Adventures in Record Collecting

Genre (en deux sens) shift! We're talking one of the greats of country music, Patsy Cline. There's drama, heartache, strings, and the keyboard work of Floyd Cramer. And, as always, I blather on about how genres are bullshit.

Unable to cheat, as I only have one vinyl copy of Rubber Soul (at least, until a Super Deluxe edition is released *fingers crossed*), so I managed to keep this at 30 minutes. I discuss this, the Coke Zero of Rubber Souls, as well as more evidence for my "genres are bullshit" rant, a hot take about Paul McCartney, how the album opener has disproportionate influence on the overall vibe of an album,...

Meet the Beatles redux! I talk about legacy, marketing, and the long reach of the Beatles. Plus, my weekly jaunts to Target, and side 2.

Fortuitous timing! This episode coincides with a holiday-time burst of Beatles content. I've split this into two parts: this part focuses on my original 1964 copy of Meet the Beatles, why US fans had different albums, and how training for a marathon led me to deepen my knowledge of the early Beatles catalog.

Back on my soapbox, although I limit the “genres are bullshit” talk. I’m sure I utter the word “bop” over a dozen times. I also talk about why Europeans dig jazz. This the last of the first batch of St. Vinny’s $1.50 records. Next episode gets spendier!

This episode has a catch phrase: Genres are bullsh!t. I delve into why, with a related footnote on why pop is not a useful classification. I put on a fetching tinfoil hat and link Peggy Lee and The Beatles, discuss 60s cocktail party fare and talk husbands (not mine).

Riot! at the Ballet with Igor Stravinsky and me. I do a little light mythbusting, talk about Team Romanticism and Team Modernism, expound on work vs. context, and talk about the pitfalls of record shopping at the thrift store.

It's an election special! I reminisce about my family's relationship to politics, look a gift album in the mouth, and test my commitment to the bit. I also poke at notions of funny/not-funny, as well as brief discursions into art crimes and the 1984 Olympics. And while it was implied, I didn't say it outright, so I'll note it here: if there's a hell, I hope Richard Nixon and Henry Kissinger are bo...

I wrangle with what it means to "know" something, make an analogy between a director of a play and a conductor of an orchestra, flail about with meaning, and wring my hands about a certain flavor of fascism.

In which I explain my mission, violate the cardinal rule of thrifting, and muse on how the past is like another country.