When Vinyl Was the Thing

“Music was my refuge. I could crawl into the space between the notes and curl my back to loneliness.”
― Maya Angelou

I guess I got my librarian gene from my Mom who held onto things that reminded her of softer times when there were no kids or a man in her life. There were a few strange traits I had as a kid that forshadowed my adult personality. I was a nester early on and tried to create my own apartment in the space behind our bathroom windows on Annetta street. I also loved to collect cards and marbles. I was mostly content to amuse myself and when my Mom said "Glen always played really well by himself" my brother said "he's still playing with himself Mom!" The 1950's were a time of collecting for kids, especially baseball cards but when 45 rpm records came out it was a kind of status to have a Dot label record. As kids, we loved to listen to an odd collection of records that had accumulated over the years and if it were raining or some other reason we had to stay indoors we would listen intently to "Little Toot, " Bongo, Jerry Lewis in "the Noisy Eater" and our true favorties "Kermit Shafer's Pardon My Bloopers."

We also had a couple of LIFE magazine compilations of pop tunes or Sports highlights that we memorized like cultured boys and girls would study poerty. We were not cultured. I did not start collecting records unitl around 1967 with just a few that I listened to repeatedly. I never had disposable income for records before and if I had any money as a kid I probably spent it on candy. Before then most listening was to the radio and about a dozen uncool discs found in my parents pathetic stack. My hip brother came back from his Navy tours with a Scott reel to reel tape player and three tapes: Kind of Blue by Miles Davis, Victory at Sea by Richard Rogers and something so forgettable I have forgotten it. My parents record collection was eclectic and paltry. The best of that was Joan Baez that belonged to Cheryl, a Belafonte Calypso record and Manhattan Tower by Gordon Jenkins that was the one record my Dad listened to from beginning to end.

When the family returned from our exile in La Habra my Dad bought a Fisher console and put in a stack of records for show in our fancy front room at 9230. There was some random stuff like Beethoven Violin Concerto in D, Sheherazade by Rimsky-Korsakov, A New Christy Minstrels Christmas album, something by 1001 Strings and easy litening by Billy Vaughn. There was plenty of room for improvement in my exposure to the joys of recorded music but I did buy a Righteous Brothers album at Wallach's Music City and at the end of their popularity a 45 or two including "Easy to Be Hard" by Jennifer Warnes after I saw the stage play of "Hair." By the mid-sixties the Beatles took over the airwaves and it became imperative to own their albums along with a strange new voice from Bob Dylan. I learned about Dylan by going to hootenannies in a pal's garage in Downey that he called "the Hole." A guy named Simpson sang "It's All Over Now Baby Blue" so well I liked it better than the original.

Through these years I was a huge fan of Simon and Garfunkel and probably listened to their discs more than any other group. I used to check out a copy of Bookends at UCLA and sit in the Oriental library and get all mooney over those tunes. When the Summer of Love spread sound flowers all around there were some records you had to find the five bucks to purchase at Music Odyssey or the intimidating Tower Records on Sunset. In the early days you could visit Wallach's Music City and if lucky grab a listening booth where you could literally put a disc on the turntable to decide if you were willing to shell out the bucks to keep the tune forever.

The Doors first album, "Rubber Soul," Da Capo by Love, Wildflowers by Judy Collins and several soul albums by the Four Tops, the Miracles, the Temptations and Supremes were cutting edge for white kids. I deperately scrounged up the dough to buy those must have tunes while working for the Post Office. There were records that were must have and I never had them like the Stones "Aftermath" or Led Zeppelin or Black Sabbath that I never truly liked. Desperately trying to be hip I went for the Who, Procol Harum, Gordon Lightfoot and Joni Mitchell. In trying to be cool I also bought and spent lost hours playing stuff I actually disliked like the Mothers of Invention and Captain Beefheart. Yes, I had an eight-track player in my car but after my tapes were stolen in 1966, the player was ripped off a few weeks later. Bastards got a Herman's Hermits, Broadway Cast Oklahoma, an Iron Butterfly Ball and Buffalo Springfield. When I returned to Europe in 1968 I was informed by Billy Hogan that I should bring a copy of the Doors first album to open chick's doors but when I arrived with the precious disc in my stuff they had no idea who they were and only listened to Cream in England. It was common that groups of young folks would gather, smoke pot and play records that everyone listened to in silence, digesting each line of lyrics from artists like Dylan, Leonard Cohen, Joni, Cat Stevens, Gordon Lightfoot, Simon and Garfunkel and even Iron Butterfly. There were things we doted on I would never listen to again like "Alice's Restaurant" or Love's Third album.

While I was almost always broke I scanned bins and went to thrift stores to buy stuff discarded by the phillistines. I also began to check out things from the libraries I visited, mostly West LA and Leland Weaver. Because Pop records were trashed or missing this lead me to try other genres including jazz, big band, broadway, opera and even March music. At this point I did not even have a record player but borrowed a pretty crappy portable around 1969. Two things happened in the later 1960's that changed everything. Rolling Stone magazine began shaping the tastes of the young and hip sometimes in good directions, sometimes into the weeds. Also, record stores sprung up with independent owners, many of whom were just hippies not wanting a 9 to 5. I used to drive all the way to Santa Monica to visit "Field of Zaad" where the very hip Trey and his ladyfriend gave out good recommendations and had many bins of used discs. Living on the westside there was the excellent selection at Rhino before it got big and haughty, Music Odyssey, and other small shops provided advise and serendipity. Several times I bought an album because of the sleeve. (see "It's a beautiful day" or "Weasels Ripped My Flesh" by Zappa.)

Tower Records on Sunset was intimidating as was all of Hollywood to me in those days but they had inventory. I felt more comfortable spending a fin at smaller spots. There was Licorice Pizza, Aaron's Records, Penny Lane, Poobah in Pasadena, The Warehouse, and the very groovy Sound Cellar on Tweedy blvd. where a cat named Otis spread love and tunes including eclectic choices like Jim Pepper or David Bowie. By 1970 I had my own pad and a rudimentary record player. (the aforementioned Morse) so record buying became paramount to having a worthy space.

There were standard must haves like every Beatles release, Neil Young, Joni Mitchell, Judy Collins, Carol King, the Stones, and the constant seeking of unknown finds or rejecting of hugely popular groups like Jefferson Starship, Led Zepplein or Black Sabbath. We did go soft with Elton John or Cat Stevens and the almighty Dylan. I did take on the daunting early Pink Floyd which put off some friends who wanted hard rock. Living alone with a small income and no TV I entertained myself with music. This meant buying records and weed were my two greatest desires within my $500 a month salary at VWR Scientific but easily covering the $75 rent. That Seminole period was one I shared with Greg and to this day if I play Spirit or Steve Miller, Leo Kottke, Yes or Brewer and Shipley I am sitting in an easy chair across from a young Sheehy.

When I had filled an orange crate with records I felt I knew everything about music including the words to Polk Salad Annie and Hot Ratz. It was at that time that I discovered KPFK and the John Davis Folk show that opened up a plethora of bluegrass, folk and country music. I left my Lynwood home to go find America (see Simon and Garfunkel) but the hippie crash pad I moved to was lots of fun but plenty of angst. The time spent in Little Havana during the Midvale experiment did little to build a collection since I was mostly stone broke and just listened to whatever was blasting on the stereo on the other side of my bedroom wall. It was Who's Next over and over with other stuff brought my roomates like the James Gang or the God awful Jefferson Starship albums Bruce wanted to hear. My time hanging around Augustine Glassworks after leaving a paying job set my finances back severely and reduced music acquistion to near zero. I did listen to John Fahey a lot to relax my nerves but the turn to Glassworks hipness turned out to be pretty disastrous. When Zeke and I headed for Veteran and Ohio I had begun to drift toward folk and some jazz. I liked to hear acoustic guitar along with California rock Linda Ronstadt, Jackson Browne and yes, the Eagles. I confess I listened to lots of the currently reviled eponymous Eagles album. I felt Deperado was written about me, ha ha.

Here was another turning point as I saved up a couple of hundred bucks from my new job at UCLA and bought what was at the time a good sound system. I got a Marantz amp, Yamaha speakers and Technics turntable that produced awesome sound in my deluxe bedroom looking out onto Veteran. Greg had raised the bar earlier when he purchsed the Garrard 0-100 to go along with his Pioneer amp and speakers. It was a time of Doobie Brothers hard rocking and the new systems carried the groove well. I heard the new sound at Saturn street and had to upgrade.

My fine sound system, graduated up from the rickety Morse made every record I had sound new and the sound deeper. The whole true sound obsession was in full force and there were holy words used like Nakamichi, Advent, Bose, AR, and Linn. Five minutes after my system was assembled it was obsolete but still groovy. Unfortunately I had to move from this perfect sound setup by moving to Church Lane where the precious Marantz sat on top of a cinder block bookcase and the huge Yamaha speakers dominated my front room. I was solo again so the stereo was all important but again my funds were always drained. Al Stewart's Year of the Cat was a big hit in my apartment along with plenty of Fareport Convention, Bob Marley and secret pleasures like cornball country and western sounds by Tom T. Hall and Lefty Frizzell.

Living on the Wast side meant lots of exposure to good record stores, especially the rigors of Rhino where pop music snobs judged your purchases but their inventory was awesome. When I took a job with the Central Ticket Office at UCLA my tastes were broadened but stayed primarily with pop and folk. Emerson Lake and Palmer were hot and so was Loggins and Messina. It was also a period of devotion to hard rock and a time to become much more knowledgeable about Classical music with the help of co-worker Chris Williams. Besides Larry Coryell, the Stones and Bad Company I listened to Beverly Sills, Glenn Gould and Itzak Perlman. I became enamored of arias but not entire operas and had some interesting dates with a soprano who dragged me to several operas that were a learning experience. I learned about Scott Joplin played smoothly by Joshua Rifkin from Bob Kanner and began to notice film scores, particularly Jerry Goldsmith, Miklos Rozka and Bernard Herrmann. A big influence were the very cool songs by Tom Waits that we listened to in silence, drinking in the atmosphere and the beer. I had managed to fuck up my enlightening job at the UCLA Fine Arts Department where I was exposed to great artists but also got free seats to many concerts. When I got canned I richly deserved the action but my money and role in society was gone. I lost my apartment, my sweet girlfriend, my beloved cat and my job along with my roots in WLA. I played a lot more Country and Western.

By the time I limped back to South Gate thanks to the largesse of Timo I had many a wooden box of records and created an entire back room of LPs. The hard working turntable was in my rear bedchamber with long wires all the way to the front room where my big Yamaha speakers now sat booming out the tunes. Timo was a good sport and listened to lots of stuff I forced on him during my experimentations but his thing was more the Allman Bros, Santana and Elton John. He put up with me and we had a good time until I went to library school on a whim and he met the love of his life. I brought home records from the South Gate and Huntington Park libraries with Keith Jarret being the best discovery.

Being way too poor to buy anything popular I listened to a wide variety of recorded music and eclectic choices from radio programs. I had an obsession with the old Irish tenor John McCormick and heard lots of bluegrass/ folk by artists who were not well-known. Just as I finished library school the catastrophe of Prop. 13 took my employment legs out from under me and public library positions were impossible to find. I had a Masters Degree and not much else besides closets full of thrift store clothes, a funky rented house, friends in similar condition and my cat Comptess. Ahead was another period of little money working at the Herald-Examiner but a closer connection to current music. Again, I had fun but no money, however I scored the greatest stroke of luck in my life by getting a full-time job at LAPL. My real life had begun. Since I now worked at the wonderful Central Library and had a little money I was able to buy a few albums including Elvis Costello, the Police, Dire Straits and things I had missed the first time around like Tony Bennett and Duke Ellington. However, the bulk of my musical education came from the Audio-Visual department at the library where I could sample all genres and sounds from around the world. This meant I could fall in love with Mexican Corridos by Vicente Fernandez, Zydeco by Clifton Chenier, songs by Edith Piaf and jazz violin by Joe Venuti.

I would take home ten records, listen to a song or two and try to run into something remarkable. Here is another landmark development while at Club Virginia, the coming of cassettes. I rarely bought a recorded cassette but created mix-tapes at a rapid pace in these years. I always liked the serendipity of disparate songs coming after another and became completely enthralled by the flexibility of cassettes where you could record telephone machine messages, TV dialogue, movie lines, and silly commercials. At first I borowed a cassette deck from Paul Breen and as soon as I could get a couple of hundred bucks together I bought a technics cassette player and started making my own tapes. I collected records more avidly to use in the mixes which featured odd stuff from the library, things I grabbed off radio shows like John David or the Nixon Tapes. My first tapes were on BASF blanks and I was spurred on by Greg and Kevin driving across country with cassette player in the Sheehy Datsun. These wildly eclectic mixes had everything from Sousa marches to Rolling Stones to recorded sounds of animals. The years 1976-1983 were probably the most instensive collecting of music ever in my life. I borrowed anything I could from friends but never recorded entire albums. I listened to them as I puttered around the house and chose songs from personal to public library collections. Everything was converted into cassettes that now were upgraded to TDK and became my chief hobby.

In several years I made over 50 mixtapes per annum and exchanged them with friends, mostly Richard Sheehy who lived in Vancouver, Dallas, Storrs and Victoria. These mixes besides music discoveries contained comedy routines, telephone messages now precious, sports calls, and portions of speeches from history. Cassettes were always the best way to make such compilations since they could be edited easily and were simple to record from any source. I taped 90 minutes music shows and combed over them to find things I really liked. I could put anything passing through my amp onto a cassette which inluded VHS taped shows, answering machine cassettes, movies and even a few hilarious porn snippets. When I finished a tape I would get loaded and listen to it closely to determine if I was right in my choices. If a song turned out to be too long or not so good I could replace it on a cassette by just recording over the space. With the library job in 1979 I had more money, little rent, no girlfriend and access to the AV room at Central, along with the weird offerrings at Value Village. The mixes I made in these six years are full of pretty tame stuff but some real gems that cannot be fouind anywhere. The Nixon tapes on KPFK were the best, but CityBilly with Rene Engel on KPPC, John Davis' Heartfelt Music on KPFK, and the hipper than thou shows on KCRW provided plenty of fodder. Sometimes I would get lost in the weird stuff that was amazing but not so great for long listening. There were tendencies toward genres like reggae, old C&W, 50's Jazz, Nat Cole, blues, mariachis, Judy Garland, bluegrasss, folk and even a continuing obsession with solo piano crossing over pop to classical. I had always loved the old favorties of my youth and with cassettes I could put Bobby Blue Bland on a track and follow that with a Bach partita, then a Beach Boys classic, then Temptations, followed by a message from my Dad, followed by Django Reinhardt with Stephane Grappelli.

Making tapes and visiting thrift-stores was a good way to fight loneliness that afflicted me after Timo moved out and got married in 1980. With enough money to buy blanks and lots of free-time I made almost a tape a week in those days of yearning. I was not into buying hot records and skipped some genres like Disco and Punk. I wandered around folk, C&W and just recorded sounds. I listened to an artist playing a flute in a pyramid, dug Swedish fiddle tunes, went deep with Basil Rathbone reading Edgar Allen Poe stories and filled in spaces with rainstorms. The more I collected and exposed myself to broader examples the easier it was for me to accept suggestions from all kinds of music lovers. Tom Nixon of the Nixon tapes was indespensible in opening up my ears to wildly different sounds. It was with him that I began a lifelong love of the singing of George Jones and the minimalist sounds of Brian Eno or Philip Glass. I still liked Rock and Roll and dug Springsteen, the Police, Elvis Costello and 10.000 Maniacs but not entire albums at one time. I finally left my house and took a vacation to British Columbia where I got my mind stretched at the Vancouver Folk Festival. I loved the remarkable voice of Stan Rogers who was played by John Davis but just as I realized his greatness he was killed in an airline accident around 1983. Throughout all of these years I loved Irish music, pre-rock pop singing and an off and on devotion to reggae, especially Peter Tosh, Desmond Dekker and the living prophet Bob Marley. A sign that I was choosing you to be my friend was to present you with a mix-tape. Probably, almost all are in landfills or attics with other junk from the 90's. The celebrations of births were more valuable and probably were kept as keepsakes. I must say the more I made the better I got at producing something I liked but maybe not what they liked. One of my first moves when I had crushes on women was to make them a tape. Sometimes it worked as in my wife who appreciated music but was crazy. I became known for making tapes and finding weird songs. Listening now decades later there is a lot of chaff in the wheat.

Getting married and having a baby did not diminish tape-mixing since I had to stay home a lot anyway and I had Katya to provide adorable additions to my tapes. Probably my favorite mix of all-time is "Our Darling Katya" with congratulations on her birth in 1984 from friends and family. Only a few of those good friends are still living. During the last quarter of the 20th century I made hundreds of gift tapes for friends that may or may not be gathering dust somewhere with great treasures packed inside. One of the few good things that came out of marriage to the wrong woman was her open taste in music including expertise in the Kinks and other British bands that expanded my acceptance of pre-punk. She also loved one of my favorite artists Loudon Wainwright III and we could recite lyrics back and forth. We went to some fine shows but this is about collecting. Suffice it to say the experience of seeing the McGarrigle Sisters, Mary Chapin Carpenter, George Jones at the Wiltern, the Pretenders and a little known lounge singer named Pearl Batalla with my wife were highlights of our short but painful time together. I provided mixes for library events and created many Christmas tapes that still work pretty well in the spirit of the Yule-tide.

The golden age of collecting got a boost when Dan Dupill of the Audio Visual Deptartment at Central allowed staff to take old records that the institution ceased to collect after the horrific fire in 1986. This gave me lots of unique records that might have been played once or twice. I also was able to get dozens of records of pre-rock pop music which were in Value Village or any Yard Sale. LPs were deemed obsolete and were tossed out. I never lost my affection for the classic American song book and loved musicals which were not too big on the hipster turntables of the time. Some of these discs were treasures and dumped because a collector had died and heirs had no idea. This was how I got to grab Chet Baker, Be-Bop jazz, and lots of spoken words including great poets reading their own words. When my marriage ended I lugged thousands of records with me to Dillon and basically focused on recording stuff from the radio and exploring the new technology of CDs which I could grab at Central Library in gray protective cases. Collecting vinyl had become a thing of the past but I still might pick up gifts left at the library by patrons or in bins at junk stores. However, the era of vinyl was over for me but not for my daughter who took up the flag and pays 17 bucks a pop where I once spent $3.99