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Vinyl is cool again. That doesn't mean record collectors have to get all hipster Vinyl is cool again. That doesn't mean record collectors have to get all hipster
(2 months later)
I freaking loathe Jack White on a deeply visceral level. I feel like he's an arrogant, appropriating prick and no matter how technically good his music is, I can't get over the fact that it's him singing it.I freaking loathe Jack White on a deeply visceral level. I feel like he's an arrogant, appropriating prick and no matter how technically good his music is, I can't get over the fact that it's him singing it.
This makes me a particularly unsuitable candidate to evaluate his contribution to music history this week: he's the very first artist to hit Billboard number-one's album slot in large part due to vinyl sales since Pearl Jam's Vitalogy did the same in 1994. (Eddie Vedder is my second most-loathed artist among musicians generally respected by people whose taste I otherwise respect. I swear, I am less curmudgeonly than I may otherwise sound). This makes me a particularly unsuitable candidate to evaluate his contribution to music history this week: he's the very first artist to hit Billboard number-one's album slot in large part due to vinyl sales since Pearl Jam's Vitalogy did the same in 1994. (Eddie Vedder is my second most-loathed artist among musicians generally respected by people whose taste I otherwise respect. I swear, I am less curmudgeonly than I may otherwise sound).
I do, however, love vinyl. Vintage vinyl appeals to my sense of nostalgia, thrift and re-use. Diving through bins of unknown records gives me the thrill of the hunt – and I mostly subscribe to the principle that all hunting is to be done in person. (That's one reason I still don't have The Chills's Pink Frost on 45, but one day I will – oh yes, I will.) I still love to land a good first-pressing.I do, however, love vinyl. Vintage vinyl appeals to my sense of nostalgia, thrift and re-use. Diving through bins of unknown records gives me the thrill of the hunt – and I mostly subscribe to the principle that all hunting is to be done in person. (That's one reason I still don't have The Chills's Pink Frost on 45, but one day I will – oh yes, I will.) I still love to land a good first-pressing.
I'd rather play records than hoard them, and I've come to find that, while re-issuing The Replacements on 180-gram vinyl may well lower the value of my originals on Twin/Tone, the fact that people are willing to buy actual records means that I can get my hands on a re-issue of Psychocandy and (maybe one day) a copy of Lonesome Crowded West for less than $800.I'd rather play records than hoard them, and I've come to find that, while re-issuing The Replacements on 180-gram vinyl may well lower the value of my originals on Twin/Tone, the fact that people are willing to buy actual records means that I can get my hands on a re-issue of Psychocandy and (maybe one day) a copy of Lonesome Crowded West for less than $800.
To whatever extent this makes me sound like an asshole, I agree. To whatever extent this makes me sound like an asshole, I agree. However: age is a great leveler among record collectors. Just as I got my Starry Eyes on 45 from my friend 15 or so years older than I, if high school kids today want their chance at a fresh copy of Pretty in Pink or Substance on vinyl, who am I to do anything but congratulate them on their good taste?
However: age is a great leveler among record collectors. Just as I got
my Starry Eyes on 45 from my friend 15 or so years older than I, if
high school kids today want their chance at a fresh copy of Pretty in
Pink or Substance on vinyl, who am I to do anything but congratulate
them on their good taste?
I do get that new releases on vinyl can get pricey – and therefore have the potential to create an elitist audience – but in a climate in which indie musicians can open for Radiohead and still not afford health insurance, anything that creates a way to bring real, live musicians closer to making monday off their work, so that that they can make more of it – hey, that's cool with me. So, even as yet another person in another underpaid creative field who is busy collecting probably one too many records, I'm happy to spend whatever I can afford.I do get that new releases on vinyl can get pricey – and therefore have the potential to create an elitist audience – but in a climate in which indie musicians can open for Radiohead and still not afford health insurance, anything that creates a way to bring real, live musicians closer to making monday off their work, so that that they can make more of it – hey, that's cool with me. So, even as yet another person in another underpaid creative field who is busy collecting probably one too many records, I'm happy to spend whatever I can afford.
As it happens, the day I read the news that one of my least favorite artists was crowned the new champion of my most favorite medium, I was on vacation in Olympia, Washington – one of the hotbeds of my musical youth as a teenager growing up in the Pacific northwest – and I had already planned to go record shopping at some of my old haunts. As it happens, the day I read the news that one of my least favorite artists was crowned the new champion of my most favorite medium, I was on vacation in Olympia, Washington – one of the hotbeds of my musical youth as a teenager growing up in the Pacific northwest – and I had already planned to go record shopping at some of my old haunts.
But the first place I tried – Phantom Records – was nothing more than a bare storefront. Rainy Day Records up the block, however, was the platonic ideal of a local record store: half dozen or so boxes of 45s (sorted by new, used and local bands); standalone sections for punk records, local bands on vinyl, new records and indie reissues; a vinyl boxed set by local band Unwound; and mix tapes – on actual cassette! – by local hero Calvin Johnston (the co-founder of K Records and one of two minds behind Beat Happening Halo Benders), with plain photocopied black and white covers. But the first place I tried – Phantom Records – was nothing more than a bare storefront. Rainy Day Records up the block, however, was the platonic ideal of a local record store: half dozen or so boxes of 45s (sorted by new, used and local bands); standalone sections for punk records, local bands on vinyl, new records and indie reissues; a vinyl boxed set by local band Unwound; and mix tapes – on actual cassette! – by local hero Calvin Johnston (the co-founder of K Records and one of two minds behind Beat Happening Halo Benders), with plain photocopied black and white covers.
"So, hey," I said to the guy behind the counter. "You got the Jack White record?""So, hey," I said to the guy behind the counter. "You got the Jack White record?"
"We have it," he said."We have it," he said.
"And has it sold a lot of copies this week?""And has it sold a lot of copies this week?"
"People have bought it.""People have bought it."
"But you don't like it," I said to Nice Record Store Guy."But you don't like it," I said to Nice Record Store Guy.
"Well, that person's music isn't really my thing, but if other people like that person, and that person gets people to buy records, I guess it's a good thing for people who sell records.""Well, that person's music isn't really my thing, but if other people like that person, and that person gets people to buy records, I guess it's a good thing for people who sell records."
"You're calling him 'that person'. That's how I refer to my daughter's shitty ex-boyfriend.""You're calling him 'that person'. That's how I refer to my daughter's shitty ex-boyfriend."
"Well, I hate Record Store Day, too," said the record-store clerk. "That's why when people want to talk about Record Store Day, they don't talk to me.""Well, I hate Record Store Day, too," said the record-store clerk. "That's why when people want to talk about Record Store Day, they don't talk to me."
Record Store Day – usually held the third Saturday of April – is sort of record-collectors triathalon that rewards the triple values of scarcity, discernment and sheer physical endurance. It's the one day a year you will see kids with locally manufactured vegan messenger bags and '50s thrift store glasses – guilty! – lined up outside their local record stores at dawn, hoping to snag one of the only 250 copies of out-takes from Camera Obscura's 4AD demo-sessions, or Snoop Dogg and Willie on weed-green vinyl, or that seminal Merge math rock band on vinyl for the very first time. (Full disclosure: every one of those records are ones I myself hunted down.) Record Store Day – usually held the third Saturday of April – is sort of record-collectors triathalon that rewards the triple values of scarcity, discernment and sheer physical endurance. It's the one day a year you will see kids with locally manufactured vegan messenger bags and '50s thrift store glasses – guilty! – lined up outside their local record stores at dawn, hoping to snag one of the only 250 copies of out-takes from Camera Obscura's 4AD demo-sessions, or Snoop Dogg and Willie on weed-green vinyl, or that seminal Merge math rock band on vinyl for the very first time. (Full disclosure: every one of those records are ones I myself hunted down.)
In theory, RSD is an annual gift from labels and artists to the local record stores who love them – and many record stores love the attention. But it's not hard to understand why some record sores might not: they would rather have a steady trickle of loyal customers than an annual stampede that feels like Black Friday at Wal-mart. And while 250 copies of a record may be good for re-sale values on eBay, it’s not exactly going to get an artist (or a store owner) to the dentist, or pay the mortgage. In theory, RSD is an annual gift from labels and artists to the local record stores who love them – and many record stores love the attention. But it's not hard to understand why some record sores might not: they would rather have a steady trickle of loyal customers than an annual stampede that feels like Black Friday at Wal-mart. And while 250 copies of a record may be good for re-sale values on eBay, it’s not exactly going to get an artist (or a store owner) to the dentist, or pay the mortgage.
To be fair, I can hardly accuse White – who sold roughly 40,000 vinyl records in one week – of trafficking in scarcity. But he is trafficking in gimmickry: for instance, Side A plays from the inside-out, ending in a locked groove; putting the needle on the paper label will reveal something he calls "an under label groove": and there are two hidden tracks, that play at 45 RPM and 78 RPM, respectively. (If you don't know, issuing a track at 78 RPM renders it virtually unplayable on many standard home turntables. I have DJ tables, but, even so, playing at 78 RPM requires that one know yet another secret code – holding down both the 45 and 33 1/3 button at the same time.) And there's more: Side A has a shiny finish; Side B has a flat, matte finish; and there’s also freaking hologram, giving one the unique experience of having one's turntable watched over by an angel hand-etched by artist Tristan White. To be fair, I can hardly accuse White – who sold roughly 40,000 vinyl records in one week – of trafficking in scarcity. But he is trafficking in gimmickry: for instance, Side A plays from the inside-out, ending in a locked groove; putting the needle on the paper label will reveal something he calls "an under label groove": and there are two hidden tracks, that play at 45 RPM and 78 RPM, respectively. (If you don't know, issuing a track at 78 RPM renders it virtually unplayable on many standard home turntables. I have DJ tables, but, even so, playing at 78 RPM requires that one know yet another secret code – holding down both the 45 and 33 1/3 button at the same time.) And there's more: Side A has a shiny finish; Side B has a flat, matte finish; and there’s also freaking hologram, giving one the unique experience of having one's turntable watched over by an angel hand-etched by artist Tristan White.
Credit Jack White this much: he's stretching the limits of my number-one medium. But even as he's bringing vinyl to the masses, he's making sure it's not really for all of the masses. "If you were an average punk band, you could never afford to do this," explained Nice Record Store Guy, which makes the record store a kind of rich kid's playground. It's the hipster equivalent of the kind of overproduction that, in mainstream pop, results in autotuned vocals or a Matrix remix.Credit Jack White this much: he's stretching the limits of my number-one medium. But even as he's bringing vinyl to the masses, he's making sure it's not really for all of the masses. "If you were an average punk band, you could never afford to do this," explained Nice Record Store Guy, which makes the record store a kind of rich kid's playground. It's the hipster equivalent of the kind of overproduction that, in mainstream pop, results in autotuned vocals or a Matrix remix.
So, in honor of Nice Record Store Guy: if you care about vinyl, anything that makes people buy more of it – purple or green, locked or unlocked, celestial or subterranean – is probably good for the industry, and even better for getting people into the stores.So, in honor of Nice Record Store Guy: if you care about vinyl, anything that makes people buy more of it – purple or green, locked or unlocked, celestial or subterranean – is probably good for the industry, and even better for getting people into the stores.
Me, though, I left White and his hologram there and walked out with those mix tapes. Cassettes may not be my favorite medium, but they do play well in my dented '96 GMC Sonoma pickup truck. And, God knows, you'll only find them in Olympia.Me, though, I left White and his hologram there and walked out with those mix tapes. Cassettes may not be my favorite medium, but they do play well in my dented '96 GMC Sonoma pickup truck. And, God knows, you'll only find them in Olympia.