I remember the day Led Zeppelin's Houses of the Holy was released.
I was 6, at home with Lori the babysitter. We sat outside on the stoop waiting for her boyfriend to come over with the album. They drank my parent’s liquor and blasted D’yer Maker on my folk’s old stereo. I laid on the floor with Lori and my dog, looking at the naked baby album art, listening to the music, in album order, over and over. I remember the feeling of being a part of it.
In 1979 I was in 7th grade and still living in Brooklyn. There were two record stores I could walk to: The Record Factory, and The Little Record Store. And, I mean “record” stores. Vinyl. 45’s, but mostly 33’s. Black Sabbath. Kiss. Angel. Sweet. T-Rex. Thin Lizzy. The Runaways. Jethro Tull. ELO. Yes. ELP. Sex Pistols.
I would go to those stores weekly and touch every album in those bins. I could start with the A’s and thumb through each record in the entire store ending with the Z’s. I knew every album that was out. I knew what bands were recording. We all did.
Back then you were so limited in the ways you could get music. There was such a profound feeling, a real experience, waiting for the vinyl to be released and getting to the store, and physically picking up the album you had waited for, the record you had to have. There was no mail order, or online ordering, or mp3’s, or free downloads, or Sirius radio or internet streaming feeds or eleven thousand MTV/VH1/Fuse stations, or satellite music on your TV. Yeah, you had a couple radio stations but they weren’t playing what you wanted to hear anyway.
You had albums and concerts. That was it. And my god when you got your hands on the “new” album by a band you loved you felt like you were one of the only people in the whole world to have this music, privy to the secret of it.
Back then you ran home and you went in your room, and you closed the door. You pulled that new crisp back vinyl album out of its cardboard sleeve, and you put it on the turntable. Then, you sat still. You listened. The music had all of your attention. You stared at the album cover. You read the liner notes. You read along with the lyrics if they were printed. You listened to it over and over. All the way through. From beginning to end. In order, just as the artists intended. You didn’t skip the songs you weren’t too thrilled with. You digested the concept the way the band wanted you to. The way it was meant to be.
The album was an entity all its own.
In 1982 I was 15 years old, living in Pennsylvania. Adam and the Ants - Kings of the Wild Frontier. Asia self titled. Rush - Signals. Blue Oyster Cult - Fire of Unknown Origin. Ramones - End of the Century. Judas Priest - Screaming for Vengeance. The Clash - Combat Rock. Joan Jett & the Blackhearts. Icehouse. Queen. David Bowie. Ultravox. Alice Cooper. Boston. Depeche Mode. AC/DC. Blondie. I can still name songs by saying phrases like “fourth song second side.” I can still recite the liner notes and tell you about the cover art. I can name the musicians. I can give you the date of releasment and the store where I bought it. I can still remember where the skips were from being overplayed.
There weren’t a million bands making their own genres and releasing independent recordings. When a band got signed back then, it was a big deal. If you weren’t signed, you couldn’t get your music out there. It meant something. And there weren’t 200 different categories from Ska to Emo. There was rock. That was pretty much it. Punk, hard rock, corporate... But it was all together. You had some different flavors, but it was all pretty much rock. And you knew these bands. There was a long period of time where you could actually know pretty much every single recording artist that was out there.
I’m not complaining. I have 130 gigs of music. I love going into I-tunes and buying a song I heard on Area 38 Sirius radio, picking the mix I prefer, and then seeing what people who bought that song also bought. I love independent music. I love the choices and possibilities.
But I miss that feeling of discovery and knowing. I miss The Little Record Store on 86th and 5th in Bay Ridge Brooklyn. I miss Led Zeppelin.
“I want to dedicate it
Every body made it
Infiltrate it
Activate it.”
- Pop Music, by M
Dave Dee, Dozy, Beaky, Mick & Tich - Hold Tight
.
November 04, 2008
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14 comments:
I wish I had those experiences. I was born into the world of CD's. Skip songs you don't like. Change the station to one of the other 6 that are broadcasting. Buring CDs with mp3 formatted songs, so I can fit 200 on the one disc.
I don't read the cover notes, I don't read the lyrics, I don't know which year it was released, only if it was recently, a couple of months ago or a few years back. The music industry has been bastardised, and I can't help but feel a little sad.
I think you capture the vinyl experience perfectly. Everyone who didn't get to live it, missed out on the wonderful album art and the fact that most artists had to put at least five good songs on their album.
Hell, during my "exile" to suburbia, going to the record store was the only thing that one could do, when you were too young to go to bars/clubs and you had already seen every movie that was out.
I used to love sitting in my dad's loft, the sun streaming through the windows showing the streaks of dust floating in the air. I would flip through my dad's albums: Bruce Springsteen, Bob Dylan (Lay Lady Lay just fascinated me)...My very favourite part was reading the lyrics and just being mesmerized by the mystery.
Thanks for bringing back that moment for me.
Oh babe. I grew up in the 50' and 60's. I have seen it all. Every bit of it. And I still luvz me a whole bunch of rock and roll. These days I like Garbage, Vienna Teng, Regina Spektor, Bruce Cockburn, James McMurtry and several others. But I long for vinyl and my really good stereo. I do.
1982. I was 12. It was summer. I had just gotten my first stereo, a Hitachi with an 8-track player. My sister had some friends over, and they were laughing in the front yard beneath my window. I picked up the speaker and moved it to the window, and I played Journey Escape into the perfect summer night. Even though my sister and her friends were seniors in high school, and even though I was sitting in my room while they were outside, the music brought everything together for all of us for one brief but wonderful moment.
I experienced the same thing, although I am into a new thing now.
It has all changed so fast, from CD's to mp3 to satellite radio.
Consumer-wise, I mostly listen to satellite radio, and I don't purchase as much music as I used to.
But my primary music drug of choice has been playing it, primarily on guitars, but also bass and drums.
We don't get much quality live music here in Southwestern Montana, so we have to make it ourselves.
I used to flip through my dad's vinyl when i was a kid... the album covers were so much cooler back then. The naked woman on Santana's Abraxas used to always give me a thrill... a cheap thrill... as in free.
Yes, Veronica - you captured this brilliantly. I was of the same era, and worked as a professional in the music business (both artistically and corporately). Although I still get extremely excited when I hear an original piece of music and just want to be immersed in the sound, the intention, the passion...the sad part is, technology has made music dispensable. While still a very important, personal factor in people's lives, it's so "available" that the anticipation has been lost and the artistic process devalued: Why pay $16 for a new CD when you can burn it for the cost of a CD-R?
Excellent post and probably one of the most personal ones for me.
"I heard you on the wireless back in Fifty Two
Lying awake intent at tuning in on you.
If I was young it didn't stop you coming through.
They took the credit for your second symphony.
Rewritten by machine and new technology,
and now I understand the problems you can see.
And now we meet in an abandoned studio.
We hear the playback and it seems so long ago.
And you remember the jingles used to go.
In my mind and in my car, we can't rewind we've gone to far."
-Video Killed The Radio Star by The Buggles
I'm only 16, so clearly I've been around CD's my whole life, but theres something so much more exciting about seeing a record in a shop. My heart stops when I see one of my favourite bands old records. And putting it on the record player and just listening, its so amazing and different. You feel like you're a part of something.
When I started getting into music, it was just as records were fading out, and cassette tapes coming in. I would have loved to have had the experiences you did, the special feeling of discovery.
The only thing I can compare that to is in my late teens, I was heavily into dance music, and all djing was still done with records. I used to love flipping through them in specialist shops, finding that mix you heard on Saturday night, the stuff you can't get in big record shops.
The first concert I went to was Oasis at Maine Rd. It was the height of their fame and Manchester music. I miss those days, it's just not the same now. There was a real subculture going on here and everyone wanted to be part of it, a little like the Seattle/ Grunge thing.
My favourite concert HAS to be when I went to as festival in Denmark 2 years ago- Roskilde. We saw Morrissey, Franz Ferdinand, Pendulum, Red Hot Chillies and topped off on the sunset of the last night with Roger Waters and The Dark Side of the Moon. The experience was other worldly. Burning sunshine by day, tumbling from tent to stage to chill out zones, the atmosphere was so friendly, I felt accepted and just had so much FUN. But the music, had to be by far, the most amazing I've ever heard.
The expectation and the thrill? I know it again from Harry Potter .. ;)
Veronica, as much as i love technolgy and the ease with which we can access our favourite tunes, i too remember the feelings you described, entering a record store with anticipation of finding a long awaited album release... I still read the liner notes but the writing is much smaller now!
And thank you for inviting me to present a plea to your audience of readers. I am Ostin Torre (unsigned songwriter/music performer) I have entered my latest music video in a competition and i need votes! If you have the time, please just do the following, first click on the link below
http://www.babelgum.com/musicnation-video-award/
then search for Ostin Torre on the search option of their page. Ostin Torre - ALIVE should appear, click on the black video screen, it should open up to a larger screen then click on that screen and a green link should appear beside it on the right. When you click that it will prompt you to download the plug in.
Once that is done you can play my video for ALIVE, while it is playing it is possible to vote, this is where i can realy use your help.. You can only vote once a day and the competition began on the 18th of November, everyday and every vote counts, the prize being a recording contract!
If you can help, please do!
OT
My pleasure Ostin. You know how much I love your music. I'm listening to Space Cowboy remix right now.
Loved this one. Two thoughts surfaced (or it may have been gas).
First, I do love the availability of music that we have. From garage or more likely spare bedrooms with computers and musicians... to listener. Perhaps with one click. From upload to download. Anywhere. Anything. It's almost magical or divine, the expanse of it all. We're all richer for the availability and exposure.
Yet, we have lost adolescent pangs, waiting for your record to come out. Or waiting for it on the radio, and using your youth, speed and agility to negotiate the situation as to hear the song, do the double digit depression of record and play... After the dj stops talking but before the singer starts singing. Then you had to listen for the end in sort of the reverse order. The dj talking over the end was a bitch, but a cost of doing business. The real wild card was the dog barking or the phone ringing. Or... your mother.
We've lost the tangibility of the album, the grooves, the needle, the artwork, and the mere presence and proximity between the listener and the machine.
The second thing, is quite simple. The writing, the content, the author, the reach through cyberspace, the comments; all of these exponentially build on this experience? And what is this experience? Blogging? Writing? Chatting?
It is all art, fluid and dynamic. And then, what is art I wondered? I didn't need to wander around any more, research, nothing. It just came to me. I felt the meaning of art. I think I would be mostly correct if one definition was: An entity had a thought. And then everything that happens after that, is an infinite evolution, in all fabrics and dimensions.
I don't know if you're following, but it's real and clear to me. I'm not drinking if it sounds messed up. It's probably all been said before, but I felt it and had to express it, and now I'm part of this big, beautiful canvas.
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