Tuesday, March 31, 2020

When last I visited the record store...

On Saturday March 6 my wife and I met her brother in Belleville. He and his wife, plus another sister avec husband, gathered with the two of us for breakfast and caught up on events. My bro-in-law just received a diagnosis — the Big C. We’re all grateful, of course, for the astonishing advances in treatment. And we hope all things, don’t we? It was lovely to see each other and share a common meal — the last such occasion in what might be a very long time.

The day before, we’d stopped at the Quinte Mall. While my wife committed to her own shopping concerns, I stuck to mine — a visit to the last surviving Sam The Record Man. The place is a trip — seriously, check out this gallery.
I loaded my arms, but these two discs are the highlight of my cache from that day — Rory Gallagher’s Blues with Chess Records, and Life. Legacy. Music., a single disc retrospective of Streetheart.
Streetheart is a Canadian rock band whose heyday coincided with my adolescence. They headlined and filled arenas up here, and did not too badly in the US and Europe as well, opening for some mighty big names. Their sound is unique for a rock band, because the bulk of songs were clearly written by someone who learned music theory by way of piano — that’d be Daryl Gutheil. Guitarists had to be adaptable to play this stuff, and much of Streetheart’s earliest music, prior to that era when keyboard synthesizers and drum-machine beats became the mainstay, remains interesting to listen to.

Vocalist Kenny Shields died three years ago, but I gather the band is still doing its thing — or will return to doing its thing, once this pandemic gets in hand.

As for Rory Gallagher, I took note of the Chess collection when it was released, but figured I didn’t need any more RG. But there at Sam’s I saw it, held it, and realized I was feeling differently about it, so I bought it. And I’m glad I did. It’s not essential Rory Gallagher, but it is crazy good.

Not essential, but crazy good — seems a terrible distinction to make, somehow. It brings to mind my earlier theory that, for this listener at least, maximal artist absorption seems to peak at three albums. It’s a theory that still holds true for me. Given how difficult it is to mull over anything not plague related, it might be time to resume listing — I’m thinking a series of “Three albums by...” posts.

Do stay tuned.

4 comments:

pdb said...

Knew record stores when younger, though I never hung out in them. There were Baltimore/D.C. spots with great reputations, of course. I never seriously hung out in comics stores either, though they had the stronger appeal for me — but this is what I’m thinking of at the moment. Not that I lurk in them really much more than I did when younger, myself, but that I’m listening a good deal these days to people for whom they remain important. (Contributed in a very small way to this project — whose great misfortune it’s been to open its doors for the first time in March of 2020 — for instance.) Couldn’t help thinking of David Harper’s item of a few days ago when looking at those pictures of the hold-out Sam’s store.

Whisky Prajer said...

Oh my -- I have sinned and fallen short of the glory of God. These days it is quite rare for me to spend money on a physical comic book (though, in fairness, if the odds are better if we're talking about an indy prestige item). The digital revolution came at exactly the right time for me, as my eyes began to fade and my need to expand the pictures to their absolute limit became greater and greater. Whoever came up with the double-tap digital format favoured by the big leagues deserves a Medal of Freedom, or some damn thing, because for this reader it has actually improved the comic book reading experience.

Record stores are a different thing, of course. They tend to be boutiquey, for one thing. My current fave is run by the owner -- a friendly guy with a tiny store that is strictly a cash-only affair. I go for the conversation as much as for the "product." Now that I think of it, the last time I was in the weekly habit of visiting the comic book store, it was because the young guy who took over from Fran was an amiable and engaging chap who kept an eye on what I was digging. I hated to think his business might suffer if I stopped buying Sienkiewicz books from him.

pdb said...

Oof, the eyes. There’s a topic to come back to. My own little turn of rediscovery of superhero comics with Mignola & co. came about through stumbling across Dark Horse’s iPhone app (in summer 2011, it looks like, from purchase record on their site). These days I don’t tolerate reading on the phone so much, but can’t say whether that’s because of eyesight. Eyesight’s an issue; haven’t had decent eyeglasses for quite a long time. (I have next to nothing to spend on books, correspondingly.) I look at a lot of stuff on this here laptop screen, but for comics, paper remains my preference. I like to be able to see parts in relation to the whole. I move a book in and out a lot.

Not being able to buy keeps me out of comics shops as much as anything does, but since NY, they’ve come to appeal to me as much for themselves as for their wares. That’s a subject I hope to find more opportunity to talk about.

In Chicago, here, they aren’t hurting for record stores, especially on the northerly side. (T. & I investigated a couple of those around beginning of the year — mentioned in a comment here then. One, it turned out, was strictly vinyl. Fun to look, anyway.) In our neighborhood, there’s a little joint a few blocks away that I haven’t gotten around to checking out. Very university neighborhood hole-in-the-wall place, local-culturey, venerable— dating to sometime in the ’70s, it seems. I like the idea of spending time in a place like that. But I am also intimidated!

Whisky Prajer said...

"Parts in relation to the whole" is another argument for digital, imo. Mind you, I use a tablet -- another format smaller or less akin to the printed comic book page would be difficult to enjoy. But reading digital was what smote me when I first encountered Amanda Conner. The local lye-berry eventually acquired the hardcover, which I duly borrowed -- super-large paper! And I preferred the dij.

As for boutiques, it is ALL about the people running them, isn't it? If they haven't the time for me I am all too happy to return the favour.