Charity shops can be hit or miss for records, amongst the endless boxes of Val Doonican and Vera Lynn I come accross the odd album that could find a home in my record collection.
It's not all fun and games, I once unearthed a cover for a rare Hawkwind album with nothing inside. I checked every other record cover there in case it was in the wrong sleeve. I turned the shop damn near inside out looking for it, I then returned a few weeks later and went through the whole process again. I never did find that record.
I did get a copy of Blondie's Parallel Lines, which is a great album by the way, for just 99p in the local Barnados though. There is a cool documentary called Blondie's New York... and the Making of Parallel Lines, explaining how this LP captured a little bit of Zeitgeist of New York, carving new territory in the punk and disco worlds which had little respect for each other.
My copy came with it's own little bit of history. Inside the sleeve I found several sheets of lined A4 - some darling from a bygone decade had written the lyrics for each track out carefully and placed them inside. With the album released in 1978, the creater of my home made lyric sheet was not doing anything that I had not done myself 20 years later in the 90s.
I got a sudden flood of memories, from stopping Eternal's Just a Step from Heaven at the end of every line to write down the lyrics, to listening to the Top 40 on Atlantic 252 with my left and right index fingers carefully poised over the 'record' and 'play' buttons on the tape deck to try and get the songs whilst editing out the DJs voice.
I guess listening to music in your bedroom, feeling like the lyrics could have been written exclusively to suit your particular adolescent gripe at that time, is a quintessential teenage experience.
After breaking up with a childhood sweetheart, a friend of mine bought me Cher's Believe from Woolworths, because quite naturally my world had ended. I played it over and over and over, then a week later with my world miraculously reformed, I got a new boyfriend and played Bon Jovi's Bed of Roses incessantly, much to the annoyance of everyone else in the house.
Check out the below inner sleeve from my copy of Deep Purple's 24 Carat Purple, where another youngster has graffitti'd the names of his favourite bands. I particularly like that Led Zeppelin has fallen out of favour at some point and been crossed out with the word 'pants' scrawled underneath - ah the fickleness of youth!
In October, the Foo Fighters announced that pre-orders of their Sonic Highways album would include a limited edition flexi disc. I had no idea what a flexi disc was but it was vinyl(esque) and from the Foos, so naturally I wanted one.
A month or so later my Sonic Highways record arrived and sure enough, this little piece of cardboard came with it. About the thickness of a paperback cover, you can just about see the grooves if you tilt it in the light. It was clear from the get go that this wasn't something you would be able to play 500 times, I was doubtful you could even play it 5 times with out it ripping or turning to dust. Could this piece of card handle the big, big noise of a song like Roky Erickson's Two Headed Dog?
I decided there and then, I would play it just once. And anyone who wanted to hear it could come along - any excuse for a get together. So that's how the Foo Fighters Flexi Disc Party came to be. A handful of my lovely friends and I got together and had a listen.
I set it up on the record player, switched the speed to 45RPM, put a little coin on the card - very quaint, very fun. The instructions tell you to play the disc at Max Volume - I don't want to boast about my stereo but I was worried that may have caused a little ear bleeding amongst my guests - but we did play it FUCKING LOUD.
I hadn't really considered that wax had a sound all of it's own, but I guess it does because cardboard sounds distinctly different. It's rougher, more grainy, imagine running your finger over the surface of a record and then over the surface of a piece of card. The difference in sound can be compared the same way, shiny verses matt. I don't think I was the only one in the room who was slightly in awe that there was actually (loud) music coming from this thing.
For me the flexi disc had the same vibe of wonderment and anticipation as listening to something new, but also in a new format. I've since found out that discovering something new is part of the heritage and ongoing legacy of the Flexi disc.
The Heritage
Information on the origins of the flexi disc is difficult to verify, maybe not least because 'flexi disc' does not seem to be a standardised format at all. Wikipedia has it that the flexi disc was "introduced as the Eva-tone soundsheet in 1962" where as moremusic.co.uk ascertains:
"The earliest flexis we can locate are from the UK, they play at 78RPM and date from the mid-50s, their existence is pretty remarkable as the old 78 players used heavy needles that would probably carve up a flexi after just (a) few plays"
Go further back again and flexi discs are said to have been in circulation in Soviet Russia as far back as the late 40s. By printing bootlegged jazz music onto old X-ray film, otherwise banned music was available on the underground scene.
None of these reports are necessarily wrong, just that they are possibly talking about different products that could all be described as a flexible disc!
The idea of the flexi disc as a novelty seems to have developed by the 60s, with The Beatles sending out special Christmas flexi discs to members of their fanclub.
Then returning to the Eastern Bloc, there is the curious case of the Frank Zappa flexi disc postcards which were almost certainly 'unofficially' released from the 80s onwards. Some, like the ones from Morgot Records, have the expected pictures of Zappa. But then there also the mysterious "Polish" flexi disc postcards which have a variety of random images that are in no way related to Zappa and which have no indication on who pressed them.
Don't Eat the Yellow Snow - Zappa Polish Postcard
In the meantime, music flexi discs were widely used as promos in magazines before the advent of compact discs slowed their production to a halt by the year 2000. As e-Zine, Moremusic.co.uk puts it:
"By the Mid 90s the CD had usurped the Flexi as the cheapest way to get music on the cover of a magazine, with up to 80 minutes of digital quality music as oppose to 10 minutes of poor quality sound on a Flexi, this was one battle vinyl was unlikely to win! "
The Legacy
Over ten years later, the flexi began a tentative come back with San Francisco's Pirate Press Records firing up production of flexi discs, and heavy metal magazine Decibel offered "loyal subscribers" a chance to "receive a new, ultra-limited vinyl flexi disc bound into the magazine every month" in 2011.
2012 was a notable year for flexi discs, with the format gaining further momentum. On Record Store Day, Domino Records issued an exclusive magazine containing five singles on individual flexi discs. The same year Rookie Mag issued a flexi disc with it's first physical edition.
It will come as no surprise that this is the kind of action that Jack White would want in on and also in 2012, he released a single from Blunderbuss. When I say he released his single, I mean he actually released them into the air. Attached to helium balloons. On flexi disc!
Jack White is an exponent of the ultra limited and this is an identity that that the flexi disc has picked up in its more recent history. In 2013, the above mentioned pioneers, Pirate Press produced a tiny run of flexi discs for just over 200 subscribers of German fanzine PUNKROCK!, while Joyful Noise Recordings (who describe themselves as 'purveyors of interesting media for a variety of artistically-honest, exploratory & often haphazard musicians') ran a series of monthly flexi discs of exclusive tracks which wont be released in any other format. The series was limited to 1000 copies and the exercise was repeated in 2014. Interested in getting the 2015 series? You will have to join the waiting list via the website.
The flexi disc has had a bit of an image change along the way from recycled Soviet X-ray prints, to magazine freebies, to prestigious items of music memorabilia. What once was disposable has now become collectible.
Joy Division's flexi disc of Komakina states "This is a free record" on Side A and "This record should not have cost you anything, wherever or however it was obtained." on Side B, but these days you can pick one up for a fiver!
Of course the flexi disc is not about the take over the world but it does seem to have come back from the brink. Thanks for mine Foo Fighters - I really enjoyed it.
The last track on Sgt Peppers Lonely Hearts Club Band, 'A Day in The Life' was originally banned by the BBC for being a drugs song. They were probably right to do so, as when you read some of the crazy theories surrounding the lyrics, it's not hard to imagine that some of these fans were, and possibly still are, dabbling with some mind altering substances.
I happened to be perusing some of these theories one Saturday night because, to put it simply, my life is not as rock and roll as music I listen to.
Roll up, roll up, the Guardian presents an evening of ludicrous and intriguing hypotheses from Beatles fans across the world. So here are a few of my personal favourites, along with my notes on their varying degrees of credibility.
On the line 'four thousand holes in Blackburn, Lancashire':
Was it not the number of holes: drinking holes? i.e. Pubs? At that time Blackburn was a large industrial town and most working men finished their days in the pub. There was a pub on every street corner so 4000 pubs in Blackburn is VERY possible.
Andrew Donelan, Blackburn, Lancashire
Hands up if you want to live in a town with 4000 pubs? While Andrew's utopian vision is appealing, there's around 7000 pubs in London today to put it into context....
Actually it was a direct quote from a recently discovered obscure Scottish bard, "For thou's an old sin, black bairn, lankish ere."
Jim, London UK
Genius, I love it. Just for the sake of clarity though, it's a complete fabrication, Jim is just yanking your chain.
More probable is the '4000 holes in Blackburn, Lancashire' is reportedly a reference to a regional news article featured in the Daily Mail on 17th January 1967, about potholes. In Blackburn. Not as cryptic as one might first imagine ay?
To complicate the matter, Lennon went on to write 'Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall'. Some people claim 'holes' rudely refers to the young ladies that made up the majority of the audience of a Beatles gig, whilst others think it refers to Rolling Stones fans, after The Stones sold out the Albert Hall in 1966. A gig where they were supported by The Ike and Tina Turner Revue and The Yardbirds. If that is the true meaning of the lyric I would likely give a year of my life to have been one of those arse-'holes'!
One logician proposes this is actually a Lewis Caroll-esque maths riddle:
Wikipedia says that the line "now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall" can be explained by the fact that there was one hole for every 26 people in Blackburn, Lancashire. While the Royal Albert Hall holds about 8000 people, you would have needed about 308 holes to fill it. Because there are 26 people for every hole, of course...
Sebastian, Germany
Newspaper articles on the subject credit the line 'Now they know how many holes it takes to fill the Albert Hall' as just being a nonsense lyric written to maintain the flow of the song.
And, the pièce de résistance, who is 'The lucky man, who made the grade'?
Some say Paul died in 1964 and was replaced with a Canadian who had won a look alike competition earlier that year. His name was/is William Campbell. The song "a day in the life" refers to a car crash - that Paul was in? The driver was decapitated. There are lots of videos on YouTube about this.
Colin Proctor, Roehampton UK
This idea has its origins in the "Paul is Dead" hoax, started by a bunch of students in Iowa a few years after Sgt Peppers was released. The conspiracy gained momentum, being published in ever bigger newspapers and taking up whole radio shows.
Eventually the whole world was gripped in an evidence gathering mission, with other clues purported to be Lennon saying "I buried Paul" at the end of Strawberry Fields and "Turn me on, dead man" being heard when "Revolution 9" on The White Album is played backwards, as well as visual clues on LP covers Sgt Peppers, Abbey Road and Magical Mystery Tour.
McCartney himself has even made reference to the hoax in his own work. The cover of his 1993 'Paul is Live' Album parodies the "clues" from Abbey Road.
It is commonly accepted that this man, who "Made the grade" and "Blew his mind out in a car" refers to Tara Browne, a friend of Lennon and McCartney's and heir to the Guiness Estate. He had died the previous December, but the Daily Mail ran a story on him in the same 17th January 1967 edition.
Intrigue, wrapped in enigma, wrapped in mystery. The only thing conclusively proved by this post is that the Daily Mail and unsubstantiated bullshit have always gone hand in hand.
In my honest opinion there aren't a great number of redeeming features about internet dating. How are you supposed to tell if you like someone from an awkward, self consciously written handful of sentences? Well one fellow POFfer I stumbled across had the rather genius idea of listing the songs he'd listened to while writing his profile. His selection is actually pretty representative of some of the types of fellas I've encountered on the site, So I've named the selection "The POF Playlist" - song choices courtesy of a tall, dark stranger - interpretation by moi:
Clifford T Ward - Home Thoughts From Abroad - Ah, the sentimental but slow ones. Opening message is usually some variant of 'Hi babezz hows u?'. They are the sweet guys, the ones I probably should be going for. But the conversation always goes a little flat when I ask are you more of a Tesla or Edison kind of guy?
Led Zeppelin - Tangerine - Uh oh, the one who's still pining for his ex. A pretty sad song about lost love, the best thing about this song for me has always been the end, I like the way the tempo goes a bit haywire and the guitar is just allowed to play, but the thrills are few and far between.
Alice In Chains - Dam The River - The date typified by Alice in Chains would probably be long haired, a bit awkward around ladies, and have passions outside of their career and homelife. All these things are good, providing the passions are not Xbox360 or LARPing!
Johan Bach - Air - The intellectual. Will probably list his personality type as 'sapiosexual', which is slightly intimidating as you wonder if you will be intelligent enough to get his motor running. He probably wont end up being that clever after all, he just has a subscription the the National Geo graphic and thinks he is.
Mastodon - Curl Of The Burl - Mastodon are like the metal band you cant put in a box, with sounds and influences from a plethora of other genres. This date could be interesting and likely to surprise you but watch out for a slight air of superiority
QOTSA - Go With The Flow - This one will be 6'3 of pure rock god. Sex on legs, ginger, beautiful - practically perfect in every way. No wait, that's just Josh Homme, unfortunately.
R.E.M - Nightswimming - Earnest, sincere, sensitive. Probably wont appreciate my drunken humour and would possibly find me a bit uncouth.
I'm an early bird, weekdays I can often be found in the office by 7:30am. The sooner you get there, the sooner you can leave right?
At that time of day the place has a Marie Celeste air about it but I do have one colleague who is usually up with the lark. Being the only one in, he is often bombarded with my tales of record collecting adventures, which I presumed he always tolerated as one of my eccentric (but hopefully endearing!) activities.
He has one of the most logical, methodical minds I've ever encountered. Digital music is perfectly aligned to be his format of choice, all those zeros and ones. I always fancied that analog would be too unpredictable for him by far.
However, I must have piqued his interested because he dug out his Dad's old record player and gave it a whirl. He agreed that it had a richer, warmer sound to playing music through his computer.
One lunchtime he accompanied me to Terry's Music in Pontypridd to pick up some records I'd ordered and I was a little surprised to see him inspecting the record players and asking lots of questions.
Then when I told him that most new records come with download codes, I could see the tide turning.
A little while later, he came in and announced that he was getting a record player for Christmas. I was most chuffed to have influenced that particular letter to Santa.
So when I pulled his name from the Secret Santa hat the other day I didn't have to think twice about what to get.
I picked up these little lovelies from my all time favourite music shop, Red House Music, Aberdare. I really hope he likes them, but to be honest if you don't like the music of Ella Fitzgerald and Sam Cooke then your ears are broke.
Dear Santa I would also like a present which is 12" x 12" please
My younger cousin recently helped me with some decorating. We couldn't agree on a radio station, he's more Radio 1, I'm more Radio 6, so we settled on playing some records instead.
I couldn't help but smile to see him scrubbing paint off his hands in a rush to turn over the record. Soon he was devouring them, with several queued up ready to be played. He started asking lots of questions like how to tell a 1st press from a reissue, and pawed through the lovely book in my copy of The Who's Tommy when we had finished.
Then on the last day of decorating, after I'd worked the poor boy ragged, we flopped down on the sofa and with a grin he says to me:
"Guess what, I was talking to Uncle M about records when I left here the other other night and he's digging his old record player out for me to have."
Firstly, I would like to start by apologising to Them Crooked Vultures guitarist Alain Johannes, for failing to give him a mention in my initial excitement over the employment history of the other band members. His own CV includes no less than working with a Josh Homme on some of his brainchildren, Brody Dalle's new set up, being a bit of a legend with a cigar box guitar, as well as writing and producing a bunch of influential music. And more to the point he smashes it on my first bootleg vinyl - Live at Rockpalast. Please accept this belated doffing of my cap.
Now I'm not keen on the term 'Supergroup' but it is a deserved accolade, there is no doubt that these gentlemen ooze skill and a certain confidence with both their instruments and their ability to work a crowd, which is laid bare here in bootleg format. This record has a fluidity of performance but is brutally live - a fair distance away from overdubbed live albums ala Thin Lizzy's Live and Dangerous.
I'd be lying if I said the sound quality was as good as you'd expect from a label release, there's a few clicks and strange pauses, but hell - it sounds pretty epic when you turn it up loud.
The quality of the physical record is not at all substandard. It's a good, heavy 180g pressing and the black cat logo on a home printed label gives the whole thing a deliciously underground vibe. Like with all live albums on vinyl, it's a bit weird when you suddenly go from the sound of live action and a roaring crowd to the muffling of dead wax.
The first track No-one Loves Me and Neither Do I has got an oh so dirty bass, which is relentless and kind of beats you up just like bass does at a gig. This is a no surprise considering this was recorded at the Palladium in Cologne, which has a capacity for 4000 standing.
Maybe it's because the Germans have penchant for taking their rock in BIG, loud doses. Maybe it's because you can clearly hear the crowd having a ball.
All in all I love it and my only regret is that I wasn't there!
P.S. If you Google the acronym 'TCV', you will also come across the The Conservation Volunteers, for the record I dig what you guys do too.
The term 'bootleg' applies predominately to music and alcohol that has been made and distributed illegally.
I don't know why only these two things exclusively but one might argue that they are happy enough bedfellows. It doesn't for example, apply to DVDs, and you wont find a bootleg Balenciaga handbag. (Though you will find fake ones, I know because I have one from a market in Bangkok.)
With music it tends to refer to a recording of a live performance in particular. Often these recordings are just circulated amongst fans but some bootleggers have it down to a fine art, doing much of the sound engineering and post-production you would expect a record label to do - and many fetch a price on grounds of rareness.
The "problem" here is that said record company is now cut out of the loop and not making any money from the bootlegged work. Money which they are entitled to through copyright law.
Now you don't need me moralising on the subject, but just for the record (excuse the pun), I'll declare my stance.
Were you, the artist/label, planning to release a recording of that gig yourself?
No. No problem then. We are fans and we want more recordings, of more stuff, at more venues. We will likely buy your stuff alongside the bootlegs.
Yes. Well then you'd better make the official version better than, or different to, the bootleg if you want us to buy it. If you cant manage that, go have a little cry to your hedge fund manager in Zurich or something.
If you are still feeling any modicum of guilt regarding bootlegs, read this great article, Bootlegs, An Insight into the Shady Side of Music Collecting, which highlights how bootlegged material has actually driven the direction of what an artist releases by showing the label what the fans really want.
I'll tell you a little yarn of my own. A good friend of mine runs a really super music shop in town. He attends record fairs and several times spotted none other than Mr Jimmy Page snapping up bootleg Led Zep recordings. Back last year he says to me 'I suspect they'll start reissuing Led Zeppelin albums now, with "bonus, previously unreleased" material.' Not long after, the music news was full of talk of the current Led Zep reissues. Talk to your local music shop proprietor - they have their finger on the pulse!
Now the last thing I want is the downfall of any record labels - I'm a huge music fan and I dig a lot of the innovative work they do and of course the wonderful artists they support and bring to my ears. I am just not a fan of creative monopolies - 'viva la grassroots, fan-led pressings', 'VIVA LA BOOTLEGGER'.
This discussion started with intrigue around a Them Crooked Vultures LP that I stumbled across: Them Crooked Vultures - Live at Rockpalast 2009.
Label Details = 'Not on Label'.
I have a deep appreciation of the musical mind of Josh Homme, I am a fan of Kyuss, QOTSA and the Dessert Sessions, not to mention Nirvana, Foo Fighters and Led Zeppelin. How on earth I have neglected to properly familiarise myself with Them Crooked Vultures, boasting members from all of these beloved bands? I extol the virtues of the above bands live - grungey, noisey, raw and skilled - so I decided I'd like to hear a little live recording of Them Crooked Vultures.
And that's when I found 'Live at Rockpalast - Not on Label'. This, I thought, could be amazing. A bunch of artists (Dave Grohl, Josh Homme, and John Paul Jones) known for understanding the importance of musicality over production and having a reputation for being kick ass live, potentially recorded straight off an amp at the gig.
Trying not to get totally carried away with myself, I decided to get a reality check from an audiophile friend who I knew wouldn't like the idea.
He didn't like the idea, he didn't like it one bit.
What kid of amateur equipment may have been used? Has this rogue recorder gotten 'creative' in production between grabbing it from the gig and the vinyl press?
My friend's opinions and knowledge on vinyl are not to be rubbished but we are different people. He has some LPs that he doesn't play because they are too rare and collectable. Me? I'm more a 'spin it to death because it sounds so good' kind of girl.
So I am sitting here having a cup of tea and reading my order confirmation for Them Crooked Vultures, Live at Rockpalast 2009. I'm intrigued to find out if my first bootleg vinyl will be all I hope, or whether my friend gave sound advice when he said 'I wouldn't touch it with someone else's barge pole.'
The Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band cover was created by Peter Blake and his then-wife Jann Haworth and won a Grammy Award for Best Album Cover. An iconic cover for an iconic album which I have listened to a lot recently (on a later, non-expensive pressing.)
As I sat this Wednesday morning, reading the Observer magazine (that's right I sometimes start my Sunday paper on a Wednesday - I'm not ashamed), I was struck by the very last line of an interview with Sir Peter Blake:
"Wherever I go there are men waiting for me with square plastic bags full of records for me to sign. They'll ask you to sign something then whip out four albums - Sgt Pepper, Paul Weller. I know they'll go straight on eBay."
At first, and despite Sir Peter's apparent acceptance of this, I felt deflated and very sad. What kind of world is this whereby we will stalk an artist for the sterling value of his signature?
What has happened to the impossible but irresistible notion of art and creativity being somehow above the drudgerous capitalist machine?
But I can be a bit dramatic like that.
Then I began to look at this in the context of my own activities over the last 12 months and indeed my aspirations.
Just over a year ago, I started collecting records. I am what I have coined 'a talentless creative'. I have the passion, the love, the energy and the will to create. It's just that my creative output has typically been rather shit.
Listening to records, finding them, admiring the sleeves, researching them, handling them and talking about them to my friends (who, no doubt are too polite to let their utter boredom slip), is an outlet for my passion for music.
Then a few months back I saw a joblot of records on Gumtree. Most of the collection wasn't my cup of tea but there were a few real gems in there. After some quick mental maths I figured the price of the joblot was only a few quid more than I would have paid for the gems at a record shop anyway and so I bought it.
Peter Blake's cover for Paul Weller's Stanley Road
I loved my handful of new records, purred over them even, while I tried to ignore the 140 others in the corner that I really didn't want.
I tried eBay, it was horrendously expensive for a seller.
I tired listing them back on Gumtree and the magic started happening. People were calling me and chatting about the music and the LPs. How they'd discovered this or that, amusing anecdotes about when they'd first found something on record. I was in my element.
Then eventually the timewasters and non-turner-uppers got to me so I turned to Discogs. Those who know me know that I love learning a new skill and learning how to grade records was an utter joy to me.
In short, I have learnt I love selling records as well as collecting them.
It appeals to some of my other sensibilities too. I like the idea of keeping these things in use. Treating them half as artefacts of a time where you physically held your music and it didn't only exist in a non-real space called 'the cloud' or some nonsense like that. And in equal measure, treating them as a toy, to be used and listened to. I mean who cares if you are dancing around in your nightie with a cigarette and a splash of your large gin and tonic lands onto side A? Some records are rare and precious, some just need to be diverted from landfill and enjoyed.
But for the ones I sell, I enjoy improving them - I tenderly clean them with my special cloth, I carefully glue gatefolds and replace shoddy innersleeves with nice new ones. My business model is to take something worth 'X' and make it better so it is now worth 'Y'. Trust me the margins are very small.
At the moment I use the cash to further indulge my hobby, but I aspire to one day have a music shop. Finally a way for this talentless music aficionado to make a living from music.
So would I ask an artist to sign a record intended for resale? Yes.
Would I also relish every second of that experience? Talking to the artist about their work? Enjoying the interaction with with one of those successful creative types I admire? Regaling the story to the eventual customer? Yes. I would revel in every second. Because that's exactly the kind of escapade that would let me know I was doing something I love with my life.
So maybe I shouldn't be sad. Whether the records end up on eBay or not, they will mean a lot to the people who end up buying them.
And rest assured Sir Peter, if I had my copy of Sgt Pepper signed by you it would be strictly 'not for sale'.
