JERRY JEFF WALKER - Walker's Collectibles

Jerry Jeff Walker
Walker's Collectibles
MCA, 1974 

I was really getting reacquainted with my record collection and was cruising with this blog for a couple of months during the initial COVID shutdown and my immediate work furlough.  Then I got called back to work.  Then my in-laws moved in which (along with my mom - who was already here) meant seven people cramped into our house for three months.  There was not a lot of time or space to turn on the stereo.

I've been picking up my listening pace over the last week.  I've meant to restart Coronavinyl for even longer.  Since it all began with a post following the death of John Prine, it only made sense to me this afternoon to restart it following the loss of Jerry Jeff Walker.

Walker's Collectibles is certainly not Jerry Jeff's most popular record.  As far as I can tell, it has never been reissued on CD (no small feat at this point!) and is not available digitally.  To take it all in, you're going to need to find a used vinyl copy.  Luckily, that shouldn't set you back more than a few buckaroos.

Walker's Collectibles probably isn't Jerry Jeff's best record, either.  But I'll be damned if it isn't my favorite.  It's a ramshackle parade of everything Jerry Jeff and his backing Lost Gonzo Band had to offer -- Dixieland swingers, Texas tearjerkers, CCR-meets-Stonesy rockers, and drunken a-cappella gospel messes.  There's so much going on that I can see how it's overlooked.  But I love it all so much.

The biggest reason I've pulled this record out of my shelves so frequently over the years is the raucous version of David Blue's "I Like to Sleep Late in the Morning."

I used to have a once-a-month DJ night at The King and I Thai, which was an incredible lounge situated in the basement level of an apartment building on the outskirts of downtown Minneapolis.  Some of the best memories of my late twenties go something like this: three hours of playing my records, endless free drinks, and putting on a ten-minute James Brown song so I had time to devour the most delicious green curry on the planet.  (Or at least the upper Midwest.)  Then, after last call, I'd drop the needle on "I Like to Sleep Late in the Morning" and crank the volume as the lights inside the restaurant turned on.  Then I'd drunkenly lug a thirty-pound box of records for around four blocks to my future wife's Loring Park apartment.

I like to sleep late in the morning

I don't like to wear no shoes

Make love to the women while I'm livin'

Get drunk on a bottle of booze

Jerry Jeff represented the closing credits in those mini-movies of my life.  I don't really know if anyone else was watching.  I tend to over-romanticize nostalgia.  Even nostalgia that I didn't experience.  When I look at the photos on the front and back covers of Jerry Jeff's albums while listening to the party atmosphere so present in his music, it's not hard to place myself right in the middle of a jam-session in a 1974 Texas roadhouse.  Yet, I've never even been to Texas.

Thanks the all the great records, Mr. Walker.  Sleep as late as you want.

About my copy:
MCA 450

Purchased used while working at the ol' store.  I couldn't help but to buy every decent condition Jerry Jeff Walker record that came through the door, even if we already had too many copies in overstock.  Someone was going to need them eventually.

GRANT GREEN - Feelin' the Spirit

Grant Green
Feelin' the Spirit
Blue Note, 1963

This impulse-buy add-on to an order I placed with Euclid Records in St. Louis arrived yesterday.

Just in time to try to soothe me while my city burns.

Really beautiful takes on traditional spirituals.  I had never heard this album before, but I'm glad it's here now.

About my copy:
DOL 1036
2013 180 gram Euro reissue.

THE STAPLE SINGERS - Will the Circle Be Unbroken?

The Staple Singers
Will the Circle Be Unbroken?
Vee Jay, 1960

Hi.  It has been six days since I last created an entry on this blog, but I can assure you I've been listening to a lot of music in the interim. 

In fact, music has been essential in dealing with the heartbreak and helplessness I have been feeling.

My city is burning.  Another unarmed black man has been murdered by police.  There is no justice.  There is no peace.

Part of me wanted to be there last night, but nothing good would have come from that.  Instead, I watched the news.  I wept.  My nine year old daughter sat down and watched with me.  I didn't say much.  Neither did she.  We just watched.  I asked if she wanted to talk, or if she had any questions.  She didn't, but I think she will.  She's a processor.  She knows that George Floyd was murdered four blocks down Chicago Ave from her cousins' house. 

I have listened to a lot of music this week.  I have listened to Public Enemy to channel my anger.  I have listened to Marvin Gaye to search for peace, love, and understanding.  I have listened to Lee Bains III & The Glory Fires to inspire community and feel the power of rock 'n' roll.  I have listened to much more.  I simply have not yet found the right words or enough time to write about them on my silly blog.

I managed to get a few restless hours of sleep last night.  Then I awoke to my four year old son calling out to me that he had an accident.  (Wet the bed.)  I gotta give it to him.  There's nothing quite like hosing down one's progeny, collecting soiled sheets, and smelling stuffed dinosaurs for residual piss to shake one's reality to the here and now.

Once things calmed down on the homefront, I put on the Staple Singers.  I think I wanted some peace.  This record usually does the trick.  But there's only so much it can do.  When there's no justice, there's no peace.

Say his name.

GEORGE FLOYD

About my copy:
Vee Jay LP 5008
Trashed copy rescued from a dollar bin.  Many scratches.  Surface noise at the beginning of each side.  It doesn't skip, though.  I don't even know if I'd want this record any other way.

BUILT TO SPILL - There's Nothing Wrong With Love

Built to Spill
There's Nothing Wrong With Love
Up, 1994

I'm not a huge Built to Spill fan, but I am a massive fan of There's Nothing Wrong With Love.  It is as essential of a '90s indie rock album as exists.

I can remember the first time I heard "Big Dipper" (which was also the first time I heard Built to Spill).  It was during a beautiful fall afternoon, early in my wonderful junior year of high school.  I was driving my mom's red GMC Jimmy, waiting patiently in line to escape my school's parking lot, when REV 105 introduced the song.  Within a couple of weeks, There's Nothing Wrong With Love was one of my favorite CDs.

I didn't see Built to Spill live until a couple years later, when they were on tour for their next album Perfect From Now On.  I didn't love that record as much, and the live experience ruined them for me.  I remember the show being painfully long.  They probably played for over and hour but only seemed to get in about five or six songs.  There was a whole lot of guitar wanking and the band wasn't even too tight.  While it's fair to wonder how much more I would have enjoyed the show at my current age, that nineteen year old in attendance thought it was one of the worst shows he ever saw.

I never bought another Built to Spill record or went to another Built to Spill show again.

But when I found out There's Nothing Wrong With Love was finally getting reissued on vinyl, I could hardly contain myself.  Because through all of the previous twenty years I maintained that even though the band was overrated and not my thing, this one album was a masterpiece.  For those two decades, I was hard-pressed to make a mix tape for someone new without including "Car."  That song or "Reasons" or "Distopian Dream Girl" would regularly lodge themselves in my head out of thin air.  To me, it is a timeless album.

Indeed, it was a big deal for me when I was finally able to pick this up on vinyl upon the 2015 reissue.

I'll tell you something else, too.  It might just be the pandemic talking, but I could really go for a Built to Spill concert right about now.  (Support your live music venues!)

About my copy:
UP 006
2015 reissue on cream colored vinyl.

WAYLON JENNINGS - Will the Wolf Survive

Waylon Jennings
Will the Wolf Survive
MCA, 1986

May 17 was the fifth anniversary of the day my dad passed away.  This post is for him.

My dad gave me a lot.  Food, shelter, unconditional love.  Wide feet, stubborn disposition, off-color sense of humor.  Waylon Goddamn Jennings.

Backstory and sentiment are important disclaimers when I explain my love for Will the Wolf Survive.  While it is nowhere near the worst Waylon album, it's also a pretty far cry from his best.  It absolutely sticks out as one of his most unique records.

Will the Wolf Survive was Waylon's first album for MCA records following over two decades of recording for RCA.  He was sober and years removed from both his critical and commercial peaks.  He didn't play any guitar on the album, nor did he write any of the songs.  He did, however, give his richest vocal performance in years.  And he did it against a then-modern digital, synth-driven production.  It sounds dated now, but maybe that's why it stirs up such strong memories of the late '80s when I listen to the album today.

My dad purchased our family's first CD player around Christmas-time 1988, when I was eleven years old.  Each member of the family purchased one CD to go along with it.  I can't remember what my mom or my brother picked out, but I know that I chose Def Leppard's Pyromania and my dad bought Will the Wolf Survive.

I'm a little foggy on if there was also a CD player in the GMC Suburban my dad also bought around that time.  Perhaps he bought the album on cassette as well.  Either way, I remember riding with him, his window cracked just enough to direct the flow of smoke from his Marlboro Lights, but not enough to filter out the smell.  He would hum along with the tune of his favorite songs, and occasionally croon along to the chorus.  He had other Waylon CDs and tapes, but Will the Wolf Survive was the one that was always playing.

In hindsight, it makes sense.  Will the Wolf Survive was the album Waylon needed to make after getting clean.  By relenting on the "Nashville Rebel" persona he embodied and the fierce creative control he had fought for throughout the '70s, this album was Waylon's admission that he needed help.  He needed a fresh start.  Thus, the new label, new producer (Jimmy Bowen), and new sound.  And it worked.  It was his first album to hit number one on the country charts in six years.

The songs that best reflect where Waylon was at the time (and two of the best songs on the record) were the Los Lobos cover title track and "Working Without a Net."  Not coincidentally, those are the songs to which I can most vividly hear my dad singing along.  For in them, I think he connected more meaningfully than I can truly understand.

Dad fought alcoholism his whole life.  He first got sober in 1981.  There are pictures of him presenting me with my fourth birthday present - a real acoustic guitar - from his room at his treatment facility.  He remained sober for about five or six years before slipping.  From then on, it was always a struggle.  He could go months at a time without having a drop, then he'd go on a bender.  Then he'd pick up the fight again.  He needed to keep his family.  He needed to survive.  He was the wolf Waylon was singing about.

At some point in the late nineties, Dad's vehicle was broken into while he was parked at his office.  All that was taken was his CD wallet.  Since he still had all the jewel cases at home, it was pretty easy for us to make a list of what was taken.  Some were expendable.  Those that he wanted to replace were done so pretty easily.  Except for the most important one.  Will the Wolf Survive had gone out of print.  Used copies were routinely selling on eBay for $50 apiece.  I eventually found a used vinyl copy at Roadrunner Records, but it wasn't really a suitable placeholder for him.  It took a while, but I was able to find a replacement CD for him online for only about twenty bucks.  I then took the vinyl copy I had bought him and placed it in my own collection.

While Dad was going through the process of replacing his stolen CDs, he started shopping at pawn shops.  He found replacements for a bunch of his discs in those joints.  It didn't even matter to him if the discs he found didn't include jewel cases, since he already had those at home.

His flirtation with pawn shops didn't last for too long, but to me it's a kind of hilarious example of his propensity to dive into new hobbies.

Among his other phases:

• He and my mom started collecting Dept 56 Snow Village buildings.  Soon they were buying new shelving units and making elaborate displays for them all over their living room, entry way, and basement.
• At some point after retirement, he decided he really liked Starbucks coffee.  Completely out of nowhere.  Anytime my future wife and I would go visit them shortly after we started dating, he would gather us into his truck and drive us and my mom up the road to Starbucks to buy coffee for everyone.  I think it was really about finding a common interest with us.  And even though my wife and I were not really Starbucks people, I love that we shared that activity with him for a bit, before he started getting sick.
• Around the same time as the coffee thing, or maybe a little later, he became a fan of wine.  When he wasn't dry, he could always manage his alcoholism reasonably enough as long as he was sticking to beer.  It was when he started getting into vodka that things tended to spiral.  In all the time I was growing up and we were dealing with that, though, I never knew him to be a wine guy.  My wife and I enjoyed having wine whenever we would go out with them in our early years, and in that I think he found another way to connect with us.  He also found a way to enjoy a little alcohol without getting hammered, so that was convenient.    But he was like a mischievous little boy when we would visit him after that.  He started buying Three-Buck Chuck from Trader Joe's by the case.  I recently checked and there are still a bunch of bottles in the liquor cabinet at my mom's house.  (And yes, I know it may sound like we enabled an addict.  And to an extent I suppose we did.  But shortly after this he battled cancer and then a stroke, among other health issues.  It only seemed humane to let him have something.)

If someone's asking me for Waylon recommendations, there are at least ten albums I'd suggest before Will the Wolf Survive.   There are simply better records.  This one is a decent record with a couple of great songs, a couple of turds, and weird production.

But, warts and all, it's personal to me.  It's my dad's record.  It's the key to unlocking memories from my childhood through my wedding.  This record is ingrained in my soul.  

About my copy:
MCA 5688
Purchased used from Roadrunner Records for my dad, then adopted into my own collection after I found a CD copy for him.

THELONIOUS MONK - Monk.

Thelonious Monk
Monk.
Columbia, 1965

For all the grayness in the sky, today has somewhat surprisingly turned into a very pleasant and calming day.  Big assist for that goes to Monk.

I am a firm believer that anytime you see a Thelonious Monk record you don't own -- any Monk record -- you should purchase it.  When my wife and I were brainstorming baby names for our son, I threw Thelonious into the mix.  She may still be under the impression I was joking.

This was one of the first two Monk records I bought.  I picked up Monk. and Straight, No Chaser at a garage sale in the suburbs north of Minneapolis, probably around twenty years ago.  I hadn't heard Monk's music before, but I knew the name.  I was curious and when I stumbled upon these two records for a couple bucks apiece, I figured it was a worthy gamble.

That garage sale was the kind you dream about.  It's one of my answers to the "If you had a time machine, where would you go?" game.  I'd go back to that garage sale and scoop up all the great jazz, blues, and folk records I fantasize that I may have seen there but passed on.  All I'm missing is the exact date and location.  Well... and the time machine.  Monk. stood out to me right away.  Because just look at that cover.

I've listened to this album twice today.  First was through my phone while I spoiled myself with an extra long, hot shower.  That set a peaceful tone for today.

Second was when I returned home from running a few mid-afternoon errands in anticipation of my son's fourth birthday tomorrow.  My wife and kids had gone off on their own adventure and my mom was in her bedroom, on the phone with my brother.  I quietly put on the vinyl and coolly did the dishes and took out the trash.  It was beautiful.

It's the little things.

About my copy:
Columbia CS 9091
Decent condition stereo pressing found at a suburban garage sale many years ago.

BLEACHED - Don't You Think You've Had Enough?

Bleached
Don't You Think You've Had Enough?
Dead Oceans, 2019

Yesterday was a Minnesota spring stunner.

It had been a pretty dreary week leading up... chilly, wet... a complete street reconstruction getting underway right in front of our house.  Then came news that I've been dreading -- Minnesota is caving to pressure from idiots to prematurely re-open the state.

That means I'll probably have to go back to work soon.  In retail.  In a mall.  In a time where the people who are likely the most careless with COVID-19 are also most likely the ones who will feel the need to venture out for "non-essential" shopping.  While my wife, who contracts for Feeding America, has been getting full-time work-from-home hours during the pandemic, I have become a full-time caregiver for our two kids and my elderly mother, who we moved into our house in mid-March after she fell and fractured her pelvis at her home.

I start to think about how I'm not eager to get back to that public work environment, and suddenly I'm overwhelmed with guilt.  My boss is a dear friend.  He's generous and fair to his employees.  He has done so much for me and the family over the past few years.  I feel a responsibility to not bail on him.  (Which I won't.)

Yesterday arrived just in time to help soften any downward spiral.  The sun was bright and warm.  The wind was soft, just enough to pleasantly carry the scent of our next-door neighbor's pink flowery tree across the deck.  The sun-soaked glammy power pop punk rock 'n' roll of Bleached sounded so good.

Music is therapy.  When I can find the perfect record to complement both my mental and physical environment, it's pretty special.  Today's a repeat of yesterday, without a cloud in the sky.  Rain is on the way tomorrow.  Maybe I'll play some more Bleached later on.  Or maybe something with a similar vibe.  Whatever I get a chance to play today, it'll be sunny.  After all, one look at the calendar and I know there are some heavy dates ahead.

About my copy:
Dead Oceans DOC185
Limited cream vinyl version!

 

STEVIE WONDER - Music of My Mind

Stevie Wonder
Music of My Mind
Tamla, 1972

When I checked in with the world this morning, I learned that today is Stevie Wonder's 70th birthday.  I had to look it up for myself.  I couldn't believe he's only 70!  I guess it's easy to forget that he started recording for Motown before he was a teenager.

I decided to listen to Music of My Mind this morning specifically because I don't know it as well as the incredible albums that followed.  It's a very good album.  More than that, it's an incredibly significant album, as it was the first one after Stevie took a page from Marvin Gaye and took full creative control of his work.  Talking Book, Innervisions, and Songs in the Key of Life don't happen without this step.  (Also, I've always thought this album cover looks so cool.)

While Music of My Mind is light on uptempo jams to get the whole house moving, that actually worked well today.  It's a rainy day.  The kids were doing their thing in the next room.  It was nice to put on a pretty chill record at a low volume while drinking my morning coffee.

Happy 70th, Stevie!  Here's hoping for many more!

About my copy:
Tamla T 314L
Pretty nice vintage copy, except for the sides being mislabeled.  That gets annoying!

JERRY LEE LEWIS - Original Golden Hits Vol. 1

Jerry Lee Lewis
Original Golden Hits - Volume 1
Sun, 1969

With Little Richard's passing, I realized that Jerry Lee Lewis is somehow the last standing '50s rock 'n' roll pioneer.  Who would have thought?  After listening to a lot of Little Richard on Saturday, I needed to listen to Jerry Lee on Sunday (which was also Mother's Day).

The need to listen to Jerry Lee Lewis is nothing new.  I've been a fan since I first heard "Great Balls of Fire" when I was a pre-schooler.

Exhibit A:
My mom's copy of the Sun Records compilation Original Golden Hits - Volume 1.

Note the child's handwriting on the front cover.  This could very well be the earliest surviving example of my handwriting.  I was probably four years old when I tried claiming this in ink from my parents' records.  I'm proud of the consideration I showed in making sure my mom's name was written on the jacket along with mine.

My kids like to ask me to tell stories from when I was a little boy.  It's hard to come up with new ones on the spot, but this is a good one for next time they ask.  My earliest memories are from the house in St. Louis Park, Minnesota where my family lived until just after my fifth birthday.

I was absolutely obsessed with the family's library of 8-track tapes.  I organized and reorganized them.  Over and over.  I would take a tape with me wherever I would go.  There is documentation in family photo albums.  Mom would stage pictures of my brother and me on the couch.  He would be holding some stuffed animal or truck or otherwise appropriate toy for a toddler.  I would be holding a couple of 8-tracks.  My favorites were Joe Sun's Old Flames (which became such an obnoxious obsession for my parents that they had to "lose" the tape at some point) and Jerry Lee's self-titled 1979 Elektra album.

I had forgotten about the latter until recently.  Seeing its cover brought me back.  Specifically, it brought me to sitting on my grandpa's chair at my grandparents' house on 50th and Logan in south Minneapolis.  It may have been Christmas Eve.  I don't remember anything else about that night, but I remember sitting in that chair, holding and staring at my Jerry Lee Lewis tape.

That triggered another memory, of when I first attempted liberation of Original Golden Hits - Volume 1 from my parents.  I can't place the date, but I remember putting this record onto my Superman portable record player, obsessively moving the needle back to listen to "Great Balls of Fire" over and over, and writing my name on the cover.  Along with my mom's.

About my copy:
SUN 102
Originally marked from my mom's record collection approximately 1981.  Officially procured from her house at some point in my mid-20s.

LITTLE RICHARD - Little Richard

Little Richard
Little Richard
Specialty, 1958

Sadly, there's nothing random about the first record on the turntable today.  This has already been a brutal year of loss.  To wake up to the news that Little Richard no longer walks the earth is devastating.

Fortunately, his music is forever.  As sad as his passing is, I can not help but smile and move! as I crank the volume.  Of all the rock 'n' roll pioneers, he was the one with the most bravado, the most style, and the most soul.  He was the one who really made rock 'n' roll dangerous!  There will never be another.  Thank you for everything, Little Richard!

About my copy:
Specialty SP 2103
Reissue from an unknown date.  Looks to be '70s, possibly '80s.

CAMPER VAN BEETHOVEN - Key Lime Pie

Camper Van Beethoven
Key Lime Pie
Virgin, 1989

Holiday Plus was a massive all-in-one store near the house where I grew up in Plymouth, Minnesota.  It was our family's grocery store for quite a while, but it also had a bunch of clothing and home goods, as well as a great toy department, and a massive sporting goods area.  It was like an ahead-if-its-time Super Target meets Cabela's.  Or Fleet Farm with full groceries.

They also had a killer cutout bin in the music department.  I bought my first Clash tape (US version of the first album) and my first Replacements tape (All Shook Down) from them.  I also bought my first copy of Key Lime Pie there, on cassette, sound unheard circa 1991.  All I knew of Camper Van Beethoven was that this album had been listed in the Modern Rock section of the Columbia House catalog.  And it was the only interesting looking tape in the cutout bin that day.

I don't think I had any idea what to make of it at the time.  I kinda dug a couple of songs.  A lot of it was over my thirteen year old head.  Still, surreal song titles like "(I Was Born in a) Laundromat" definitely appealed to my developing, pseudo-intellectual adolescent sense of humor.

Plus I had spent four bucks of my own money on a tape, so I was for damn sure going listen to it as frequently as it would take to convince myself that I truly liked it.  (Remember, that's how we did in those days.)

It has continued to grow on me ever since then.  For damn near thirty years now, it's a record that I seem to like a little bit more with each listen.

It was probably about seven or eight years ago, when the beauty of the third song "Sweethearts" bowled me over.  I had owned the record in some form for over twenty years, meaning I had heard the song dozens of times.  But on this particular day, on a sunny weekday afternoon in my old house in southwest Minneapolis, I realized that this ode to Ronald Reagan's fading psyche was one of my absolute favorite songs.

Side two is really good, but side one is should've been a hit after should've been a hit.  My realization today is that "Sweethearts" into "When I Win the Lottery" into ""(I Was Born in a) Laundromat" into "Borderline" is one of the best four-song sequences in my record collection.

About my copy:
Virgin 91289
Original US pressing with hype sticker, cutout notch and gold promo stamp on jacket.  Missing the insert.  I seem to recall finding this dirt cheap at the old Cheapo used vinyl store on Lake Street and Grand Avenue in the mid '90s.

LA PESTE - La Peste

La Peste
La Peste
Matador, 1996

La Peste was a late '70s Boston punk band who released one classic single ("Better Off Dead") before dissolving.  In 1996, Matador Records issued all known audio documents of the band on an eponymous collection.  

Of course, I didn't know anything about them when promo-marked copies of La Peste's retrospective were plentiful in used CD bins across the Twin Cities in the late nineties.   Based on the chic-sounding name, massive used inventory, and well-known record label, I think I assumed they were a modern indie-rock band that simply didn't take.  I never investigated or thought much more about it.

About a decade later, I was working a Saturday afternoon shift at the record store with the late, great Minneapolis legend Terry Katzman.  Terry worked one Saturday per month, on average, with me.  He was always so excited for his monthly record store shift, and he came prepared.  He usually brought a briefcase full of music with him.  Sometimes it was stuff he was bringing in to trade or sell.  Sometimes it was stuff he had picked out to listen to at work.  (Sometimes he would even bring in a vintage, unheard-to-anyone-else live Hüsker Dü tape, from his massive archive.)

On this particular day, Terry brought in his La Peste CD.  About ten seconds into "Better Off Dead," I was converted.  "Terry, what the fuck is this?!" I (probably) asked.  And that's how I got my La Peste education from the rock 'n' roll professor.

I quickly found a cheap used copy of the CD to hold me over, but what I really wanted was to own one of Matador's vinyl pressings of the album.  Those were much tougher to find.  Bacchus Archives reissued the "Better Off Dead" single in 2006, which was nice.  I eventually picked up my copy of the LP on Discogs.

La Peste begins with the studio version of "Better Off Dead."  The rest of side one, and the bulk of the record, is taken from a live radio broadcast.  Thankfully the broadcast is of high quality, as its the only preserved audio for most of these songs.

Side two begins with a live version of "Better Off Dead" in hyperdrive.  The middle of the side contains the rest of the band's limited studio material, including a few tracks produced by The Cars frontman and fellow Bostonian Ric Ocasek, featuring Greg Hawkes on keyboards.

Despite the mixed studio and live assembly, La Peste plays with great continuity.  It's not too difficult to imagine an alternate universe where La Peste stuck together for a few years and some studio albums and are mentioned alongside the Wipers and Hüsker Dü as one of America's great early melodic punk bands.

Fun side notes:

• It's purely coincidental that today's Coronavinyl listen is La Peste - a band who took its name from an Albert Camus novel that translates in English to "The Plague."
• In either 2005 or 2006, I accidentally joined a free fantasy baseball league on Yahoo with a few Matador luminaries.  I had been searching for a league, found one called the Charlie Kerfeld Memorial League (named after the tubby, bespectacled, mullet and single earring sporting Houston Astros relief pitcher from the mid '80s), so naturally I had to join.  I then noticed that names of other owners in the league included Pavement's Stephen Malkmus, Matador founder Gerard Cosloy, and Endless Boogie's Jesper Eklow.  I alerted my buddy Mark - a huge Pavement fan - and he also joined.  At one point the middle of the season, Cosloy hit me up for a trade.  I had kept quiet all season on knowing who those guys were until then, when I replied by saying something to the extent of, "Maybe if you thrown in a vinyl copy of the La Peste album!"  (I think he replied with a version of "ha ha," but we didn't consummate a trade and I didn't get a record.)
• Malkmus defeated me in that league's championship game.  It was probably meant to be -- I've tried many times over the years, but for whatever reason have never been able to get into Pavement.

About my copy:
Matador OLE 189
According to my Discogs purchase history, I finally tracked it down at a decent price in 2015.  It now appears to be selling for at least twice as much as I paid.

BOB DYLAN - John Wesley Harding

Bob Dylan
John Wesley Harding

Columbia, 1968

John Wesley Harding was the third Dylan record I bought.  First came a used vinyl copy of The Freewheelin' Bob Dylan.  That was followed by Time Out of Mind on CD.  It took a good while for John Wesley Harding to really hit me, but it has steadily become one of my favorite Dylan records.

I think this is one of the most unique and instantly recognizable Dylan albums.  Coming off the rock records and the recordings that would become The Basement Tapes, heading into the country of Nashville Skyline, this was a return to acoustic folk music, but something new and almost extraterrestrial.

My Dylan album hierarchy depends so much on my mood.  John Wesley Harding is easily in the top ten.  Maybe even top five.  It certainly sounds worthy this evening.

As an aside, while everyone knows and justifiably loves Hendrix's version of "All Along the Watchtower," one of my favorite under-the-radar Dylan covers is also of a John Wesley Harding song.  Mira Billotte's version of "As I Went Out One Morning" is one of the real gems of the I'm Not There soundtrack.  I'll have to cover that someday.

About my copy:
Columbia CS 9604
Can't remember where I got this.  I think it may have been Roadrunner, late '90s.  Maybe even Cheapo.  The record is still a stunning and shiny "two-eye" label stereo pressing.  Condition-wise, it's one of my nicer classic Dylan records.

JAWBREAKER - Dear You

Jawbreaker
Dear You
DGC, 1995

September 1995 was my final month as a minor.  It was a pretty crazy month, with no small amount of changes and uncertainty.

I was having the time of my life playing bass in a band I loved.  But our guitar player moved away to start college in Wisconsin.

I was in love with my high school girlfriend.  But she was a year ahead of me, and moved away to start college in Michigan.

I was beginning my senior year of high school, but was feeling very alone while there.  One of my best friends was still there, but he was spending a lot of time with his girlfriend.  My other best friend had dropped out during junior year (and was also spending a lot of time with his girlfriend).  In fact, most of the other people I had hung out with for the previous three years had either graduated, changed schools, or dropped out.

I was the editor of the school newspaper, which had won some awards.  I felt like a big shot with my own VIP hideout in the journalism office, and I took great pride in my work there.  But I was completely checked out from the rest of my classes, and high school in general.  I had no interest in pursuing college.  All I wanted to do was hang out at 24-hour chain diners with my older rock 'n' roll friends, drink coffee, play in my band, and dream of putting out records and going on tour.

And my favorite band was set to release a new album.  But it was going to be on a major label.  Which meant they were SELLOUTS!

I didn't care much about that.  Jawbreaker had become a religion to me over the previous two years.  To this day, I'm almost irrationally loyal to the artists I love.  Even when they put out inferior work, I always find myself listening over and over, trying to find the good in it.  Trying to convince myself that it's good.

I never had that problem with Dear You.  A lot of older Jawbreaker fans did.  People hated it.  It was slick, with a pro producer and big studio sheen.  It wasn't PUNK.  Then again, neither was Blake Schwarzenbach.  He couldn't have stated it more plainly than on previous album 24 Hour Revenge Therapy's scene-baiting anthem "Boxcar" ("You're not punk and I'm telling everyone / Save your breath, I never was one").  I wasn't really punk, either.  I was a suburban teenager with delusions of grandeur.

I bought my first copy of Dear You on compact disc.  Cheapo Records in the Ridge Square strip mall in Minnetonka stayed open until midnight every night, which made it a frequent late-night destination while cruising the western suburbs.  And on Monday nights, they would stay open for an extra half-hour.  They would put out all of Tuesday's new releases at midnight.  I was one week into my senior year when I drove a car full of friends, out past curfew, to grab our copies of the long-awaited new Jawbreaker album.

It was different, but I loved the record right away.  It wasn't so much about the new, bigger sound.  For me, it was always about the lyrics.  And Blake was my Dylan.  A few weeks after buying the CD, I decided I had to own it on vinyl, too.  When I bought this copy at Cheapo's St. Paul location, it very possibly marked the first time that I bought a record brand new on two different formats.

At 42, I see how silly that might appear in trying to explain the appeal of the band to someone around my age who didn't grow up with them.  To the angsty, introverted teens who were there at the time, though?  Jawbreaker was just different.  They mattered.

Senior year got better.  I made some new friends at school -- many who I still consider my closest friends to this day.  We found a new lead guitarist and new drummer for my band and started the most fun and productive period of our existence.  And I made the first solo long-distance road trips of my life, driving to Michigan's Upper Peninsula to visit my girlfriend.  Jawbreaker was with me every step of the way.

Then things got worse for awhile.  I got dumped.  And that sucked.  But my friends were there for me.  My band was there for me.   "Accident Prone," "Jet Black," and so many other Jawbreaker songs were there for me.

I still advertised Jawbreaker as my favorite band well into my twenties, long after they had broken up.  I don't remember when that went away.  I suppose as I got older, other albums and other songs simply started taking over.

Today was the first time I sat down with Dear You in a long time, but every note and every word came back to me.  It still sounded good, too.

About my copy:
DGC 24831
Original pressing on blue marble vinyl.  Purchased new at Cheapo in St. Paul, Minnesota shortly after release in 1995.  A few days prior to that, I purchased the CD at midnight on its release date in September 1995 at Cheapo in Minnetonka, Minnesota.

VARIOUS ARTISTS - C'est Chic!

Various Artists
C'est Chic! French Girl Singers of the 1960s
Ace, 2013

This record has been a crowd-pleaser in our house ever since I brought it home, shortly after its release in 2013.  It was a staple at parties, back when we could host parties.  It has probably been one of the ten most-played records on our turntable over the last five years (at least as long as we're not counting my daughter's Katy Perry and Taylor Swift records).

C'est Chic! is, as the title implies, an excellent overview of French yé-yé girl pop.  It's a wonderfully fun listen, and serves equally well as an introduction to French pop for newbies and an all-killer, no-filler mix for superfans.

The twelve-song LP is an abridged version of a 24-track CD Ace released around the same time.  I keep waiting for another volume to come out on vinyl.  But I should probably forget about that and dig further into the catalog of the individual artists.

That reminds me, I need to pick up those France Gall reissues that Third Man recently released.

About my copy:
Ace HIQLP 005
180 gram blonde marble vinyl pressing.

WILLIE NELSON - Tougher Than Leather

Willie Nelson
Tougher Than Leather
Columbia, 1983

Happy belated birthday, Willie!

I didn't get around to listening to any Willie Nelson on his actual 87th birthday earlier this week, so I pulled out my Willie records today and told my son to pick one out.  Of course he went for the one with the embossed jacket.

I'm of the opinion that there's no such thing as a bad Willie Nelson album.  I can listen to him sing the phonebook.  But there were few great Willie records in the '80s.  Tougher Than Leather is... eh.  Fine.

It's fine.  It's not great.  It's not terrible.  It's kind of an anomaly in that it's a straight country record full of Willie originals.  This was during a period when Willie was releasing an album every few months, but they were mostly duet records, soundtracks, or pop standards.

I have had this record for years and haven't listened to it often.  (Why would I when there are so many superior Willie options?)  But it's Willie and it's fine.  I do love Willie.

About my copy:
Columbia QC 38248
Minty copy with embossed cover.