i have this friend who has hundreds, most likely thousands of records - a lot of them are his dads, but he's spent a lot of time and money searching for and buying records
i spend a lot of time browsing music stores, and im constantly on the look out for new and old bands that play with a certain character and coolness - but most of my music collection is in cd form - it's an impressive collection, despite the fact i now have to justify it to anyone satisfied with streaming their music through a telephone or computer - i've started buying records lately for a number of reasons - one of them being a big fuck you to those people telling me to get a spotify account - i go backwards in media - i listen to no-one and my inspiration comes from the real deal - the source - but my brother got me a record for christmas last year, and so i thought it was a perfect time to buy a record player and some more of my favourite albums on vinyl - and man, it changed the way i listen to music, both physically, obviously, and audibly, and changed my vision on some albums i'd listened to hundreds of times throughout my life
i started holding "record nights" - originally it was going to be a record party, where i invite all my friends over to my place and i play all my records for them to enjoy with beer and wine and pizza shapes - i quickly understood that no-one gives a shit, so thought i'd just invite all my music-loving friends, but i don't like to force friendships on people - so it ended up being one-on-one records nights - two people (just so happens they've all been all male so far...) sitting around listening to mutually adored albums, start to finish, with the light dimmed, the lamps glowing, the curtains closed every night it isn't a full moon, incense burning slowly and blue smoke curling in reverse (it somehow fits and drifts perfectly to all types of music) drinking beer, wine, whiskey and eating pizza shapes - they're late nights too - wild nights in dark smokey corners of our most beloved subconsciousness - but when it came to this one friend in-particular, i knew his shadows stretched longer and darker than mine - and so i went over to his place, with some records slung in a bag over my shoulder, a pie from bakers-delight in my stomach, and a short train ride to a place where i once knew a girl
a great guy and great friend that i have for no reason whatsoever - we sat around and started drinking early - he told me that rowland s howard originally grew up in nunawading, my home town, and that made me so happy - i couldn't believe it - i texted my brother, who knows this kind of stuff, and asked if he'd heard about it - he hadn't, but it's true
we got talking about record stores while listening to sound as ever by you am i - it was then i heard this amazing little anecdote that i can't shake from my thinking
there is a feeling you get when you stumble upon some great, forgotten, album in a record store - it's a feeling you can't find on any of the streaming service - ...service - i know i recently felt it when i came across jim morrison's an american prayer on vinyl in great condition for a great price - i came across it when i found the fauves' drive through charisma (with bonus disc) at dixons - hell, any fauves album at dixon's - it's a chill and a warm feeling all at once - it's a stab in the guts and a warm tight hug simultaneously - it's like when you see twenty bucks moving down the footpath of a busy street, wondering if you should believe your eyes, and wondering if someone is going to claim it, or pinch it before you - it's a nasty feeling and a motherfucker, in a miles davis kinda way - so we were talking about this one record store in melbourne that i frequent often in my lunch breaks from work, and one my friend visits regularly - it's a great place - small, but packed wall to wall with the best music around, sourced and scoped and sort after by the best - the walls are tattered with band and gig posters - there is a live sized cardboard cut out of dave graney looking cool in a baby blue suit, hat and tie - and so anway, we both talked of our love for the place, and the people who run it, and the people who keep it alive - and my friend told me of this one time, he was browsing through this record store, and it all got too much for him - there was just so much great stuff there, available - so many great bands, so many great albums, it was too much for him - and so in some overwhelming sense of frustration, he had to leave - he had to get out of there - it was too much for him - get some air man!
anyway, i don't like to use the word beautiful that often, but i thought there was something beautiful about that - sure, people can get overwhelmed by a field of flowers, by the chance encounter with an echidna, a surprise party, an act of kindness - but being a music lover is lonely work - buying records and cds is lonely work - hours and days and weekends spent flicking through shit - every time i see what they have in the way of Lou Reed or REM, i cop a face full of james reyne - and so when you strike gold, or when it reyne's down around you, it's truely a beautiful thing, and a great way to spend that twenty bucks you found on the street
