It's been a long weekend and I'm not even halfway through it. I had to work until 11pm last night. Then I had to get up at the butt-crack of dawn--really before the butt-crack of dawn--to drive to Goshen. Today is Record Store Day (or "RSD," as it's called in our increasingly abbreviated society), and even though there are a couple places in South Bend and Mishawaka that are celebrating it, Ignition Music Garage in Goshen is my preferred destination for my favourite holiday. So, trying to function on, at best, four hours of sleep, I drove an hour out of my way to the city of my birth. When I arrived shortly before 6am, the line already extended to the end of the block. I took my place at the back of it and proceeded to stand in line for two hours, exhaling steam the entire time because it was 30 degrees outside--someone apparently forgot to tell God it's spring. But the store's proprietor was really groovy and kept us going with coffee and doughnuts. She even conducted a trivia contest about an hour before the store opened. (I got 11 of the 20 questions correct which, given the difficulty of some of them, I think is respectable. I even managed to score a free Led Zeppelin t-shirt for my efforts.)
As is usually the case, there was one "streamer" who drove past shortly after I arrived who couldn't figure out why we were lined up around the block while it was still dark outside. Although this guy seemed pretty cool about it, in the past I have noticed eye rolling and head shaking on the part of the person who asked, as if they feel sorry for us. Since I don't kink shame anyone for their geeky obsessions, it always bothers me when other people do. Next year I'll be prepared. When asked why we're lined up around the block before sunrise, I'll just say that we're here for the demonstration--we heard that the streaming services are trying to lobby Congress to pass a bill outlawing all forms of physical media and we plan to protest. KEEP SPOTIFY OUT OF OUR GOVERNMENT!!!! (By the way, this isn't really happening, at least not to the best of my knowledge, but I've always wanted to start a bizarre left-wing conspiracy theory, so if anyone wants to run with this, you have my blessing.)
Sadly, I couldn't stay long as I had other things going on today, including going back to work. But I got what I think was a respectable haul including some live David Bowie, Françoise Hardy, the Asteroid City soundtrack (a leftover from a previous RSD event--I haven't even been able to get that one on CD), and special RSD reissues of albums by The B-52's, The Hindu Love Gods, and my beloved Rolling Stones. I also picked up a couple of used CDs that I felt that I should have by Nick Cave and Jimmy Buffett... what can I say? My tastes are nothing if not eclectic.
I've said in the past that when I'm in a record store, I feel like I'm on hallowed ground. It sounds kind of corny, but it does feel like a religious and/or spiritual pilgrimage of sorts, at least for me. So many of us, consciously or not, need to have music in our lives. We use music to fill holes in our souls and help us deal with the dramas and traumas in our everyday lives. We associate certain pieces of music with important points in our lives, kind of like our own personal soundtrack. We curate our own playlists for certain activities in our lives (what used to be known as mix discs, what used to be known as mix tapes--and yes, I still have a few of those from my youth). Admittedly, like your more orthodox religions, some of us are more obsessive about it than others. Today was no different. There was something uplifting about the whole thing. I'm still kind of coming down from it even as I write this. So, if you still enjoy physical media--vinyl, CDs, or even cassettes--support your local record stores! The one thing I dislike about religion is prosyletization--this is about as close as I get to it.
"Now... I told you that story to tell you this one."
--Bill Cosby, "Buck Buck," 1967 (Am I even allowed to quote him these days? Tough--I'm doing it anyway.)
Shortly before I left Bloomington in 2009, I made a point of doing a lot of little things that I knew I would miss. One afternoon, I had lunch with my dear friend Beverly at Nick's English Hut, I went to the Eskanazi Museum of Art on the campus of Indiana University, and then I played some pool at the Indiana Memorial Union.
It had been awhile since I'd been to the Union. Since my last visit, they had installed a widescreen television in the billiards area which was showing a baseball game that afternoon. I assembled my cue (Keith) and set up the table. In my back pocket, I had a portable Sony Discman and a CD I had recently purchased. I had a pool table in front of me and great blues music blaring into my ears, all while my Chicago Cubs beat the Cincinnati Reds 7-3. (FULL DISCLOSURE--apparently there was a double-header that day and the Reds won the other game 4-2.) It was by far, the most fun I had ever had playing pool. The only way it could have been better was if I had a cigar, a glass of Scotch, and my dad to play against me, which isn't as melancholy as it sounds--he was still alive at that time. I consider myself so spoiled by the experience that I haven't been able to play pool anywhere else in the sixteen years since. It shouldn't be any surprise to anyone that I even made a pool playing playlist for when I get to do it again.
Flash-forward a decade: RSD, 2019. While looking through all the new releases laid out on a table, I saw what I consider to be one of the greatest album covers of all time. I was absolutely delighted to find that that same album I had listened to that afternoon in the pool hall at the IU Memorial Union ten years earlier was getting a special RSD vinyl (MONO!) reissue. Needless to say, I grabbed it immediately. As I said, most of us tend to associate certain pieces of music with certain moments in our lives. This is one of those odd albums that I can honestly say I have two distinct memories of at two distinct moments in my life, both of which I look back on with fondness.
This week, it's my pleasure to share with you the one and only Albert King and his landmark, classic, watershed, insert your own hyperbolic adjectives here, album released on the Stax label in 1967. Featuring the equally legendary Booker T. & the MGs, Isaac Hayes, and the Memphis Horns, please enjoy Born Under a Bad Sign.
As always, my thanks to the staff of Ignition Music Garage in Goshen, Indiana, for hosting today's festivities. I really need to make a point of getting over there more than once a year.
I will be taking next week off from these weekly ramblings. Until I return, stay safe, be good to your neighbours, and please remember that if at first you don't succeed, then skydiving definitely isn't for you.
Yours in peace, love, and rock and roll!
The Reverend Will the Thrill
Or, if you're one of those people who typically prefers stereo recordings, you can check out that version of the album at:
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