Waving the white flag
Music for the moment: Cheap Trick, "Surrender" (outtake from the Heaven Tonight sessions)
I’ll admit to being more than a little distracted as of late. I’ve got 64 reasons to be this time of year. Plus, I’ve been sick, and on “vacation”--which always makes for an amusing pair of bedfellows. But, in general, I just haven’t felt inspired to write about music.
Being the finger-pointing type, I select my “Year Without Music” as the scapegoat. It has felt an awful lot like an ankle bracelet, which I guess means that Martha Stewart and I have something in common other than the towels hanging in my bathroom. Coming into this absurd New Year’s resolution, I thought that I would potentially experience a sense of freedom from my obsession, as if I could detach myself from my greed by simply waving a magic wand. But if anything, instituting such a rigid guideline has accomplished the exact opposite. I feel suffocated by my own desire, unable to shake the need to purchase new music from my thoughts. It’s a Catch-22: if I buy music, I feed the greed. If I don’t buy music, the greed only grows hungry and barks louder.
So, it’s over. Two-and-a-half months into 2005, and I surrender. Maybe all my friends are right about which Cheap Trick song is superior after all.
It never was much of a fast, if we’re speaking honestly. I purchased eight albums this year prior to the great “Year Without Music” crash of ‘05. Three with “cash money,” and five more thanks to credit earned from items sold online. I didn’t break the rules of my silly contract, that is until my trip to Bloomington, Indiana to see Jens Lekman. Bloomington presented me with a fresh challenge--an actual live, breathing record store. Champaign doesn’t have any of those. We have Record Swap, which sells only used vinyl and CDs (at extremely outrageous prices and with generally poor selection). And we have Parasol, which is a wonderful store but sells only new vinyl and CDs. Bloomington, however, has a real survivor in T.D.’s, a little hole-in-the-wall store in the basement of a coffee shop that isn’t much bigger than my bedroom. It stocks new and used vinyl and has a tasteful eye for the kind of music that I’m interested in--left-of-center rock music and eclectic contemporary music. It’s back catalogue is actually quite impressive, and I assume because Bloomington is a small town that it’s racks aren’t picked over like one often finds in a big city emporium. I passed on several new releases of interest and--given self-imposed time constraints--I didn’t have enough time to really scour the racks. But, I did find a few used items of note:
1. James Chance & the Contortions, Lost Chance on CD
2. Esquivel, Music from a Sparkling Planet on CD
3. The Cherry Valance, Riffin’ on LP (to replace my CD)
4. John Mayall, The Blues Alone on LP, and
5. The Monkees Greatest Hits on LP (to replace my severely beat-up copy)
I wouldn’t call it “the jackpot” by any stretch of the imagination. But, it was exhilarating nonetheless to be in a real record store for the first time in months, slap a couple twenties on the counter and walk out the door with a stash under my arm. Music is the one constant in my life--other than M--that keeps me happy. I was stupid to think that I could deprive myself of that joy and not suffer an intolerable loss. I live for such experiences: the thrill of the hunt, the agony of defeat and the occasional exhileration of the kill. I suppose that if I lived in a larger city I might find a trip to the record store to be more commonplace. But, I don’t. So this trip, considering the past two months, was like a cross-continent trek to the Wailing Wall.
As for my “Year Without Music,” I have no regrets that I gave it a go. I may never kick the habit, but hopefully I’ll be better off because of it, not worse off as a result of it. As author Thornton Wilder famously quipped: “Money is like manure; it’s not worth a thing unless it’s spread around encouraging young things to grow.”
So, grow record collection. Stand tall with sturdy knees and a firm backbone. I’m sorry that I neglected you all these weeks. And, dear blog, forgive my recent absence. It’s true that it only makes the heart grow fonder.
N/P–Vetiver’s self-titled album (more on that soon)
I’ll admit to being more than a little distracted as of late. I’ve got 64 reasons to be this time of year. Plus, I’ve been sick, and on “vacation”--which always makes for an amusing pair of bedfellows. But, in general, I just haven’t felt inspired to write about music.
Being the finger-pointing type, I select my “Year Without Music” as the scapegoat. It has felt an awful lot like an ankle bracelet, which I guess means that Martha Stewart and I have something in common other than the towels hanging in my bathroom. Coming into this absurd New Year’s resolution, I thought that I would potentially experience a sense of freedom from my obsession, as if I could detach myself from my greed by simply waving a magic wand. But if anything, instituting such a rigid guideline has accomplished the exact opposite. I feel suffocated by my own desire, unable to shake the need to purchase new music from my thoughts. It’s a Catch-22: if I buy music, I feed the greed. If I don’t buy music, the greed only grows hungry and barks louder.
So, it’s over. Two-and-a-half months into 2005, and I surrender. Maybe all my friends are right about which Cheap Trick song is superior after all.
It never was much of a fast, if we’re speaking honestly. I purchased eight albums this year prior to the great “Year Without Music” crash of ‘05. Three with “cash money,” and five more thanks to credit earned from items sold online. I didn’t break the rules of my silly contract, that is until my trip to Bloomington, Indiana to see Jens Lekman. Bloomington presented me with a fresh challenge--an actual live, breathing record store. Champaign doesn’t have any of those. We have Record Swap, which sells only used vinyl and CDs (at extremely outrageous prices and with generally poor selection). And we have Parasol, which is a wonderful store but sells only new vinyl and CDs. Bloomington, however, has a real survivor in T.D.’s, a little hole-in-the-wall store in the basement of a coffee shop that isn’t much bigger than my bedroom. It stocks new and used vinyl and has a tasteful eye for the kind of music that I’m interested in--left-of-center rock music and eclectic contemporary music. It’s back catalogue is actually quite impressive, and I assume because Bloomington is a small town that it’s racks aren’t picked over like one often finds in a big city emporium. I passed on several new releases of interest and--given self-imposed time constraints--I didn’t have enough time to really scour the racks. But, I did find a few used items of note:
1. James Chance & the Contortions, Lost Chance on CD
2. Esquivel, Music from a Sparkling Planet on CD
3. The Cherry Valance, Riffin’ on LP (to replace my CD)
4. John Mayall, The Blues Alone on LP, and
5. The Monkees Greatest Hits on LP (to replace my severely beat-up copy)
I wouldn’t call it “the jackpot” by any stretch of the imagination. But, it was exhilarating nonetheless to be in a real record store for the first time in months, slap a couple twenties on the counter and walk out the door with a stash under my arm. Music is the one constant in my life--other than M--that keeps me happy. I was stupid to think that I could deprive myself of that joy and not suffer an intolerable loss. I live for such experiences: the thrill of the hunt, the agony of defeat and the occasional exhileration of the kill. I suppose that if I lived in a larger city I might find a trip to the record store to be more commonplace. But, I don’t. So this trip, considering the past two months, was like a cross-continent trek to the Wailing Wall.
As for my “Year Without Music,” I have no regrets that I gave it a go. I may never kick the habit, but hopefully I’ll be better off because of it, not worse off as a result of it. As author Thornton Wilder famously quipped: “Money is like manure; it’s not worth a thing unless it’s spread around encouraging young things to grow.”
So, grow record collection. Stand tall with sturdy knees and a firm backbone. I’m sorry that I neglected you all these weeks. And, dear blog, forgive my recent absence. It’s true that it only makes the heart grow fonder.
N/P–Vetiver’s self-titled album (more on that soon)