After methodically flipping through hundred of records, the object of my affection rose from the vinyl masses – Warren Zevon’s 1987 album Sentimental Hygiene, which he recorded with three members of Rock ’n’ Roll Hall of Famers R.E.M. I’m sure I let out a little squeal, much like I did the month before when I found Time Zone’s World Destruction on vinyl.
While those names likely don’t mean much to you – even most music aficionados don’t know that Time Zone is activist rapper Afrika Bambaataa and punk rocker Johnny Rotten’s 1984 side project – they mean a lot to me. That’s because at different points in my life both of those albums represented something, and rediscovering them in music’s purest form – the good ol’ fashioned vinyl record – is far more fun than downloading a song from the internet and listening to the inferior digital translation.
Since Saturday was a National Record Store Day drop day, this seems like a good time to reminisce about when music was something made by real artists, not just computer programmers.
When hunting for vinyl, like all good local shoppers I always start first at home, which means visiting Dean’s Music in Andrews. I’ve known owner Dean Williams for nearly 40 years, and he takes great care of his inventory. The two of us spent many an hour in record stores before he had one of his own, which is why he still accompanies me to bigger stores within two hours from here looking for bargains.
From there it’s off to Deaf Man Vinyl in nearby McCaysville, Ga. Owner Steffen Smith has built a nice collection, particularly in classic rock, of new and used vinyl. If you can’t find it at Dean’s, I recommend making the drive just across the state line.
Williams and I traveled through a driving rain to Knoxville, Tenn., a couple weeks ago, where we visited three stores of various sizes that sold vinyl records. None of them were better than Dean’s or Deaf Man, so make sure you check them out before going on eBay or elsewhere.
The biggest place we went was McKay’s, which has a reputation for being an outlet store of sorts, but that’s just not true anymore. While the Chattanooga, Tenn., store was a good place to check out in the past, the Knoxville location was overpriced and underserved; if I can leave 1,000 records behind without buying even one, well, there you go.
We did discover Lost & Found Records in Knoxville, which is where Zevon came into play and the next-best-thing to our local stores. The store was recommend by musicians who played a show in Murphy. They also have a sweet Labrador retriever who greets you at the door, and as a dog guy that sort of thing appeals to me.
Even if you can’t find what you want till you know what you want – thanks, Joe Jackson – there’s no environment quite like a music store, where folks tend to be a lot more laid-back than typical retail outlets. Flipping through rows of vinyl records connects my past to the present and reminds me of cool stories in the soundtrack of my life; it never fails to be time well spent. The fact that I had many of these albums once upon a time just adds to the rediscovery.
I know listening to music through an iPod is more convenient; I have nearly 30,000 items in my iTunes at home. And I know CDs are more portable, unless you want to rejoin the cassette revolution. (I don’t, but knock yourself out.) But nothing sounds as good and offers as positive a listening experience than pulling out a vinyl record, dusting it carefully and setting down the stylus.
Come to think of it, I still haven’t played my new copy of The Replacements’ Pleased to Meet Me, so I know what I’ll be doing tonight. Listen well, my friends.