THE FLAMING STARS - A Walk on the Wired Side

The Flaming Stars
A Walk on the Wired Side
Vinyl Japan, 2000

Every worthwhile record store employee can smugly relate to the scene in High Fidelity when Rob (John Cusack) confidently announces to co-worker Dick (Todd Louiso), "I will now sell five copies of The Three E.P.'s by The Beta Band."

Speaking from experience, there were few record store thrills greater than selling something directly off the stereo.  I found it so exciting to turn a customer onto their new favorite band.  More often than just about anybody else, the Flaming Stars were my Beta Band.

Formed in the mid-nineties by journalist, author, and ex-Gallon Drunk drummer Max Décharné, the Flaming Stars released four albums, a boatload of singles, and were favorites of legendary BBC DJ John Peel before any of their material made it to the USA.  Alternative Tentacles, in hindsight, was an odd label to release a compilation (Ginmill Perfume) of highlights from the Flaming Stars first half-decade.  At the time, Alternative Tentacles was typically issuing political hardcore, crust-punk, and Jello Biafra spoken-word albums.  Little else on the label hinted at the suave garage rock/spaghetti western/torch song fireball of hipness that Décharné and crew provided.  I thought they were the coolest band I had heard, and sought out the complete back catalog.

There's of course no way to gauge, but I have to wonder if I personally sold more Flaming Stars records per capita than any other record slinger in the Western Hemisphere.  I played them constantly.  When I played them, I sold them.  I was a one-man marketing team.  At least until we hired one of our favorite customers Neil to pick up some part-time hours.

Of everyone I turned onto the Flaming Stars, Neil bit the hardest.  When I tracked down remaining UK import vinyl stock of their albums from fringe distributors, he and I were the two who bought them all.  He played them in the store almost as often as I did, and probably sold a good number of their records himself.

Around the time I was exiting record store life, Neil was selling all of his belongings and leaving Minneapolis to live on a boat in the Florida Keys.  This included all of his vinyl.  I was seriously considering starting a record store of my own and figured I could use the inventory, so I bought his remaining collection.  My record store dream never happened (or hasn't yet), but I did manage to unload most of what I bought from Neil.

With Neil at his going-away party in 2014.

Except for his Flaming Stars records.  I couldn't bring myself to sell those.  Why?  I'm not exactly a collector who needs multiple copies of the same record, but it did feel really important to me to have backup copies of the Flaming Stars records, just in case anything ever happened to mine.  Or maybe I figured someday I'd turn somebody else on to the band in the same way and would then find a deserving owner.  Whatever the reasons, Neil's Flaming Stars records sat in a storage bin in my basement for about nine years.

Over the years, Neil has occasionally returned to Minneapolis for quick visits, and has typically sent out last-minute Facebook group messages (like some sadist) to the old store crew to see if anyone wants to get beers and play pinball.  I think in all that time I had seen him once, when his visit happened to coincide with a Dexateens show at Grumpy's.

Two months ago, he sent out another such message.  "I'm going to be in town for a day if anyone wants to hang."  This time, it worked out.  I met him at the C.C. Club for some day beers.  We swapped war stories, each talked about our new loves, and I found out that he's been buying vinyl again.  I genuinely love the guy.  Reconnecting felt great.

A week later, I remembered that I still had all of Neil's Flaming Stars records.  Now that he has records again, this seemed like a huge injustice that I could make right.  While they're not terribly valuable, they are very hard to find -- especially in the States.  I texted him for his address.  I mailed him five Flaming Stars records.  

This is a feeling far greater than selling something off the turntable at the record store.  This is guiding sacred artifacts back to their proper home.

About my copy:
ASKLP121
Ordered for the store I used to manage after a long search to find a US distributor who carried Vinyl Japan titles.  I bought a copy.  Neil bought a copy.  Not sure who else bought copies.  But this one is mine.  This is my favorite of the Flaming Stars seven studio albums.

H.C. McENTIRE - Every Acre

Note #1: Wow! Over thirteen months have passed since I last wrote about records on this dumb ol' blog!  When I had my September 2022 posting burst, I was beginning adjustment to a new life.  Then, before I knew it, I fell in love!  Somehow, even though my amazing girlfriend of 13 months (and counting!) loves my writing, I stopped.  How cruel, right?!  Anyway, this is a long time coming.  This first post is for you, S.  

Note #2: If I am going to keep up with this site -- I guess we'll see, won't we? -- I thought a good starting point would be to start a recap of my favorite records of 2023.  It's still a bit early to finalize my annual Top 10 List, but that list is a big deal for me.  Without further adieu, here's the first release of the year that hit me in every place that counts...

H.C. McEntire
Every Acre
Merge, 2023

Falling in love is a dizzying experience.  I had forgotten.  It's intense and terrifying and whimsical and intoxicating.  It's wonderful.  When it's best, it takes one out of their element, and does so enthusiastically.  

It is with this head full of steam that I purchased front row tickets for two Neko Case concerts in two different cities in a state I had never visited, over three months into the future, to go to with someone who I had known for about three weeks.

When you know, you know.

But I had no way of knowing how perfect every aspect that three day trip from Minneapolis to North Carolina in the dead of winter would turn out.  Every second of it was fucking magical.

We awoke in our Wilmington hotel room on the final morning of the trip, ready to hop in the rental car for a three-and-a-half hour drive back to Charlotte to catch our flight home.  We had maybe an hour or two to kill before we needed to start the trek, and we needed good coffee.  I may have Googled Wilmington record stores the night before and found the Gravity Records Instagram.  I had no realistic hope of record shopping at 8 AM, but I did see one of their recent posts that was shouting out their next-door-neighbor coffee shop Luna Caffe.  So off we went, driving down a street where every car was curiously parked with its right-side wheels up on the curb (never did find a consensus answer about that), until we turned right on Castle Street and properly let the coffee gods replenish our veins.

While sitting in the cafe, staring lovingly at each other in disbelief that (A) we actually did this and (B) now we had to go home, we noticed people were actually walking into the record store next door!  At 9:00 in the morning!  We record shopped after all!

Gravity is a very cool store.  S quickly found herself in conversation with the owner Matt about dogs, as if they were old friends (it's how she does) while I browsed the racks.  I found some great used records which they graciously volunteered to ship home to me.  As we were leaving, I noticed a poster advertising a H.C. McEntire record release in-store performance later that very night.  Matt told us that Heather (H.C.) was an old friend of the shop and that the new record was really great and we should check it out.  Shortly after starting our drive back, I dialed it up on Spotify and was completely blown away.  I wanted to go back!  For a lot of reasons, really, but also specifically to see the show.

I can't say why I wasn't already familiar with Heather McEntire's music.  In hindsight, it makes no sense.  I hadn't put it together that she was the front-person in Mount Moriah, who I had heard and had liked a bit, but hadn't spent enough time with (or hadn't spent the right time with) to feel the pull.  This is her third solo album on Merge Records, though, and I love just about everything on Merge, so that I somehow had let two previous albums slip past my radar is on me.  The only defense I have is that I wasn't listening to much of anything new for several years.

The opening folk-rock strums of "New View" hooked me and, just a couple seconds later, McEntire's gorgeous voice -- sometimes a dead ringer for Dolly Parton, sometimes something more raw -- reeled me in.  For the next thirty-six minutes of Carolina highway, I had my left hand on the wheel, my right hand holding my girl's, and this stunning new album providing the soundtrack like an honest to goodness Tar Heel State tour guide as we reflected on the adventure and embraced the wide open future.  A "New View" indeed.

To be clear, I love this entire record, front to back.  "Turpentine" is a particular favorite, a slow-burner with backing vocals from Amy Ray of Indigo Girls which gives way to nearly two-minutes of a perfect and very '70s Neil Young sounding guitar freakoutro.  This is an album of loss and rebirth.  It's so sad, yet so hopeful.  McEntire is a world-class lyricist and songwriter and I have devoured the entire H.C. McEntire and Mount Moriah back catalogs over the past nine months.  

Sometimes only circumstance can put you in the place you need to be to fall in love with something or someone.  Fortunately, I found both Every Acre and S just when I needed them.  

Right on time.  

About my copy:  
MRG802
Clear orange "Merge Peak Vinyl" edition, purchased at Down In the Valley upon my return to Minnesota in early February.  My only regret is that I didn't buy it at Gravity Records in Wilmington.