I’ve made three selections for Active Listener’s Out Of The Crates series, although my selections are not old items found by
painstakingly digging through crates – I openly confess, I bought these via the
internet while they were still new and (just) affordable, before they sold out
that is, and before the price suddenly rose sky high. In that sense, they’re not
necessarily hens-teeth rare (which only comes with age), but they have become
damn near Kanye West diamond-teeth expensive. The price will come down
eventually when second hand copies hit the market in however many years it’ll
take for those who bought ‘em’s fortunes to change or half-hearted collectors finally
realize that while it felt cool to own a copy at the time, it no longer feels
necessary. Nevertheless, I harbour a small nerdy pride at managing to secure
myself copies of these while the going was not quite gone and the price not
quite offensive.
The first is a record that I believe was probably released
right at the nadir of LP popularity which was the zenith of CD popularity –
around 1999, when albums like the Tindersticks’s Simple Pleasures were produced in such small numbers on vinyl because the vast majority of the band’s fanbase were CD buyers. Except
for a scant few European vinyl freaks, who else cared about the vinyl? I
bought Simple Pleasures in the year of release, on CD of course. It’s not quite my favourite
Tindersticks album, but then it’s certainly on an equal footing with the other
four of their run of five brilliant albums, Tindersticks I through Can
Our Love. It pops up more often now, but a few years ago, a good vinyl copy
was hard to find, and only at usually outrageous prices. I think I paid
something slightly less than outrageous courtesy of my pathological near-daily checking of auctions sites a few years ago, and finally landed myself a brand new copy. This
album signaled a distinct move away from the dramatic style they’d become
entrenched in with Curtains, to
something more upbeat, soulful, and danceable. It’s a great listen. If you’ve
got the dosh and patience and the tenacity to keep looking, you’ll find a copy
within a few months, without too much hassle.
I am an obsessive
Bonnie ‘Prince’ Billy collector. This man never ceases to amaze me.
Naturally
then, when I heard about the hard cover “limited to only 300 copies”
worldwide
release of his interview book with Alan Licht, which included two ten
inch
records containing six of his songs re-recorded, I jumped on it. Here
was the
deal though – it could only be purchased by residents in England for a
hefty
150 quid. Thus I ordered my copy, had it sent to a friend in London, who
then forwarded
it onto me for another not unsmall sum of royal airmail postage in fat
British pounds. And I am now one of only three hundred suckers in the
world
with one. Nevermind that the songs on the EPs have since been issued on a
single 10” record, with a different cover, titled Now Here’s My Plan. The book of course is available worldwide as a paperback edition. Hey, but at least my double 10” is 45-speed vinyl, a higher
quality listen, so take that you single 10” at 33 rpm-owning schmucks! New
copies of the hardback/double 10” are already going for 300 euros on Discogs.
The songs themselves are enjoyable, though I hesitate to recommend them over
the original versions.
I stumbled on a blog just by chance last year and just at
the right time too. It mentioned the release of the Calexico LP boxset of
albums that had previously been sold on CD only at Calexico concerts, Road Atlas. I got mildly excited, being
something of a Calexico fan, and found what must have literally been the last
copy going on ebay, mint, and only $140 US – it’s original price. The two web
outlets for this mentioned on the Calexico website had both sold out. 1200
copies worldwide I believe. And some actual ma & pa shop in the US still selling their
last copy via ebay for $140. Unbeknownst to them, the set wouldn’t appear on
ebay again for anywhere near the same price, and is currently selling for well over
double that on Discogs. So, I’m glad I got in when I did. Erm…this is where the
fun of record collecting spills over into fetishistic emptiness however. Road Atlas is like 12 records, such a
monolith, so daunting in fact that I have yet to play any of them. It’s like a
project I’ll get to working on one day. But just to prove I’m not in this for
commercial gain, I did at least get as far as ripping off the shrinkwrap and pulling all the records
out to browse their covers, and read the enclosed 12” booklet, meaning my
copy is no longer mint. My saving grace. And that’s the way it should be.
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