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How Do You Consume Music?

These days, music is consumed a lot differently than when we were kids. My dad’s CB handle was ‘8-tracker’. He sold so many 8-track cassettes that our ozone is going bad from all the plastic in the landfills. He also brought home boxes and boxes of LPs and 45s. He would make me mix tapes from the 45s. He was an awesome father, in other words. I listened to records, tapes and radio. Then came the Compact Disc. I had one of the first hundred-or-so copies of the first CD printed in the United States. Do you know what it was? *trivia question* Comment below with the correct answer for a free CD. The Compact Disc brought us perfect, lossless instances of our favorite songs. I, being the genius I am, saw the CD as the New World Order. We no longer need this terrible scratchable, warpable medium called vinyl. keep reading

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Why I Hate the Radio

Radio is a scam. So far as I can tell, the DJs aren’t allowed to just play what they want. Not at all. And don’t even get me started on the “You pick the next song!” bullshit. We listeners call in and choose which of the three Steve Miller Band songs we want to listen to, and then, presumably, they play the one with the most votes. Sure they count the votes. I don’t even know why they still have DJs except to tell us what they’re about to play. Or rather, what is about to be played by the computer program that runs the station. Seriously. When was the last time you heard anything from Peter Gabriel’s “So” album besides In Your Eyes? Did you know that there were other songs on that record that are as good, or even better than that one? Don’t get me wrong, I keep reading

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Thrift Store & Discogs Haul!

My wife and I did our little bi-monthly weekend getaway. This time we went to Granbury, so not too far. Just a Friday evening through Sunday afternoon gig. Well, Granbury is full of little thrift shops and antique stores. Those places give me tired-head, big time. It’s sensory overload. There’s so much to look at and process, my eyes and head just start swimming. Of course, I always look through the record bins when I find them. And usually they’re all so picked through that you won’t find anything worth a shit. Mostly stuff from the early 40s or 50s or stuff that you’ve never heard of. Torn jackets, vinyl scratched to hell… Well, we went into this one place – I think it was the last place we checked out – and I just barely caught a glimpse of something roughly 12 x 12 out of the corner of keep reading