Just When I Got My Records Sorted...

Crate Diving in Modern America

I can’t believe my birthday was almost a month ago. I also can’t believe I turned 69. I can’t believe I was 13 when I first started diving into crates—mainly 45 rpm bins in K-Mart and Sears. 56 years later, and with a bit of arthritis in my fingers and wrists that makes shuffling through used bins of LPs more painful than it once was, I’m still executing perfect dives off boards of various judged ratings into the crates my record stores supply with others’ cast-offs.

I still can’t believe that someone dumped his or her collection of early Elvis Costello records just at the time EC appeared here in town. But it happened, and so did my birthday, which means only that I’m a richer person than I once was, but…

There was a moment on July 6 when I had everything sorted in my study/record room. All the LPs were either filed or taken downstairs on the “I’ll play these again someday” shelves. I had rearranged and re-ordered my collection, featuring in the beautiful wood cabinet that my wife built for me the music that pierces and also soothes my core: from The Band through Neil Young, with stops at Johnny Cash, Kris Kristofferson, Emmylou Harris, Linda Ronstadt, and of course, Dylan.

But anyone who knows me and wants to buy me a birthday gift understands that it’s either books or records, and while my sister-in-law got me a gift card to our local independent bookseller, most people either took me record shopping or, in the case of my younger daughter, ordered a copy of Tyler Childers’ latest LP and had it shipped right to my front door. It’s pretty great, btw!

And then there’s my wife, who called one of my retail record dealers and asked him to select a couple of albums that he thought I’d love.

“Man, I don’t know,” he said. “Your husband has such broad tastes—one day he’s buying Tammy Wynette, the next it’s Brian Eno." But I’ll do my best.”

He did. I’ll write more about some of these stranger records another time, because discovering artists like Michael Hurley makes this world worth living in, past 69.

So, from my old friend Les, to my brother Mike, and to my older daughter Pari, my loved ones accompanied me to my favorite non-family homes on earth, and they refused to give me a price limit, though for all of our sakes, I tried to keep it below $125 per person, whatever that says about me and them.

Much of what I got from these gifts were new releases or new copies of albums I have either wanted all my life or decided I wanted in the last few weeks—albums like Dylan’s Oh Mercy!, which Pari bought me, or the latest by Lord Huron, which she also included. Les got me a new copy of Elvis’s Imperial Bedroom (his BEST!), and Mike got me Vol. IV of Johnny’s American Artist series, all of these, again, brand new copies.

And with their help and a bit of digging on my own, I came up with these fine specimens to add to the bursting at the seam shelves that I had so recently ordered.

A band Les recommended to me maybe 1000 times is The Delines. I found a copy of their 2018 release The Imperial (El Cortez Records LDECOR46LP) for $20. It’s a quality record through and through—very subtle and as if you or I or both of us were sitting in a bar somewhere in New Orleans—nothing fancy, nothing seamy, or at least too seamy—and these guys were giving us everything we could want in cool, lo-fi lushness. Could be a little depressing, so use accordingly.

Mike can verify that I have never been a fan of Aerosmith, at least as the brother he’s known. Funny thing: the night before I went shopping with Mike, I raised a question with some of my friends back home about what they thought Aerosmith’s best song was. My argument was/is for “Sweet Emotion.” They chimed in with “Janie Got a Gun,” “Last Child,” and the almost necessary “Walk This Way.” I asked about “Dream On” and they agreed it was fine, too. I’ll stand by “Sweet Emotion,” and even more so, because there awaiting me as Mike and I wandered into Horizon Records was the seminal Toys in the Attic ( CBS PC 33479 1975) for a whopping $12. It’s got “Uncle Salty,” too, a song I’m afraid I also know.

At my other favorite store, Cabin Floor Records, I was hoping for some other vintage Nancy Sinatra. If I could explain my obsession with certain artists, I would, but if you haven’t listened to her in a while, or ever, check out her country album as well as the required “Boots.” No Nancy in the bin this day, but there was an unopened copy of Come Fly With Me from back in ‘67 by her dad for $65. I couldn’t pull the trigger, though there’s always next time. What I did get was Frank’s Cycles (Warner/Reprise 1027 1968) for $12. It’s in NM condition and features the title cut, “Moody River,” “By the Time I Get to Phoenix,” “Little Green Apples,” and “Gentle on My Mind.” I guess Frank had a thing for Glen. And for those who might remember the 60s and especially “Rowan and Martin’s Laugh-In,” there’s a photo on the back cover of Frank and Tiny Tim. Makes you think.

Cabin Floor had just been adventuring and I profited once I looked in the Johnny Cash crate. In 1969, the Sam Phillips-less Sun Records released Get Rhythm (SUN 105), allowing John to render songs like the title track, Hank Williams’ “You Win Again,” and John’s own comps, “Mean-Eyed Cat” and “Two-Timin Woman.” Oh, and he does some song called “Oh Lonesome Me,” by someone named Don Gibson, too. This one set me back $10, but according to Joe, it “plays great.”

The other John record features June. In fact, it’s titled Carryin’ On With Johnny Cash and June Carter (Columbia CL2728 1967, $18), and is considered “Rare.” It’s in NM condition and the pair sings “Long-Legged Guitar Pickin’ Man, “It Ain’t Me, Babe,” “Pack Up Your Sorrows,” and “What’d I Say.” They look so happy on the cover, like they knew it was my birthday.

Speaking of Bob Dylan (weren’t we?), so even if I’m put off by those two Christian records he made, I still feel compelled to buy something righteous when I see it. Cabin Floor had a copy of Shot Of Love (Columbia TC37496 1981) for $24. It’s a true 1981 pressing and still in the shrink wrap—NM condition. Actually, I’d never heard the album before, and I really liked the sound, especially the first number, the title track, and “Dead Man, Dead Man.” He got the right background singers, for sure, led by Clydie King, and Jim Keltner and Tim Drummond play drums and bass on it. Look carefully and you’ll discover Ron Wood and Ringo Starr on the recording.

Finally, because so few remember when she and Dylan were leading lights of Folk, I found Joan Baez’ 1970 LP, blessed are… (Vanguard VSD 6570/1) for $8. Along with “Heaven help Us All,” “Help Me Make It Through the Night,” Ocean’s “Put Your Hand in the Hand” [now there’s a Christian popper for you], you also get Joan’s version/hit single of “The Night They Drove Old Dixie Down,” where, as I think Dave Marsh (or was it Greil Marcus?) once lamented, she turns Robert E. Lee into some sort of steamboat. And maybe he was. Weirdly, hers was the first version of this song that I ever heard.

And maybe it was hearing Joan’s version and then realizing that The Band did it first that clued me in on what musicians were up to when they weren’t trying so hard just to be chartbusters.

It’s a long road and so much to sift through—both in the crates around me and in my memories of the music that shaped me.

Thanks for reading!