Heartaches By the Crate

Crate Diving in Modern America

I worry about myself. No, I’m not losing it, however you translate or understand the losing side of me. But I might be losing my enthusiasm for crate diving, as my absence from this Substack world attests.

The more positive way to look at this new trend is to think that maybe my obsessive tendencies—my search for every last Loretta or Tammy LP—no longer has me in its relentless grip. And no, I haven’t achieved the nirvana of collecting the whole canon of their work either.

Actually, the true answer to this question (Where is the love, or where has our love gone?) is that my wife and I have loosened our financial constraints; or perhaps I should say we’ve had some unexpected expenses/desires in other realms lately, and so I’ve felt guilty about indulging my record store, and that have-to-have vintage copy of Fragile (I’m no Yes fan, or at least not anymore, so I only mention this album because in a galaxy far far away otherwise known as my college years, someone stole my copy from my own house, at my own party. They also took Deja Vu, too. Now that’s really fucked up).

In all honesty, I’m writing to you from my brand new computer, and I am too private (???) to tell you what I bought. My last computer did that thing where staticky horizontal lines appear on the screen, replaced by colorful vertical lines and over $700 later (no, I didn’t spend that amount to try to get it repaired, but just so you’ll know what I was dealing with and working on)… Well, put it this way.

When the sales person and tech guy asked me how I planned to spend the rest of my day, I said,

“By not going to the record store as planned.”

I have no problems, just so you’ll know, but I do have a brand new computer, to which my wife said,

“Mobarak!”

Up to you to translate that one.

However.

A couple of weeks ago, I did go to my favorite crate-diving store, Cabin Floor Records, and so now you get the immense joy of sharing my immense joy in reading about what I found.

I knew it would be a great haul when, as I entered, Joe said to me,

“Just put in a bunch of new Country records, thinking about you.”

Don’t you just love that? Don’t it make you wanna go home now?

It didn’t take long, and though I thought I was saturated with Country and truly wanted some old Soul, as opposed to old soul, I grabbed these and ran for the hills, stopping by the Cash register first.

1. George Jones & Tammy Wynette: Golden Ring (Epic KE34291, 1976). You can look hard, but the too small sticker says “some marks, plays great.” True enough, and cost: $3.00. You know it’s George and Tammy, since the first song is “Tattletale Eyes,” and the second is “Even the Bad Times Are Good.”

2. Johnny Cash: Hello, I’m Johnny Cash (Columbia KCS9943, 1970). The 33rd album John released, this one contains “Jesus Was A Carpenter,” and nuff said. But I’ll go on and say that the “hit” was “If I Were a Carpenter.” I remember when that was on the radio—that duet with June—and I didn’t understand but knew it was religious. I still don’t understand cause I’m not. $3.00.

3. Freddy Fender: Before the Next Teardrop Falls (ABC Dot DOSD-2020, 1975). $5.00 and still in its shrink wrap. Why Freddy, you might ask? First, it’s in pristine condition. Second, I’ve always liked the title song even when I pretended I didn’t. Third, my grandmother liked it even though she thought his last name was “Bender.’ Guess she was hoping he was Jewish, even though I kept telling her and my Dad that it was Fender, seemingly non-ethnic except…

4. Diana Ross: Touch Me in the Morning (Motown M772L, 1973). So I did find some Soul, or at least Pop Soul. I remember when that title song was a semi-hit, and no one messed up her last name, even though she covered “Imagine.” Shrink-wrapped and a pristine $5.00, too.

5. Bruce Langhorne, Score For Peter Fonda’s The Hired Hand (Scissor Tail Records 2023). Originally recorded to tape in 1969, I decided to pay full price ($22) for this strange advent of Folk Rock. Langhorne played with Dylan, too, and if you want to create a mood that will displace you from cares about money, time, and primary elections, you can’t do much better than this one.

So there you are, and I hope all your crate dreams come true, for less than you thought.