On paper, I kinda dicked around this weekend, but only on paper.
I finished a book review (Nick Hornby's fourth collection of Believer columns, More Baths Less Talking) and I had every intention of working my way through Michael Chabon's new novel, Telegraph Avenue. I'll get to it when I get to it, which means later today or first thing tomorrow. I had lunch with my son on Sunday, then ran an errand for my daughter. I did this in a hot car with no air.
What I did on Saturday was browse for records, which is exactly what I needed to do.
Remember last Sunday, when I picked up this swell record by the Liverpool Five? I spotted their name and noticed the cover of
"(I'm Not Your) Steppin' Stone" and figured it was worth my time and trade credit.
But it's their cover of Curtis Mayfield's "Sister Love" (recorded by The Impressions) that I cannot get out of my head and ears.
I also picked up this Everly Brothers' collection from Cadence Records. I usually throw on a record while I'm making dinner or cleaning up afterwards.
This copy was especially clean, and I have no complaints other than the fact that some of my favorite Everly tunes were recorded for Warner Bros.
Last week was a particularly good haul, but I did well this weekend, too.
My first stop brought this Hollies album (in mono, no less). I have several Hollies collections on cd, but this is exactly the sort of thing I look for in the vinyl bins.
Same story with the Everly Brothers.
I've heard their music a million times, now I want the vinyl. And not the $20 vinyl reissues, that's too fancypants for me. I want a nice used copy with liner notes for $3.
I have a great and longstanding appreciation of The Rutles. This 12" single was in the dollar bin, an act of aggression that cannot and should not stand. Not so long as I have a dollar, anyway. It's on yellow vinyl and has the craziest scratch I've ever seen.
Crazier, still? It played through perfectly without a pop. Needless to say, I must be in love.
I clearly don't know everything, that's how much I know. I'm a terrific fan of Clint Mansell's soundtrack work for Darren Aronofsky, but I'm going to come clean and admit I've never owned any music by his old band, Pop Will Eat Itself.
Box Frenzy, their debut album, was $4. I mulled it over, refiled the record under "Misc. P", and swung by the next day to purchase it. I'm still digesting Side One.
I made one final stop on Saturday. This was a place I'd been to before, an antique shop where I purchased an old record console. Before I left, I noticed a backroom piled high with records. I went back on Saturday and quickly discovered the record room has no air-conditioning. Well, what do you know? A cheap sonofabitch, just like me.
I browsed for as long as I could, but there was an annoying fan blowing dust and hot air in my face as I went through the bins.
I pulled Jackie Wilson's Lonely Teardrops right off the display wall, but this copy of A Date With The Everly Brothers took considerably more digging. Neither record had a price tag, but I noticed all the records were supposedly 30% off. Most of the records were marked $2.99 - $5.99, so I wasn't terribly concerned. After I'd endured all I could, I went up to the register and handed the cashier my records. She agreed the records were not priced, and let me have them for $1.50 each. Plus the discount.
I went home and put on Side Two of A Date With The Everly Brothers while I made a call. I was waiting patiently for "Cathy's Clown," but could not get past the melancholy harmonies of "Love Hurts."
Goddamn it, Phil and Don. Love hurts.