting to find the perfect sound to complement whatever I was doing. It had gotten to the point where I was forcing the mood, and that’s no fun. I’m still an active listener, mind you–certain songs will hit me just the right way and I’ll pounce all over them, like I did with that TV On the Radio track a few months back.
Life soundtracks are more of a passive thing now. I let them pop up organically, by serendipity. Just like life itself–sometimes it’s more fun to see what life (or in this case, a radio station) throws at you rather than trying to pigeonhole it into something it’s not.
As you’ve probably figured out (or remembered from last year’s LJ missive), I’ve decided to give Record Store Day a pass from here on in, as it’s pretty much become the antithesis of what I feel about record stores. I bring this up because it’s about that time of year, and the online music blogs are starting to talk about it again.
Back in the late 00’s, RSD was conceived as a way to celebrate the then-struggling record industry, a day for everyone to head over to their local shop, peruse the aisles and come home with some nifty deals and some sweet music. I was on board for that, considering my own spending habits. [Hell, just recently I was going through some old bank paperwork and found my checkbook register from 2003-4 — the number of times I hit Newbury Comics during that time was astounding.] You can still find my 2008 comment in the Public Quotes section of the website (I’m the third quote down here).
Nowadays, I feel this celebration is less about remembering how cool record stores are, and more about that really cool collector’s edition 7″ (only 1000 printed!) of songs I have already but DUDE IT’S RED VINYL. Really, I’m not kidding — check out the ‘special releases’ for this year. And that’s just the US listing…other participating countries have even more, sometimes bigger lists. Not to mention that it’s no secret that many of these end up on eBay at inflated prices before the sun goes down.
Now, I really hate to be cynical about this, I really do. But last year when I went over to Amoeba to enjoy perusing the bins like I always do, I realized there was no way in hell I’d be able to do so. The reason was that many of the outer aisles were blocked by an insanely long line of about four hundred people, arms full to bursting with the same collector’s edition purchases and not a single item from the bins. Others not in line were blocking the inner aisles, chatting away and comparing collector’s edition finds and other rarities they’d found over the years. I gave it about twenty minutes before I walked out of the store, pissed off and emptyhanded.
I never do that. Not at a record store. I’ll at least have one or two items in hand when I leave.
SO. I submit this: Any day can be Record Store Day if you want it.
Heading to the local shop shouldn’t just be about getting the collector’s edition…not that I’m dismissing those, but I’m of the mind that music shopping isn’t just about getting that rare item. It’s about finding that cd in the dollar bin that you’d completely forgotten about for a decade or so, with all the memories of that release flooding back to you from out of nowhere. It’s about seeing what’s hot and what’s not. It’s about putting those beat-up headphones over your ears to sample a few songs before you buy. It’s about finding a nifty present for your sister or your husband or your mom or whoever. It’s even about buying that tee-shirt of that band you’ve just fallen in love with.
And you can do that any time. Hell, even if you don’t have a local record store you can get to (which, in all honesty needs to be rectified STAT!), head to the band’s or the label’s website and order the cd direct. Donate to a PledgeMusic or a Kickstarter or a Patreon event, watch the band in the process of recording that album, and get a copy in your hands when it’s all done. Check out some of the great no-label indie releases on BandCamp. There’s a shitload of great sounds out there, if you’re willing to search for them.
Because really–it’s about the bands, when you get down to it. The record store is where they sell their wares. It’s where you’ll find what you want and need. And you can do that any day of the week.
I know, I know…I promised I’d try to make this an ongoing series of posts, but alas, it’s kind of hard to review albums when the first quarter is more often than not a barren wasteland.
Okay, maybe not exactly a wasteland. Just that the January-March season is often the slowest in the music world. I’ve heard many and varied reasons as to why, and each of them kinda sorta make sense, so I won’t bore you with that little distraction.
I won’t bore you with a distraction about my thoughts on the Global Release Day idea that’s been in the news day. To be honest, I don’t have many thoughts on that anyway…the old Tuesday release in the US was basically to keep sales fair, but the internet has pretty much changed that on multiple levels, what with rush/surprise releases, instant reveals, single track offerings, and so on. It’s a new zoo out there now.
Besides, over the last few weeks we’ve seen some pretty tasty platters drop!
I equate these two with my stay at Emerson College in Boston…the first one released as I was starting my sophomore year, the second when I was about to graduate. A phenomenal band with a sadly short lifespan, Jellyfish popped up in late summer 1990 with their first album and an excellent Beatles-meets-Nuggets track called “The King is Half-Undressed”. Bellybutton was a creative mix of equal parts XTC, Queen, 60s pop, and 90s Gen-X ennui. The band itself had a stellar line-up: lyricist/singer/drummer Andy Sturmer (who would later work with Puffy AmiYumi and many other alt-pop bands), Jason Falkner (just out of the last 80s version of the Three O’Clock and later a respected solo performer), and Manning brothers Chris and Roger Jr (the latter would be a session keyboardist for everyone from Beck to Angels and Airwaves). Jason and Chris would depart after the first album and tour and be replaced by two other session musicians. They released one further album then went their separate ways.
For those curious, Bellybutton is the easier of the two to get into, as many of the songs are bright and very melodic with a hint of 60s and 70s pop nostalgia. Spilt Milk is a different beast altogether…the alternapop sound is still there, but the sound is a lot darker and denser. The two albums were recently reissued with a ridiculous amount of extra tracks and fascinating liner notes from the band members. They’ve also been remastered for the first time since their initial releases, so the sound is crisp, clear and strong.
I first heard of Black Rivers late last year while listening to RadioBDC. I’d missed the introduction but thought…wow, that really sounds like Jez from Doves. Lo and behold, it was! Fellow Dove Jimi Goodwin had released a solo album last year, but I hadn’t known the other guys would start their own side project as well, so it was a pleasant surprise to hear this track. And you can definitely tell this is Jez and Andy Williams’ work…whereas Jimi’s is more pastoral and perhaps reminiscent of Elbow, Jez and Andy’s songs have more pop to them, more eccentricities.
Black Rivers is a much darker affair than the Doves’ canon, its lyrics (and videos) hinting at a more science fictional setting, perhaps a space opera of sorts. They’re songs about loneliness in travel and in distances. And in an unexpected but welcome twist, Andy and Jez perhaps hint at their pre-Doves past as part of electronic band Sub Sub–there are dark, swelling keyboards here that evoke early Thomas Dolby or the metronomic twitterings of Kraftwerk.
I’m not gonna lie, I’m still an Oasis fan. Some people can’t stand them, others think the only good thing they ever released was Definitely Maybe. I’ve been a fan since “Live Forever”, even despite the fact that neither Gallagher brother owns a great singing voice. Liam’s was always nasal and snarky, and Noel’s was kind of lifeless and just that tiny bit out of tune. Post-breakup, I gravitated more towards Liam’s Beady Eye project (read: late-era Oasis minus Noel) and felt Noel’s HFB project was promising, but hadn’t quite made it yet.
Three and a half years later, however, Chasing Yesterday ends up being a solid winner and an excellent album, even more memorable than either Beady Eye album. He’s returned to his biggest strength — his solid songwriting skills — and he’s written some phenomenal tracks such as the singles “In the Heat of the Moment” and “The Ballad of the Mighty I”. Musically he’s got a much stronger band here that hints at the more mature Heathen Chemistry era sound of Oasis (my favorite album of theirs), letting the music stretch its muscles and reach new points. There’s even a bit of Pink Floyd-y prog going on with a few tracks, which actually works to his advantage.
All told, one of my favorite albums of the year so far.
There are but a handful of bands and musicians where I will buy their album, regardless as to whether I’ve heard a track from it or not. Porcupine Tree is one of them, and PT’s singer Steven Wilson is another. A phenomenal guitarist and songwriter, he puts out beautifully crafted music just this side of prog rock (a label he himself dismisses, as his and PT’s sound does vary wildly from prog to metal to folk balladry).
Hand. Cannot. Erase. is a song cycle inspired by a movie called Dreams of a Life, itself a documentary about Joyce Carol Vincent, a British woman who had died of natural causes in her apartment in 2003 and had not been found until three years later. Like the movie, the album focuses on a woman and her relationships with friends and family, personal and emotional distances, and how, despite how close one can be to family and friends, the connections are often more tenuous than people are willing to believe.
Wilson’s last few solo albums have all been excellent and strong, but often straying into different genres (his last few were more on the jazzy side), but HCE is almost a return to the forms he’s best known for. The widescreen sounds of earlier prog-oriented PT (such as on 1999’s Stupid Dream or 2000’s Lightbulb Sun) make a welcome return here, though there are also hints of tighter, harder-edged intensity (such as from 2002’s In Absentia) as well. Despite the dark theme, it’s filled with gorgeous sounds that you can get lost in.
I’m pretty sure this one’s going to end up on my writing session playlist this year.
So I found out the other day that one of my favorite bands of the late 80s, The Church, is going to be doing an in-store appearance at Amoeba here in San Francisco. Most of you already know that their 1988 song “Under the Milky Way” is my favorite song of all time, so this little meet and greet is somewhat of a big thing for me. If they play it live (I’d be surprised if they didn’t, considering it’s one of their signature songs), I’ll be absolutely over the moon. I already have their new album, Further Deeper, which I downloaded straight from their site late last year, but I may just buy it again to get it signed. I’m that much of a fan.
Meeting a favorite band or music is always an interesting experience. I went to one or two in-stores back in my college days, but it wasn’t until I started working at HMV that I was able to get on the list, stick around and meet the band after local shows. I’ve gone to a few signings here in SF as well. The guys from Travis are all wonderful, very friendly Glaswegians, and I had a really good long chat about recording and bass playing with their bassist Dougie. The guys from the Verve Pipe were reserved but very nice guys (and Brian Van der Ark really is that tall!). Karl Wallinger of World Party is a lovely guy and was absolutely tickled to see people there. Then there’s the George Harrison moment, of course–the one time I was actually shaking afterwards. There were a few others I’ve met, where they hid behind a bottle or a few beers, or where they felt just as uncomfortable as I did at that moment…those sometimes happen as well.
One of my favorite things about meeting my favorite musicians, especially once I got over being starstruck, is that they’re all the same as us fans. They’re just regular people who are amused, maybe even a little bemused, that they have this kind of following. Sometimes you can talk to them on Twitter or Facebook like you do your buddies, sometimes you’ll get to know them well. Maybe not as close friends, but as acquaintances. Your job is pushing paper, their job is writing songs and touring. But the human interaction is the same.
It’s one of the many joys of being a music fan for me. I don’t demand anything of them, though I may ask for an autograph if they’re willing. But I truly enjoy meeting them face to face, and thanking them for doing what they do, letting them know I love their art.
[Hi there, and welcome to what will hopefully be an ongoing series here at Walk in Silence! My aim here is mainly to give a bit of an overview of albums that cross my path–some will be new releases, some may be ‘why didn’t I buy this earlier’ albums, some will be ‘where did this come from’ albums. It’ll be a mix. They may be short blurbs, they may be dissertations. I’m also aiming not to be *that* music journo who only likes Pavement and anything sounding remotely like them, or what have you. My tastes vary wildly, and I’m really not one to hate-listen to something, because I’d only be wasting my time and yours. I like what I like, and what I like I want to foist upon everyone as Really Cool Stuff to listen to. Hope you enjoy!]
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I became one of those people who buys things on the drop date around 1996 when I started working at HMV. Before that, I did have my moments of “Ooh! I need to have that album!” but due to my funds or lack thereof, I rarely picked up titles on their release day. That all changed when I got that job at the record store. My position was the lone shipper/receiver in the back room, so every single bit of stock that came into the store went through me first, where I would enter it into the system, slap a price sticker on it, and send it on its merry way to the sales floor. The register jockeys were the ones with the job of slapping the security clamshells on them, where many a finger was pinched in the process. And if I could in get a sneak preview listen, I would most definitely do so.
I got into the habit of checking out the new releases as they came into the store (we’d get them on Monday so we’d have them ready for sale on Tuesday). It was partly so I’d be knowledgeable for when customers asked, but also because I liked checking out new bands. By the time I left that job in the autumn of 2000, I realized two things: I was deep into the drop-date habit, and I now had to quickly find a new fix. That was soon found in the Newbury Comics store down in Amherst, where I soon became quite the regular. And now in the age of the internets? I read multiple music blogs and magazines, and frequent various new album stream sites to check out what I want to purchase.
It’s actually kind of fun to preview new albums, and I get where the excitement come from. Nowadays bands can go up to three or four years or more between albums, so you’re eager and curious to find out what their new stuff sounds like. Or you’ve heard all the hype from the magazines and the blogs about This Awesome New Album and want to see what it’s all about. Or just that your favorite band in the world just dropped a new platter and you can’t wait to get your mitts all over it. It’s fun, and it’s entertainment. Naught wrong with that.
This Welsh band was one of maybe a dozen or so groups I found via the NoiseTrade free music website, where they released a four song sampler around the same time the single “Kathleen” was released in the UK. It finally dropped last week here in the States, and it’s worth the wait. It kind of reminds me of the jangly guitar bands like Gaslight Anthem, tight and crunchy and maybe even with a tiny touch of country to it. [Props for using the word ‘sympatico’ in the first line of “Kathleen”. Always a good sign when songwriters get nerdy with their lyrics!] I’ll have to listen a little closer to this one to let some of the songs stick, but I don’t think that’ll be a worry–these are catchy, well-written and well-played tracks that are worth checking out.
I’ve always liked Guster…they’re your favorite quirky band that doesn’t quite fit into any specific description–the weirdness of “Airport Song” is different from the poppy-but-offkilter “Barrel of a Gun”, and so on. With Evermotion they’ve maintained the oddness, but they’ve also become less acoustic and organic and more electronic. The new single “Simple Machine” is damn addictive; it’s got that OK Go-style bounciness and fun. They still retain some of their acoustic sound here, but the music feels more wired, maybe a bit twitchier and full of nervous energy. It’s a new direction for them, but it fits them quite nicely.
I admit there’s a stretch there between 2006 and 2009 where I actually didn’t pay that much attention to new music. Part of it was that we were too busy settling in to completely new surroundings (having moved from the northeast to California), and another part was that a lot of the sounds from that time just weren’t quite jiving with me. They weren’t bad…they just didn’t sing to me. The latter could probably date further back to maybe 2001 or 2002, when I started seeing the next wave of indie bands going against the commercial grain. Some worked for me, some didn’t. Animal Collective was one of them. I totally admit that I didn’t quite grok Panda Bear (AC’s singer) until he guested on Daft Punk’s Random Access Memories. By then I was making up for lost time and catching up on those bands I missed out on. That said…Panda Bear’s newest contains the usual oddness in sound and melody, but I now get what he’s trying to do with the songs. I’m fascinated by what he’s doing with the vocals on these songs, sort of a layered one-man overdubbed chorus that treats itself like another instrument. This’ll definitely take some time for it to cement itself in my brain, but I definitely like what I’ve heard so far.
Yup, got this one simply because of the buzz that’s been generating. Threw it on with barely a pre-purchase sampling, and was instantly transported to my preteen youth. Right now it’s 1977 and I’m wearing brown corduroys and an Ernie-like stripey shirt, hearing “Summer Breaking” on the crackly AM car radio on the way up to Keene. “Uptown Funk” and it’s now 1981 and I’m hearing Prince for the first time. “Daffodils” and I’m watching one of those pre-Solid Gold variety TV shows, watching the band play in all their bellbottomed glory. “In Case of Fire” and I’m hearing Wings on the family stereo. In short: I love it when an album that’s meant to evoke a retro feel, does so flawlessly. Well worth the buzz.
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As always, January’s releases are often few and far between, but already we have a few strong contenders, so I’m happy. There promises to be a lot of excellent new titles coming out in the near future (The Decemberists, Steven Wilson, Noel Gallagher’s High Flying Birds and Black Rivers to name a few), so this promises to be an interesting first quarter!
This past weekend A. and I headed over to the Haight to stop at Amoeba Records. Her motive for going there has been to search for older Doctor Who serials and other BBC television series, while mine (as always) has been to scour the bins for music.
This time out I was looking for albums by Sinéad O’Connor and Saint Etienne to bulk up my collection, and I knew I’d find both in the dusty dollar bins hidden way in the back western quadrant of the giant store. I wasn’t let down, either–I found three of O’Connor’s albums I needed (a fourth was found used in her regular bin for $7), and I found a lot more Saint Etienne than expected (plus grabbed two further albums for $4 each in their regular bin). Further browsing in the store brought up a few more ‘why do I not have this yet?’ albums. All told, I must have spent about $30 on 14 cds, which is not bad at all.
I have two days off surrounding my birthday in a few weeks. There’s a good chance I may head there for a second round.
I’m a sucker for dollar bins, I’ll be the first to admit it. I don’t mind if the jewel case is scuffed up or slightly cracked, or if the cd is a bit worn–as long as it sounds good. It’s about the music for me. I’m well-versed in digging for gold in these bins, and I have no problem with spending a good two or three hours getting dirty and dusty doing it. Back in my nearly-broke days in early 90s Boston, I was a regular at Nuggets, Planet, In Your Ear and Looney Tunes, and back then my finds were all cassettes and albums. I could buy a dozen full length albums for less than twenty dollars. And in the late 90s and early 00s, I’d continue to make monthly runs to Boston to find sweet deals. My record collection was age-worn and scratchy, but it was also damned huge and well-rounded.
Here’s the trick: the dollar bins are often full of albums that are at least ten to twenty years old, so if you’re in need of that classic album from 1993 that you never got around to buying, chances are it’s in there, the original versions given away now that their former owner ripped them to their computer or bought the remastered-with-extra-tracks editions. This was the same when I used to do the Boston runs: in the early 90s, I could easily build up my 70s classic rock collection; in the late 90s it was the 80s pop; in the 00s it was all the Britpop I was too broke to buy first time out.
At this point I’m realizing things have come full circle, as I’m now finding all the albums from my tenure at HMV in the late 90s. I see titles I once owned either as promo copies or bought at a discount, but I also see many that I’d completely forgotten existed. On multiple occasions I’ve pulled out a cd and stared at it for a second, that memory connection suddenly refreshed and clear. And they’d get dropped into my basket.
Yeah, I’m well aware that dollar bin diving is pretty much a lost art now, considering the current state of music downloading, streaming and sharing, but think of it this way–that copy of Boston that you used to have on vinyl and never got around to picking up on cd? You could either download it from Amazon or iTunes for the midline price it usually goes for (as of this writing it’s one of Amazon’s monthly $5 titles)…or you could buy the dollar bin copy for $1.99. If you’re a compulsive music collector like I am, this was, is, and shall always be one of your favorite sections in the store.
[Okay, I’ll add this as well: I’m not out to cheat the musician, far from it. I know they don’t get diddly from used sales, obviously. My point here is Buying On a Budget, whether you’re a completist and buy in bulk like me, or have limited cash flow. By all means, if you have the funds to pay the bands, please do so, and they will thank you. And they’ll be able to stay together and record more neat stuff for your waiting ears.]
So this April, when you’re heading to whatever shop for Record Store Day, spend a little more time than that ten minutes grabbing your RSD Collectible goodies and that hour waiting in line to pay for them. Spend more time in the regular bins, reacquainting yourself with your favorite bands and others you’ve never quite gotten around to listening to. And spend a good three or four hours in those dusty dollar bins (and provide your own Wet-Naps). You’ll be surprised what you might find.
Hey all! Didn’t expect to see three entries in two days from me, did you? Well, I can’t promise that’ll be the norm from here on in, but this year I’m planning on being more consistent with my blogging. Starting today, you should be seeing an entry from me by each Thursday of the month, talking about my favorite subject: music.
I’ll be hitting on things such as new and current releases and reissues, as well as hitting on older albums and bands I’d like to talk about. I’d also like to expand on the genres too, as a change of pace. I don’t have too many concrete plans for this other than reviews, so I’m as curious as you are to see where this leads.
Also, in other news…
I’m proud to announce that I have not one but two self-published projects I’m planning on releasing into the world sometime this year as well! I’m thinking epub at this point, although print could be involved, depending on which self-publishing company I end up working with to produce and release it. These are two projects I’ve been working on over the last few years; one is complete and the other is about three-quarters of the way done.
The first will be a book version of Blogging the Beatles, the series I started here a while back, in which I listened and talked about the Beatles’ discography in chronological release order. I had so much fun writing it, and learned so much musically as I studied the songs, that I felt it would be perfect for an ebook. I’ll be revising it and adding new items as I do so, and hope to have this one out at least by midyear.
The second will be Walk in Silence itself. This one’s the biggie. I’m about three quarters of the way done on the more personal side of the story, with revision number two to add in more about the music. This one may roll into 2016 if other issues pop up, but the aim is to get it out into the wild by autumn 2015.
Of course, releasing books about popular music could be tricky considering the rights involved, but since I’m not directly quoting the music but only commenting on it, I think I should be okay. These are both books focusing on my love of music, in particular about a band and a genre that inspired me and shaped who I am.
Walk In Silence 