"An already perfect song made transcendental…"

"Unsure where this came from, if not the palsied hands of the good Lord himself."

That's how the original author of a post described it over on that there Tumblr thingie, and I immediately recognized its source: The Blacklist soundtrack, a underrated and—as near as I can tell—basically unknown gem I found at the library a couple months ago.

Simple premise: Dolly Parton's "Jolene" slowed from 45 to 33 rpm. Nothing more; no studio trickery, no trip hop drum breaks. The guitar loops back in and around itself. The bass becomes elastic, hot rubber. The violin stabs become sustained cello lines. The backing choir's split harmony rattles around, slinking ghostly into the corner.  And most importantly, Parton's once-frantic vocal is transformed from bubblegum country scrawl into something approximating field holler reverence.

"An already perfect song made transcendental…"

The rest of the album is just as good—and even available on vinyl for those of you so inclined. (Yes, I ordered a copy.)

OMG

My entire collection consists of only 10 of those individual cubes and I have a hard time knowing what's in that. As for this, I can't even begin to imagine what it's like. But it's beautiful, nevertheless.

Reminds me a bit of Barry Walters' (another story for another time) collection.

One Of My All Time Favorites

While Captain Fantastic and the Brown Dirt Cowboy is my most beloved Elton John album ever and is amazing as a whole, Better Off Dead is without a doubt my favorite cut from the whole set.

Escape

Clear 40 minutes from your calendar, plug in your headphones, put your feet up, close your eyes, and let your mind wander…

About 10 minutes into this,  I'm 20 again, skimming over endless dunes in my landspeeder.

He Say…

…you BRADE RUNNAH!

Six months ago I didn't even know this record existed (even though I'd had the CD version since its release in 1994), but once I did of course I had to have it.

I'd forgotten how hauntingly beautiful this score was. My friend Barry wrote an excellent review for the SF Chronicle back in the day that I was hoping to quote from, but while attempting to locate it just now I realized that it—along with so many other things—has gone missing, no doubt tossed out in a fevered purge at some point.

Fucking Internet

Damn you, Discogs. You're allowing me to find records that I never thought I'd see, much less own.

I've had THP Orchestra's 1977 LP, Two Hot For Love, in my collection from the start, and it was one of the first I found when I was piecing that collection back together after selling it all in the 80s. Almost from the day it came out I'd heard rumors of it being available on white vinyl, but I'd never seen it anywhere, and  I frustratingly learned back in the day that you only got colored vinyl from Butterfly Records if you were in the right store at the right time, were a DJ, or knew one.

I was listening to the record a couple weeks ago and thought, "Why not Google THP Orchestra Two Hot for Love white vinyl?" and see what comes up.

BOOM! There it was. And the seller wasn't asking a hundred dollars for it either; only ten.

That's Surprising

So I'm playing around with my iTunes playlists today and I made the surprising/disturbing discovery that of the 16,191 items in my library, 9461—NINE THOUSAND FOUR HUNDRED SIXTY ONE—supposedly have never been played.

How is this even possible?

Oh yeah…several years ago I inadvertently reset the play counts. But still, that's a lot of music I haven't listened to since then (if ever); 28.2 days worth to be exact.

Best Comment Ever

"Disco never died, it just went underground. If this doesn't get you tapping your feet or moving yo ass, you're dead inside."

Doubleplusgood

I'd forgotten what an awesome track this was…

As a reminder, Orwell's 1984 was written as a cautionary tale…not a How-To Manual.

And since we're on the subject of Eurythmics and that awesome soundtrack…

An Ambient Escape

While it may seem from my recent posts about rediscovering vinyl that I am obsessed with music from the 70s and 80s, that is only partly correct. As unthinkable as it might have been to my 20-year old self, one does not live by Disco alone. When considering music composed in this century, I admit a great fondness for electronica and ambient.

I discovered Loscil via Apple Radio a couple years ago, and for better or worse Scott Morgan's music became the soundtrack of my life at—and for many a snowy commute to and from—DISH. But even with that horrible baggage, it does nothing to diminish my innate love of his music, and to this day I still use it when I need to chill—something I needed to do a lot while working at that Toxic Vat of Feculent Hellstew—or simply ease back into sleep (as I did this morning at 4 am).

If you click on any of the album covers above it will take you to the respective iTunes pages where you can sample it yourself.

Just Because

Pointer Sisters: Fire/Happiness (12" 45 rpm gold vinyl mix)
Brothers Johnson: Strawberry Letter 23 (12" 45 rpm red vinyl mix)

Rumour Has It

And this is the other original piece of vinyl that survived the purge: Donna Summer's 1977 masterpiece, Once Upon a Time… This record holds a special place in my heart for several reasons, but mostly because of the very personal "once upon a time" quest for that special someone that a certain wide-eyed, newly-minted 19-year old gay boy and and his closest friends were going through at the time. (To this day, on I Love You, I distinctly hear Donna sing, "…and he wrapped him in his arms again…" though I know logically that even if she had flubbed up and sang that it would've been caught and corrected long before the record was even pressed.)

I remember the first time we heard "Rumour Has It/I Love You/ Happily Ever After" and "Now I Need You" on the dance floor; it was as if Donna was singing about us. And for many, many weeks, the DJ wouldn't play these songs as part of his regular set during the evening, instead reserving them for the start of after hours when the lights and been turned back down and the mirror ball started glittering. They were always met with squeals of joy from the dance floor.

It was a balmy November afternoon when my friend and dance partner Kent and I ran down to Odyssey Records and bought this LP. I know the exact date only because I wrote it on the outer dust jacket, anticipating that it would be a special moment to remember. (And because Kent and I had already had several arguments over when specific records had come out.) We hadn't yet heard the entire album, so when we got back to my house and played the entire 2-disk set, it was a magical experience. Afterward we played it again and then talked for hours on what it all meant; something I will never forget.

May the Force Be With You

A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away. This is one of only two LPs I kept when I sold my entire collection in the late 80s, bought new in the summer of 1977. And is actually the second copy of the record I purchased because I literally wore the original copy out. (I know this is the newer copy because of the graphic on the center label of the record. 20th Century changed it on all their pressings shortly after the movie was released.) And yes, getting rid of all my vinyl ranks right up there as one of the "Dumbest Things I've Ever Done In My Life" category.

But on the other hand, if I'd never gotten rid of the vinyl or my turntable back then, I might never have met the people or made the friends I have now through my quest to rebuild that collection, so I consider myself ahead.

Oh. My.

Technics is back in the turntable business!

From The Verge:

The legendary Technics SL-1200 turntable has been a mainstay of the DJ scene for decades now, but the tanklike direct-drive turntable has also long had a quiet reputation for sound quality as well. And for the 50th anniversary of the SL-1200, Technics is releasing two new "Grand Class" models aimed at audiophiles: the aluminum-cased SL-1200G and the magnesium limited anniversary edition SL-1200GAE, of which only 1,200 will be produced.

Apart from the case, the new models all have new "high-dampening tonearm" and a "three-layered turntable," which are words that audiophiles who buy a limited edition magnesium record player are sure to be excited about. There's also a new microprocessor controlled direct-drive system which eliminates something called "cogging," a scourge so terrible that Technics devotes a full paragraph to it in the press release. Here is that paragraph. Behold its majesty:

Direct drive turntable systems have been beloved by HiFi enthusiasts since their birth in 1972. However, one problem that direct-drive systems have always faced was sound quality degradation caused by 'cogging', or tiny vibrations of the motor and rotational speed fluctuations. However, by combining the knowledge and expertise gained as the originator of direct-drive turntable systems with a newly developed coreless direct-drive motor without iron core, this 'cogging' can be eliminated. Any potential minute motor vibrations are suppressed even further by high-precision rotary positioning sensors guided by a microprocessor controlled system; a feature unique to the new Technics turntable.

Vinyl record sales have been booming lately, so it's not at all surprising that Technics is capitalizing on the SL-1200's mystique here—we're actually expecting to see a few high-end turntables at CES 2016. No word on pricing, but expect these to be crazy expensive when the 1200GAE arrives in summer and the 1200G hits late in the year. (Also, 50 years' worth of SL-1200s are also available on eBay and Craigslist in virtually every city in the world, if you're that impatient.)

While there are certain aesthetic aspects of the design I don't agree with, I still peed myself a little bit when I saw this today.

So I Went to Zia Records Today

I wasn't really intending to buy anything. I still need to flesh out a few dozen missing titles from my old collection that have eluded me, but the spreadsheet where I keep all that data is a mess and needs to be properly sorted before it will be of any on-the-go use to me.

First off, I was shocked—shocked, I tell you—at the price of new vinyl: $19.99~49.99. Seriously? I realize it's making a comeback and there are still precious few pressing plants in operation, but still. $39.99 for Madonna's latest?

Thankfully, the bins were overflowing with even more used vinyl at a very reasonable price point of  $2.99~5.99. Buying used is always a crap shoot because of the nature of the medium, however. You can visually inspect the records, but you can never tell how much actual gunk is hiding in the grooves until you play them.

While browsing, I ran across the above gem, Isao Tomita's 1978 Bermuda Triangle on coral vinyl. It had no inner liner so I knew it was probably going to be a very noisy disk, but there was no way I was going to let this slip through my hands—especially when it was on that fabulous colored vinyl!

I owned this new (also on coral) back in 1978. You've got to remember that at that time electronic music in general was still something very new and the sound very modern. I was a huge Tomita fan, having fallen in love his application of electronic instruments to classical masterpiecesThis particular disk, however, was strictly of his own composition, and while it brings back a lot of good memories of that period in my life, parts of it sound very dated. A little STAR WARS here, a little E.T. The Extraterrestrial there, and some Prokofiev and Sibelius thrown in for good measure.

And as I feared, the record is very noisy, ironically sending me off on a search for a digital copy…

You Spin Me Round Like a Record

I seem to have rediscovered the joys of vinyl. It's not like I ever stopped, but I would say conservatively that I've played more records in the last two weeks than I have during the last two years. I sensed that the format was making a comeback—especially among the next generation–but I had no idea of the actual extent of it until I started searching hashtags on Instagram, revealing a thriving, vibrant community of like-minded individuals.

This led me to other hashtags, revealing that not only is interest in classic hifi equipment alive and well, there are also many, many people out there who share my passion for the days when stereo equipment was built like tanks and made to last.

Recommended

Those of us who are of a certain age will undoubtedly remember many a smoky night spent on a flashing dance floor gyrating our once pert-and-perky asses to Cerrone's 1978 classic Supernature.

The reason I bring this up is that this morning while scrolling through iTunes I ran across Cerrone's 2010 Cerrone Symphony Variations of Supernature, essentially a symphonic 44-minute remix/augmentation/updating of the original 1978 source material that I orgasmed over when I first heard it years ago.

I'm pretty sure I'd written a review back then, but like all the rest of my posts prior to moving to Denver, it was consigned to the depths of internet hell.

Anyway, I had forgotten how good it really was.

It's also kind of funny in that CBS's Zoo (yeah, I watch it as ridiculous as it is because James Wolk is pretty) seems to be loosely based on the premise Cerrone explored in his music nearly 40 years ago (I can not be that old!)—that the animals will one day rise up and rebel against mankind.

While it's not available on iTunes (WTF?), you can can still pick it up on physical media from Amazon.