If it actually happens, I'll talk about where the records came from, why I bought them, what the songs or artists mean or meant to me and I'll get to make fun collections and sets of records (i.e. picture discs, records I didn't pay for, records from trips). It's really just High Fidelity-biographically organizing my records. I've always had stories for my records and wanted to share them, but I'm sure that no one wants to come to my house and listen to me blabber on about why I have each of the 300 or so records I have.
blah blah blah...
Well, as you can see by the eloquence of how I've introduced this whole thing, I need to get back into the flow of writing, because one, I haven't done it in a while and two, I really need to get my bearings back. So, let's get to the fucking point. Here we go.
The Vinyl Adventure
Day 1) Talkin' All That Jazz
In order to read a book, I figured I'd start with a quiet bang. Plus, there was a one night showing of a Thelonius Monk movie that I skipped out on. So, with those two things in mind I whipped these out.
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I don't think I've ever listened to Ella and Oscar in its entirety. I blame this completely on the timing of when I bought it. I remember it completely: a random pickup from the record shop on a sweaty summer day. I ran into two homies looking at shoes in the shop next door, one of whom, a self-professed amateur jazz singer, the other knowing full well that the first person was a self-professed amateur jazz singer. The latter asked me what I'd bought and reacted with, "oh cool!" and showed the former, who reacted like any young elitist would with a shrug, a "yeah, I guess that's cool," and a I'm-going-to-just-keep-looking-at-shoes-and-pretend-like-I'm-really-not-into-that demeanour.
None of this actually tarnished the record for me. What actually kept me from listening to this all the way through is the fact that the second track on it is Miss Fitzgerald and Mr. Peterson playing How Long Has This Been Going On. I don't think I could ever get through this song without deciding to immediately switch gears and just put on the Verve Remixed albums. Those motherfuckers were the heat at the time and I will stand by them to this day even though they get played at like every Second Cup now.
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Fats Domino's Blueberry Hill is one of those diversity hires in my record collection. I bought it out on a trip to Vancouver while I was determined to make my collection more than just hip hop and electro. [BTW, I do know it isn't jazz by any means. I'm just listening to records, you dick. Are you going to take that enjoyment away from me because of the title of a blog post?! You're a terrible person. WAIT! If you didn't think that, then you're not a terrible person and hopefully we're still cool and you keep reading.]
This album has some Creole spice all over it. Like, to the point where while I was eating a bowl of ice cream, Jambalaya came on, and I felt so odd because jambalaya and ice cream don't taste good together and I was freezing yet so warm at the same time. It also made me think about how much simpler times were when songs about just kissing hit the tops of charts whereas now songs are just about straight up fucking. Then I realized times weren't simpler because while Fats Domino could sometimes break into the top 40, his songs would be propelled to number ones when covered by artists like Pat Boone. Oh, racism...
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I don't really have much to say about Miles Smiles. It's a jazz record. I have it. I actually have absolutely no recollection of buying it. I listened to it. It's one of those records you put on on a Sunday afternoon and read a book to.
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Well, that was kind of fun. Until next time!
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