Fetish Properties: Peel Slowly and See.

I get by because of the people who make a special effort to shop here – mostly young men – who spend all their time looking for deleted Smith singles and original, not rereleased – underlined – Frank Zappa albums. Fetish properties are not unlike porn. I’d feel guilty taking their money, if I wasn’t… well… kinda one of them. -Rob Gordon fictional character in the 2000 Touchstone Film High Fidelity based on the 1995 book of the same name by Nick Hornby.

Today I was feeling anxious and depressed and a little irritable. So, despite plaguing unemployment in a city with less than a million people, I did what I do when I feel shitty; I went to the record store. Now, Albuquerque has, from what I can find three stores that sell vinyl. Two of them are hodge-podge stores that deal in used finds mostly, with a small selection of barely off the map, indie superstars. I could have bought the new LCD Soundsystem or Lady Gaga albums today for like $25 a piece. But I am not interested in these pop darlings of various degrees. I was actually looking for the new album by the Red Dons called Fake Meets Failure and anything by Canadian Rifle. I kind of knew that this search was going to be an inevitable failure on this part. Record stores, in most parts of the country I can seem to find absolutely nothing I am looking for (outside of Seattle and Philadelphia and I am sure, but don’t know, New York City). Part of this is because I refuse to actually keep a list, part of it is because I refuse to pay 20 dollars for most commercial releases (the Fucked Up and Dismemberment Plan were, I hope anomalies). Part of it is just because record store owners no longer know what nitche their city’s residents are into. And considering that so far, Albuquerque seems to be devoid of a true punk rock underground, you can’t blame the record store owners. Those that actually survive, survive on the luck that one population is selling old vinyl that another population wants.

The thing I realized today though, is that the value of vinyl is based solely in the now. I’m not a big ebay kind of guy. I have never bought any records on ebay and only sold a few there, which I made a modest profit. Not the $50 dollars for some obscure semi-known indie rock band or that limited 500 pressing of the local hardcore band that actually toured the states a few times. I suspect some of the vinyl I own might fetch me some money, but I couldn’t tell you if the value was worth shit or not. Case in point, that D-Plan reissue has the song “Since You Died” on it, which was previously only available on a short run of 7″ from DeSoto records a few years ago. Up  until last week, that 7″ probably could have netted me at least $50 bucks. Now that the song is more widely and currently available, is that 7″ worth anything to anybody?

See, today, I bought Andy Warhol, the first album by Velvet Underground and Nico. I paid just over 12 dollars, for what appears to be a pretty damn pristine 1967 pressing of the album. I bought it, not because I am a huge Velvet Underground fan; generally I think Lou Reed was a good song writer that didn’t know how to perform his own songs well. I feel similarly about Bob Dylan by the way. I can’t listen to Bob Dylan sing his own music, but do enjoy cover versions of his songs. That’s neither here nor there. I came across this LP, it was in good shape, at a reasonable price and decided, due to the Warhol connection it was time I owned it. Personally, I like the band more when Nico sings, and I probably should have bought the two cheaper Nico LP’s that wold have equaled the same amount of spread I spent. However, those albums lack Andy Warhol art on them. It’s possible this album is a reissue. But there is nothing that indicates it. Either way, I paid what I thought was fair and the guy at the record store (Mecca Records on Central by the way) didn’t figure he’d have his hands on this album for that long. He’d just gotten it in on Friday, so the story was told.

Despite not being the hugest VU fan in the world, owning Andy Warhol (yes I realize it’s not actually called Andy Warhol but his name is on the front cover and he brought us VU so suck it) on 12″ vinyl phonograph record, while not a be all end all to my existence, was clearly something that I coveted in my life. I’m not gonna lie, while writing this, I kept the cover propped upright and looked at it. It’s a beautiful cover, one I would have bought in 1967 had I been a fat ass 33-year-old fuck head who bought dumb records then. What we desire, covet, to an unhealthy, prurient like degree is kind of sad, the value of which, to most people who are watching football today and eating taco bell, is nothing.

The landscape of America is rapidly changing as we lose record stores, book stores, comic books stores, good video stores. The secrets that we have in public are quickly becoming the secrets we have on cyberspace, which feels lonely. My sinuses don’t get bothered by dust when I get on the internet. I don’t hear music that’s interesting or annoying in full on the internet. I don’t stumble upon new, unknown turn on’s on the internet. I type in what I want, and I get it. Almost all of it for free if I want. We are loosing culture. Not just in small city Albuquerque, New Mexico, but everywhere. This same experience could have happened in DC, even if I was more likely to come across stuff on Deranged Records or No Idea. Sometimes, sure I found exactly what I wanted, but the appeal of the record store has not ever really been the instant gratification, but the turning over of unknown and newly loved gems. Like, you already know this I am sure, but the song “Heroin” is fucking epic. I’ve heard it before, but never like the way I just did, the needle bouncing about the grooves of 44-year-old vinyl. Where are we going to find that shit in the future?

The Dismemberment Plan – Emergency and I vinyl issue

The Dismemberment Plan
Emergency and I 2011 double LP pressing
Barsuk Records

It’s hard to believe that one of the most important bands in my life was one that took me a really long time to get into. I remember seeing the Dismemberment Plan play with a bunch of odd ball punk bands in the early nineties in Fairfax, Virginia. That was such an odd time for music. Grunge had come and gone and in the wake and waste of that tidal wave a lot of kids my age had found punk rock, the likes of Black Flag or The Big Boys. Immediately above us was a group of people who were beyond the “punk thing” and were working sounds that were outrageous and unusual. The Dismemberment Plan was one of these bands, but to me, they were just a bunch of cool college kids trying too hard. I thought they were a little too self aware, self-assured and with that a bit pompous. Then things started to change.

Music in Washington DC started to go from really good, to really fantastic. It seemed like every band that existed was stepping up, stepping out and going to new and exciting places with the sounds and beats they were making. Among them of course was The Dismemberment Plan. I began, much through no fault of my own, seeing this band playing shows with bands I liked. And they began to grow on me. Something about the music they were making was well beyond the goofy songs I was used to (I still, to this day, hate the song “Bra”). As I grew up and became slightly less of an asshole-know-it-all-prick I realized that The Dismemberment Plan too had grown up. Though they were still pretty damn sure of themselves, something about that braggadocio became really appealing.

I didn’t know it then, but Emergency & I was the apex of music in Washington DC. Not before and not since has there been an album from a band in that town that had the width and stride that Emergency & I had, both in pure musical performance and in emotional power. The album was rocking, grooving, funky, emotional, funny and totally otherworldly. The reissue, for the first time on vinyl courtesy of the fine folks at Barsuk, has in fact reminded me how this album feels, still like it was made from some other planet in outer space where everyone is intense, smart, emotional and looking to have a really good fucking time. Emergency & I stands up to this day as one of the most original, consistent records ever made. In fact, just writing that and listening to the album as I have been frequently lately, I realize just how much I have understated this album, not only in my public writing but in my personal life.

In 1999 when this album was finally released, I graduated from College, I had broken up with a girl I really loved, I got hired from and fired from my first job. I was still living in the suburbs of my youth at my parents house working full-time and shitty retail job, generally wasting away. It was getting cold that fall, all I was doing was going to shows, getting drunk and high, not getting laid and generally being miserable. I wasn’t quite grown up but I knew I wasn’t really a kid anymore. Emergency & I was that kind of soundtrack album to that kind of life. The linear notes I read today even echoed that sentiment. That it was initially recorded for Interscope as the Dismemberment Plan themselves were trying to reach out further I do not think is entirely coincidental. I was growing up, and so were the Dismemberment Plan.

To this day, the sad, somber lyrics of “The City” remains some of my favorite poetry. The music of that song touches and moves me greatly. There was a period after the Dismemberment Plan broke up that I couldn’t listen to this record, the memories of the time they existed and grew up into the phenomenal Change that would come out two years later, were far too difficult to have come flooding back. Even now, as I sit in my apartment, 1,800 miles from home, on the eve of their reunion in my home city, I am reminded of so many odd, difficult, wonderful and beautiful parts of my past. I am longing for an evening like “You Are Invited”, a confused evening of jilted love, dancing and unwanted, but necessary cross roads. And even I am aware that the only way through is a positive outlook, reminded by the albums fantastic, spacey opener “Life of Possibilities”.

The Dismemberment Plan went far and above what could be expected. There is a reason why there are no successors to the Plan’s music, because they were truly one of a kind. So much of music today is just a derivative of something else. Sometimes that can have very powerful, positive results, but most often it’s just pale imitation. The Clash could have only existed once and so that is true to of The Dismemberment Plan. Emergency & I may be reminiscent of a time and place in history, the result of all the energy in the world at that time, but it’ magic and beauty is that is timeless. Every song feels as urgent, pressing and wanting now as it did all those light years ago.

Ranting like a ranty McRanter!

I am listening to Metallica, typing this on my iPhone, riding the bus home. I am committed to you dear readers. I need to rap about some shit in the music biz that is irking me. I won’t finish before I get home, but any way, lets just settle into it.

#1 – The new Weezer album, Hurley, it has some dude from Lost on the cover. I’ve never seen Lost and so therefor can not comment on the cultural relevancy of said artistic statement. But that’s sort of my point here. Has pop art lost it’s way that it no longer has cultural relevancy or is this a Warholian moment? I have a hard time seeing a universal, nostalgic, or shared fear with thus cover the way Warhol manipulated Cambell’s Soup or car crashes or Jackie O. Is Lost really that stiched into the cultural quilt that this reference has some type of commentary or insight to offer, or has Weezer just gotten that bland and boring? Someone fill me in, please.

#2 – The late, great Dismemberment Plan have decided to reunite for a few shows this summer. I don’t think I am going to make it. Mostly because I am planning on not living on the East Coast when that happens. But I still got excited and decided to check my local listings. I was taken aback when I saw ticket prices were set at $20. This will come off like I don’t believe that they deserve to demand that. And maybe there is some truth. But in the context of my personal history I have seen Fugazi at the nice price of $5. The D-Plan are a non-touring, non-recording entity, doing reunion shows over the course of a few weekends. Does nostalgia really dictate that price? My memories of seeing D-Plan at Fort Reno, TLA, First Unitarian, Wilson Center, that weird club in Fells Point are priceless, and no show they do now will ever, ever, ever match the feelings that I had when I saw them back then. I love that band, LOVE that band, they mean so much to me, their music such a part of my youth and the beginning of my adulthood. But my memories are priceless. But, at the same time, demand will dictate that price. Those tickets will sell out in a matter of minutes. And, they DO deserve to be compensated for their performance. I just wonder what the fabric of music distribution has done to us as consumers, to the artists. Yes, I realize it is not 1995 and you can’t tour on $5 shows anymore and expect to even break even. But that idealism in me is finding it hard to give up the ghost. I realize I am 33, but there is something about the accessibility of a $5 show that appeals to me. The D-Plan were on the verge of breaking a musical ghetto ceiling and never quite got there, no matter there was never a more deserving band. And should they still be around, touring, putting out records in a climate when your own fans steal from you, then maybe the $20 ticket wouldn’t seem so odd to me. But this is a band I saw in Fairfax, VA in a shitty coffee house when I was a teenager. It’s hard to forget about that and separate that from the narrative you have in regards to that band. If you haven’t seen the Plan live, go see them. Closer to 40 now then 20, no doubt those four men with play one of the best shows you have ever seen. They made the most inventive, passionate, sad and energetic music I have ever heard. They were a band truly there own, more then any I have ever heard. A part of me really, really, really wants to go. But I know it won’t be the same, and the distance between me and the city where I first heard those sounds will be immense, both physically and spiritually come January. You can’t go back. No matter  how much you want to, no matter how much you try.