In my other Record Store Day posts (see below) I've talked a bit about the unique engagement with music provided by a visit to a music emporium. Going out on RSD is an opportunity to see more people while doing so, and take the pulse of this sacred activity. This year, I also had the slightly practical consideration of 18" linear inches of CD's I wanted to unload. They're good people at Permanent, and even though they wouldn't give me a lot for the pile, which was mostly Mojo Magazine compilation discs, I knew they would be fair about it.
I got a little more than I bargained for on the "see more people" part of the equation. When I arrived at Permanent Records about 30 minutes after opening, there was a crowd waiting in the blazing sunshine just to get upstairs. I don't usually pack sunscreen in my blog bag so I got slightly roasted. I did have a chance to chat with some of my fellow travelers, including a woman who mentioned that she was reading Viv Albertine's memoir. That's a book I've been meaning to get to and based on her description I need to read it soon. I told her and her boyfriend about the time The Slits played Irving Plaza and it was unexpectedly one of the best reggae shows I've ever seen. They went from faking it to make it to being the real deal in pretty short order.
The line moved slowly but we finally made it to the tiny elevator, which was part of the cause of the delay. The stairs are not available from the lobby so we shuttled up in groups of six, getting upstairs to find...another line. Permanent Records used to have a storefront in Greenpoint but high rents drove them to find their current space, a charming room in the back of Brooklyn Works, which provides desk and office space for rent by the hour to the creative and entrepreneurial classes.
Once in the store, I did take a perfunctory look at the box of special releases, conveniently placed near the front. I considered Brian Eno's My Squelchy Life, on vinyl for the first time, but from what I recall this material was unreleased for a reason. The tracks that trickled out on compilations were not among his best work - and there's the fact that it was issued digitally last year as part of a big campaign by Eno's All Saints record company. Not worth my $30. The rest of the box had plenty of Springsteen, and Willie Nelson's Teatro, which never quite lived up to the expectations provided by having Daniel Lanois at his peak in the production chair, and a couple of other things of minor interest.
I quickly turned my attention elsewhere and almost as quickly spotted a copy of Parquet Courts Live At Third Man Records, a vinyl-only release taped at Jack White's spot down in Nashville. The "7.5 on Pitchfork" sticker helped catch my attention, I admit. That's good indie store practice. Parquet Courts are a great live band so even the prospect of lining Jack's pockets couldn't keep me away. Hopefully the band is getting the bigger cut.
I also grabbed Kendrick Lamar's To Pimp A Butterfly. True, I can listen on Spotify, and maybe it was two bucks cheaper on Amazon, but since it's a important record that's worth owning why not support Permanent in the process?
That's when the serious flipping through new and used stuff began. There was a CD of Colossal Youth by Young Marble Giants for $4, which I pulled out and tried to hard sell to the Viv Albertine reader. "If you like The Slits, you'll probably like this. It's one of the greatest albums of all time!" She had never heard of YMG and was intrigued - but there was a catch: "I don't have a CD player." Nope - not even in her laptop, since she just bought a MacBook Air. Ladies and gentlemen, the post-CD era is real.
Not for me, however. I was happy to find a copy of the Legacy Edition of Marvin Gaye's Midnight Love, an album I've been meaning to get to know better. The double-disc versions of What's Going On, Let's Get It On, and I Want You are some of the finest reissues of their kind, with great bonus tracks and informative liner notes, so my hopes are high.
I recently read in Mojo that soul great Johnnie Taylor was the first artist ever to be awarded a Platinum single, for Disco Lady in 1976. Apparently Taylor himself was none too impressed with the song, which features a rhythm track by P-Funk legends Bootsy Collins, Bernie Worrell (billed as George), and Glen Goine. "My voice is too low, the record doesn't suit me and I think we need to go with something else," he told his producer. Soon Disco Lady was Number 1 for four weeks and Taylor was literally bathing in Champagne. While I didn't bust out the bubbly, I was delighted to find copies of both Eargasm, the album containing Disco Lady, and one of its follow-ups, the soundtrack to Disco 9000, on vintage vinyl. If you know me, you also know that I'm excited to report that the other bassists on Eargasm are Michael Henderson of Motown and Miles Davis fame, and Muscle Shoals's own David Hood. Four string nirvana.
Finally, I delved into the ultimate hit-or-miss bins, with the dollar and two-for-one records. I actually scored, discovering a 12" single of Bryan Ferry's Is Your Love Strong Enough. Some of his best 80's work was for movies or only on singles so I'm always on the lookout for ones I don't have. I also selected a 12" of Wait For It Megacity Mix by Brilliant, which may be the last thing the Killing Joke spin-off released before becoming a New Romantic pop nightmare.
The best news is that I have plenty room for these vinyl additions, having sold a stack of wax to Permanent a few months ago. It all came full circle when I saw a heavily tattooed shopper buy the copy of Sham 69's Hersham Boys that was in that stack. Looks like it found a good home.
As I paid, I chatted with the proprietor and cashier of Permanent and it seems like things are going well in the still newish space. While its small size made the RSD crowds a logistical challenge, they seemed to take it in stride and were ringing up some high value sales. I wondered what had been the most obvious object of desire among the exclusive releases. "Brand New," they both said practically at once. Huh? Turned out they were referring to Deja Entendu, the second album by Long Island Emo-punk band Brand New. Originally released in 2003, it is apparently very hard to find on vinyl, and they have rabid fans, like the guy who showed up at Permanent at 4:30 AM to get his copy.
I like to picture that guy, carefully removing the holy grail from the glossy sleeve, and placing it on his turntable. As the power cords and slightly whiny vocals fill the room, he begins to dream of what he will find next April. See you then, brother.
Other Record Store Day Posts:
RSD 2014
A Bronx Cheer For RSD
