THE CHESTERFIELD KINGS Interview: The House of Garage (1985)

© Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 1985/2022
mages from the Internet unless indicated
Facebook page is HERE

A few times a year, weather permitting, I would fly up from New York to visit Buffalo Musicians’ Hall of Famer and friend since high school Bernie Kugel, and would pile into the car of record collector extraordinaire, Mad Louie, the Vinyl Junkie’s car, and head over to Irondequoit, a suburb of Rochester, to make a pilgrimage to the House of Guitars. Besides the obvious front room of instruments, given the name of the place, the back also had a very disorganized yet quite eclectic new and used recording section. But the main reason to head over was to visit the two members of the Chesterfield Kings, who worked there. Andy Babiuk, who took care of the front with all the instruments (and has written books on the gear used by the Beatles and the Stones, and Kings leader and voice/harp Greg Prevost (he also co-wrote the Stones’ book with Babiuk), who skillfully manages the mess in the back.

Greg is a very interesting and charismatic character, with his omnipresent eyeliner and 2-liter bottle of soda (Tab). He’s also a well-recognized collector of hopelessly obscure garage recordings and old television shows.

When we got there, he would be running all over the store at a customer’s request to fetch a recording, or answering the phone. Between, he’s smiles and laughs, and a bit of gossip. He had been there a long time, and eventually retired some years after this interview took place.

This was originally published in FFanzeen No. 13, dated 1985.

The Chesterfield Kings: The House of Garage (1985)

Without a doubt, the leaders of the new garage/psychedelic scene are the Chesterfield Kings. With their self-titled album and single, “She Told Me Lies” b/w “I’ve Gotta Way With Girls,” on Mirror Records, they’ve shown the world exactly how they think music should be a la mid-‘60s raunch’n’roll.

It is clear who they model their live shows after: the likes of the Rolling Stones and the Chocolate Watchband, circa Riot on Sunset Strip (1967), but their music goes beyond that, into an area of relatively unknown classic cult groups that have been cropping up in dozens of compilation albums on labels such as Voxx/Bomp! and Moxie. The more obscure, the better.

The Kings consist of Doug Meech (drums), Andy Babiuk (bass), Orest Guran (organ/rhythm guitar), Cedrick Cona (lead guitar), and as front man, Greg Prevost (vocals/hot harmonica). The Kings is a band who has opened a whole new chapter in how rock’n’roll could and should be played – no holds barred.

Last summer (1984), while vacationing in Buffalo, I headed over to the House of Guitars (the HOG to friends) in Irondequoit, NY, which is a suburb of Rochester. In this humble record and musical instrument store, run by showman Armand Schoenbroeck, who has a few cult albums under his own belt, works Andy and Greg. I didn’t have much of a chance to say much to Andy, as he works in the business front part of the store, but I did get a chance to talk somewhat with Greg.

On this trek, I dragged along two willing cohorts and record collectors, Bernie Kugel, of the band Mystic Eyes, and Mad Louie, the Vinyl Junkie.

What follows is a brief part of the conversation. Actually, I just turned on the cassette recorder and let Greg, Bernie, and Louie do most of the talking. In between constant phone calls by customers asking about purchasing Bruce Springsteen tickets and great music playing on the PA (supplied by Greg), there was a lot of harmless kidding around at the expense of many (myself included), all in the fun of conversation and admiration. Note that “[laughs]” indicates that we were all laughing at that point.

This is technically not an interview in the true sense of the word, but I like to feel it’s informative enough to hold the reader’s interest, and give some insight to at least a fifth of the band.

FFanzeen: Why don’t you have Armand (Schoenbroeck, Mirror Records) help you produce a (garage) compilation album?
Greg Prevost: I could do it, but –
Bernie Kugel: It must cost a whole lot.
Greg: Not a whole lot. Just make up a thousand.
Bernie: You can save it.
Mad Louie: Yeah, since you just blew $400 on singles a month ago. Plus, you took me out to lunch Saturday, so you’re broke for the next 10 years.

FFanzeen: What would you put on it?
Greg: Mostly Upstate (New York) stuff that nobody’s got.

[Phone interruption]

FFanzeen: Looks like you only have about 5 of these CDs [in the store].
Greg: I know. Now it’s like the big thing.
Bernie: The Index album on CD [laughs].
Louie: Rhino put the Turtles Greatest Hits on CD. It’s got an extra song that isn’t on the album.
Greg: Did you get the thing?
Louie: I don’t want a CD player. I heard the thing and I hate it. It sounds too clear.
Greg: I like those scratches.
Bernie: Yeah, you need them on old records. That’s why when we plug in, we don’t plug in all the way. That’s why there’s so much distortion [laughs]. Makes it sound like a ventilator or a fan, like that Jades of Fort Worth album. It sounds like someone has a radio playing through the amp, or something.
Voice over PA: Got any Springsteen tickets left?
Greg: That’s all I’ve been hearing. I think it’s time for some sounds [puts tape on PA].
Bernie: Is this the Phinx re-issue album, or the original?
Greg: This is the 45 [“My Baby Don’t Care”]. I didn’t get the album.
Bernie: Miriam (Linna) and Billy (Miller, d. 2016) keep writing about them in the magazine (Kicks).
Greg: Oh, that’s pretty good, isn’t it? I like that.
Bernie: “Ain’t Too Proud to Beg.” We were going through this whole thing – I think I was with you, Robert – all these crappy record in the Salvation Army. There were hundreds, and “Sid Herring! They let him make records after the Gants?” I almost spit up my Coke.
Greg: Somebody should find him. I tried, but no luck.
Louie: Probably in a fishbowl.
Greg: JD (Martignon, of Midnight Records in New York; d. 2016) told me he was puttin’ out a book.
Bernie: Robert saw it. It’s out already.

FFanzeen: It’s all [about garage] compilations. It lists every song on every album.
Greg: That’s not bad.

FFanzeen: But with all the albums being released, it’s outdated as soon as it comes out.
Greg: He’ll probably have to update it every week. “A new issue each week!”
Bernie: Back from the Grave, Vol. 300 this week. [Laughs] High in the Mid-Sixties, Vol. 16: Lake Placid, New York, 1963.
Louie: Vol. 18: Dumbfuck, Iowa. Boy, Greg (Shaw, Bomp! Records; d. 2004) is really putting out those High in the Mid-Sixties stuff.
Greg: I know. Why don’t they just call them Pebbles records anymore?
Louie: I think he wants to be more regional. Like Greg (Shaw) always says, “We have the Northeast, the Mid-East –
Greg: South. I really like “The South.” That was pretty – vague.
Louie: “16 Degrees West of the East.”
Bernie: “New York City, from Fifth Avenue to 125 Street.” [Laughs] Who’s this (on the PA)?
Greg: You don’t know who this is? It’s the Wild Things. “From Santa Claus, Indiana.” [Laughs]
Bernie: The Wild Things. Oh yeah, from the 19th Santa Claus: Early ’63 to January ’64. [Laughs]
Greg: That was good, Bernie. Santa Claus punk records. I’m surprised they don’t do something like that. There’s a lot of punk Christmas songs. ”
Bernie: Christmas Pebbles. [Picking up Hot Ones by theStandells, from the stacks] You get down to this stuff here; you get “99-1/2 Percent Won’t Do,” “Eleanor Rigby,” followed by Soul Drippin’.”
Greg: Then you know you don’t want to buy it.
Bernie: Primo stuff here. [Laughs] I like this Michael (Taylor, Bad Seeds) stuff.
Greg: [Laughs] You really like that?
Louie: Awful. I told you he likes it.
Bernie: “Zilch, Pt. II.” Aw, that’s a great one. [Laughs]
Greg: Oh, it is good. [Laughs]

[Phone interruption]

Bernie: [Holding up a Chocolate Watchband album from Eva Records, whose liner notes Greg wrote.] Oh, good liner notes. How much did you get for this one?
Greg: A free copy of the record.
Bernie: Did they actually do it?
Greg: They actually sent me a copy. It was bent in half, but they sent me one.

FFanzeen: I’m so ignorant on so much of this stuff.
Bernie: Well, Greg’s gonna be opening up a school. He’s gonna have a punk summer camp.
Louie: All you have to do is sit there, eat shit, drink Tab, and watch videos.
Bernie: “This is a bottle of Tab I have from ’66. One of the test bottles. Let’s see how it tastes.” Have you seen the Richard and the Young Lions video yet? 
Greg: Naw. I heard there’s one out.

[Phone interruption]

FFanzeen: I hear you’re out touring a lot right now.
Greg: I wouldn’t exactly call it a tour. We just do weekend-type things. It’s not worth playing the middle of the week anywhere, ‘cause nobody goes out. Who wants to play for $300 in some hick town?

FFanzeen: It could be worse. Could be like when the Gizmos played at Max’s on a Tuesday and there was no one there. Except for a couple of drunks and me.
Greg: Really? Outrageous.

[Phone interruption]

FFanzeen: Who did this song (on the PA)?
Greg: “The World Ain’t Round It’s Square,” by the Savages. 

FFanzeen: Have you heard the Tryfles do it? 
Greg: The Tryfles? Yeah.

FFanzeen: They’re a fun band.
Greg: Yeah, I saw them once. At the Dive.

FFanzeen: Didn’t I see them open for you at Irving Plaza?
Greg: Was it that night? No, I don’t think so. I think it was the Lyres, the Vipers, Outta Place, then us, then Green on Red. I remember, I was real sick that night. It was horrible. It was the worst night I ever had. We had to cut the set short ‘cause my throat went out. All the way down (to NY) I had this sore throat, or somethin’ like that. All the way down, I’m drinking like two gallons of orange juice. “Maybe my throat’ll get better.” And by the time we got there, it was, like, three in the morning, and my voice was shot. I kept coughin’. It was horrible.

FFanzeen: Everyone there had a good time, though.
Greg: It was okay, but I don’t know. Then that guy was, like, somebody threw somethin’. Then he got beat up by some guy in the front.

FFanzeen: I remember once seeing Iggy (Pop) at the Brooklyn Zoo (club), and right in the middle of the first song, someone thew some ice at him. He stopped the song and said, “Don’t throw that fuckin’ shit at me, man. That ain’t a request, that’s a command.”
Greg: Really?

FFanzeen: Then he started the song from scratch. He was pissed off.
Greg: This (on the PA) is Monoman’s (Jeff Conolly, of the Lyres) favorite record (“What a Girl Can’t Do”).

FFanzeen: Who is it?
Greg: The Hangmen.
Bernie: This is like an oldie to me. It was one of my first records.
Louie: What about this (next song on the PA)?
Bernie: The Swamp Rats? Alright. 
Greg: “Hey Joe,” on CD.
Louie: Know how many versus they could put on one CD? About 30.
Bernie: What’s that ‘70s thing that the Swamp Rats were on?
Greg: Disco Sucks?
Bernie: Not Galacticus [post-Swamp Rats]. No, the other one.
Louie: Yeah, I remember that.
Bernie: Where he does, like, “Somebody Real Famous.” They put, like, some of the songs on an album. It says, “Everything on this album was recorded in a one-track studio in a radio station.”
Greg: They’re real mad about that [fantastic] DJ’s album [pre-Swamp Rat] that Eva (Records) put out. Their manager’s a DJ still, right , and he’s on the radio saying, “Any stores out there carrying this record, we’re gonna smash them all if we come find ‘em,” They’re really mad.
Bernie: What did you think of that Battle of the Garages, Vol. II album?
Greg: There’s some good stuff and some bad stuff.

FFanzeen: I liked it a lot.
Bernie: What did you hate the most about it, besides my song [a cover of the Stoics’ “Enough of What I Need”]?
Greg: I don’t remember. There’s this group called Mystic Eyes on there… 
Bernie: What did you think about that psycho-crap on side two?
Greg: I couldn’t hack some of that stuff. Side one’s pretty good, and side two, there was some stuff...

[Phone interruption]

Louie: Did you sell any copies of this?
Greg: The Lyres album (on Ace of Hearts Records)? Yeah, check your Lyres album. Hold it up to the light. Monoman says if you can see through it, like this purple color, it’s real rare. Mine’s like that.

[Phone interruption]

Greg: Know what I found out? Did you ever hear of the Storytellers? “Cry With Me.” It’s this great snotty-fuzz record. They’re from Jersey. And all the guys or most of them are Asbury Park, in Springsteen’s group.
Louie: Really?
Greg: Yeah. Rick Noll was tellin’ me.
Bernie: [Singing like Bruce:] “Baby, I was pushin’ too hard.”
Greg: This is the best version of “Maggie’s Farm.” The guitar player is great.
Bernie: Who’s this (on the PA)?
Greg: Defiants.” I like the guitar playing. He plays two notes the whole song. Except it does change. I was a bit disappointed when he did the change. Right here. Then he goes right back into the two notes. Oh, up a step.
Bernie: Do you find that there are a lot more independent records still undiscovered out there?
Greg: Yeah, never ending, really. I keep thinkin’ I heard them all but they’re there. Real great stuff.
Bernie: And you thought you could stop with Nuggets. [Laughs]
Louie: It’s getting to the point where you find stuff repeating on albums.
Greg: Yeah, it’s real bad.
Bernie: It seems the guys putting out the records are getting real desperate.
Greg: Yeah, they are.
Bernie: That’s why you’ve got to get into it here.
Greg: Yeah, I’ll put out 30 volumes to start. [Laughs] Box sets. 10 album boxes.
Bernie: Unreleased Independent Punk…January ’65 through March ’65.

FFanzeen: That’s the first box set. [Laughs]
Bernie: “From Bernie’s basement recording studio. We use just a plastic recorder in the corner.”

FFanzeen: “July 7^th, 7:30 to 9:30.” [Laughs]
Bernie: Yeah, that’s it. [Laughs]
Greg: “Three-hour live tape.”
Bernie: “Rising Storm arriving for rehearsal.” 
Greg: “Hear them drive up in a car.”
Bernie: “You guys ready to play?” Record goes on, that’s it. “Next month, Rising Storm, Vol. II.

FFanzeen: They oughta release a record of the guy in Bill Haley’s band who stands there during the applause at the end, just saying, “Bill Haley” over and over. It’s always the same guy.
Greg: Yeah.

FFanzeen: Probably his brother.
Bernie: Yeah, Alex Haley! [Laughs]

FFanzeen: Why do you think they call it the “Roots of Rock’n’roll”? Sorry, ‘couldn’t resist.
Bernie: Heavy metal [on the PA]?
Greg: The Merlyn Tree. “Look in Your Mirror.” 
Bernie: Where can I find more Stoics records?
Greg: I got a whole lot of them in my basement.
Bernie: Acetates? All unreleased stuff?
Louie: He’s got the master tapes, to hell with the acetates.
Bernie: “Bill Ash [of the Stoics] is in my closet.” And the guy, Rich Marachalla, whoever they put on the record [“Enough of What I Need,” as co-writer]. [Laughs] 
Greg: That Stoics record is pretty rare.

[Phone interruption]

Bernie: What about this record [picks up 45 of Alvin Cash and the Registers, “Twine Time”? 
Bernie: What does it sound like?
Greg: It’s soul, but it’s good. It’s like James Brown. It’s Doug’s favorite album, our drummer -

[Phone interruption]

All things must pass to others, so at this point, so did we.

Greg Prevost and Kings in-store performance,
Virgin Records, Times Square, NY, with Nancy Neon
(ffoto by Robert Barry Francos

The conversation, you may notice, is quite dated. The timeframe was obviously before CDs became the standard, and it was discovered that CDs were actually cheaper to put out than vinyl. Now we all have large CD collections of the even rarer cuts that could not be afforded to put out on LP form. And while we all agree that the feel and sound of vinyl is something we all still cherish, the material available on more cold and harsh CDs and now digital has become more of a boon and less of a curse. This especially became true among rarity collectors with the advent of CD-Rs.

As a side story, after this interview was published in FFanzeen, a friend of Greg, Bernie and Louie’s was riding the subway in Manhattan late one night after a long squawk. Asleep across the seats, he woke up and saw a newspaper on the floor in front of him. “Is that Bernie, Greg and Louie? What they hell are they doing in the paper?” Obviously, he was looking at a discarded copy of FFanzeen. Freaked him right out.

During the summer of 2001, on the way back from a photographic road trip, I made a stop off to see Greg at the HOG. It was the first time I’d been there in a least a decade. The phones were just as busy and the customers just as questioning for material (this time, for rap), but shooting the shit with Greg was as light and fun as always. And I made sure to assure him that there was, indeed, no tape recorder. And the Chesterfield Kings are no more. Greg has gone solo and now goes by Greg “Stackhouse” Prevost, singing Americana blues, and is still releasing music. On CDs. 

 

Documentary Review: Physical Media Lives

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2020
Images from the Internet

Physical Media Lives
Directed by Tony Newton
Tony Newton Productions; Vestra Pictures
130 minutes, 2020
www.facebook.com/Physical-Media-Lives-110905843985199
www.tonynewton.net

In 2008, I wrote a blog about collecting records (vinyl, CDs, etc.), called “Reflections on Being a Record Collector (HERE)  that is a philosophical look at what it is like to collect records, which I have done in my life. It is also transferable to film aggregation (VHS, DVD, Blu-ray, etc.).

There are also a number of documentaries on the topic of amassing, such as I Need That Record (2010), 24 x 36: A Movie About Movie Posters (2018), Records Collecting Dust (2015) and its sequel (2018), and even the recent The Vinyl Revival: A Film About Why the Tables are Turning Again (2020). Note that all but one of these have been reviewed on this blog if you search for them.

The point is, whether it’s vinyl, posters, fanzines, or in this case physical media (PM) versions of films, it’s a crossover that can be a mixture of addiction, obsession or a personal, physical (adrenaline/dopamine) rush.

This is Part 4 of the VHS Lives documentary series by British horror genre historian Tony Newton, who directed this documentary. Through a series of interviews, collectors of films discuss what it means to them to physically own the objects as opposed to streaming versions, as their collections are proudly displayed behind them, or in one case, as the collector walks around a maze of shelving units that holds both films and CDs. The collecting bug is a strong mistress.

Just as we used to prowl record stores and outlets like the Sally-Ann (aka the Salvation Army), the film collectors will file through flats of cases in stores from high end retail shops to the discount bins at places like Walmart. And yes, Sally-Ann, flea markets and on-line sources (e.g., eBay, Facebook), as well. Film and record collecting are two different sides of the same coin and mindset. In fact, some of the people interviewed here focus on both vinyl and PM.

Informally, the film is broken up into section topics, such as favorite kind of medium, be it VHS, laser disc, etc., varieties of genres (most are horror, which is no surprise), how their collecting habits were initiated (often with showing the film that started it all), and the role of nostalgia.

What I find interesting, and this is also true for LPs as well, the majority of the collectors are male; of the dozens interviewed, two or three are female. The people who share their stories here range from independent cinema directors, actors, vlog reviewers, and pure collectors, including, noteworthily, actors/vloggers Shawn C. Phillips (who also helped produced the documentary) and Dave Parker (aka Mrparka).

Most record collectors I know also accumulated gig flyers, band posters and tee-shirts, and multiple print fanzines. Lord knows I have a basement full of most of these. An interesting aspect for me here is that there is also a spillover for film collectors, usually in toys, such as action figures, prop copies (e.g., Freddy Kruger’s glove, Jason Voorhees hockey masks), and posters (including theatrical art or images of favorite characters, such as the IT clown – both generations – or slasher icons).

Another interesting aspect to me is the discussion between PM and online streaming, and how similar it is to record collectors pining for the LPs where you have the product artwork and literally being able to hold something in your hand, as opposed to it being in the Cloud. One reverse aspect, humorously, is that with record collectors, many like the analog sound of LPs over digital, but with those collecting films, they tend to like the sharpness and clarity of the new media (4K Blu-ray, for example) over the old grainy ones (VHS), with some exceptions, such as those espoused by Newton.

Streaming versus PM is a common topic here. The fear of streaming – and rightfully so – is that anything can happen to the stream, be it the company going under, buffering, or a glitch, and you can lose everything. I lost a lot of images when Webshots went under, for example. Yes, with discs, you own them, but one thing I have learned as a Media Ecologist is that all technology is temporal, and in time, the medium will progress, and old technology will become obsolete. Remember the floppy disc? Try and find a computer that has a slot for it now. It is difficult to find a VHS player these days other than a garage sale because companies have stopped making them.

Pretty soon, DVD players will be swamped under the Blu-ray technology (yes, right now you can play DVDs on Blu-rays, but I’m trying to make a point, so cut me some slack, Jack). Think of all the people, including some here, that state they had the film in DVD and switched them out for Blu-ray. And as someone else here says, who knows what will come after that. Imagine having 4000+ DVDs and Blu-rays, and nothing to play them on. That’s my big fear. It’s hard enough to find a new turntable or stylus that is decent. Yes, sometimes they come back, such as vinyl (as at least one interviewee points out in the film) because, as Marshal McLuhan said, when a technology becomes obsolete, it comes back as art. But it is not the same when it comes to the technology that plays them. In one of the interviews near the very end, Newton discusses this possibility.

Occasionally interspersed among the interviews are some cool commercials and even a trailer for a B-film. That was fun. While the documentary remains interesting throughout, it does feel a bit long at over two hours, with bits that certainly could have been in a DVD/Blu-ray’s “Deleted Scenes” section. Hey, extras mean a lot to these collectors as so many of them mentioned them. Overall, though, it was a thoroughly enjoyable watch.

Physical Media Lives Trailer: TBD

Review: The Vinyl Revival: A Film About Why the Tables are Turning Again

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2020

Images from the Internet

The Vinyl Revival: A Film About Why the Tables are Turning Again

Directed by Pip Piper

Blue Hippo Media; Wienerworld; MVD Entertainment

43 minutes, 2019 / 2020

www.thevinylrevivalfilm.com/

www.bluehippomedia.com

www.wienerworld.com

www.mvdb2b.com

Seven years ago, British director Pip Piper released a documentary entitled Last Shop Standing (see review HERE). In it, he opined about the closing of Record Stores in favor of on-line shopping for digital music.

But, as I have stated before, including in the Last Shop Standing review, social philosopher Marshall McLuhan once posited that when a technology becomes obsolete, it comes back again as art (it’s one of my favorite “McLuhanisms”). The revival of the vinyl record is a perfect example of that idiom.

For a while, after the CD explosion in the late 1980s and into the 2000s, digital media overtook the physical LP, largely in part thanks to the greed of the record companies. CDs were much cheaper to produce, but the costs to the consumer were higher so the profit margin was chop-licking good. How did they get a way with it? They would include “bonus tracks” on their CDs that were not available on the 12’-ers, so fans would buy the digital form for the extra material. Then the record companies would say, “See, people want CDs,” and vinyl versions of releases began to disappear.

But the irony is that once music became digital, it was also easier to copy in almost pristine sound to the original. At least there was still the CD cover art and inserts, which were miniscule in relation to the 12-inch jacket. But even that was better than the elusive digital MP3, which was easily shared, stolen, or whatever you want to view it as, and was a standalone without art or liner notes. The appeal of these physical art “extras” had been underestimated by the companies that released the music, though collectors especially were aware.

Graham Jones

A good way to place this film into a context is to see it more as either a companion piece to the original, Last Shop Standing, or better still, considering it is half the length of the previous one, as an addendum, to bring it up to date. Many of the same people are involved, such as Piper and Graham Jones, who wrote the books on which this and the previous documentary is based.

Graham and Pip travel around Britain to independent record shops (no box stores), talking with the owners and workers in their environment. The last film was a bit on the depressing side, but this one has a totally fresh, new, and upbeat attitude which is smile-inducing to those of us (well, me, anyway) who have had a history of record collecting and have stood going through racks of used records until our legs were numb and fingers bruised from flipping.

An interesting point is made early on, and this is something I have pondered for quite a while, and that is the brilliance of Record Store Day. It’s a day where all record stores have gigantic sales at the same time, and people who are generally too busy in their real lives to journey out for their hobbies, will set aside the time and make a day with it (note that comic book stores, also having a revival, do the same thing). To a devotional collector, any day is Record Store Day, but for the casual fan, it’s a genuine celebratory holiday to save for, like Xmas (though the products are usually for oneself). In my heyday of collecting, going to stores like Sounds (St. Mark’s Place, NYC, managed by Binky Phillips), the House of Guitars (aka The HOG, in Rochester, NY, which included a talk with members of the Chesterfield Kings who worked there), and Newbury Comics (Boston), was a given, when the opportunity arose, or on weekends. The people who worked there were chums you talked to, discussing new sounds and old records. I remember no matter where I went, Greg Shaw and his Bomp! Records was always a topic that came up.

I mention this here because that is the vibe you get from the people interviewed by the film crew, that it’s not just the record, it’s the community, but one needs a watering hole, as it were, in the case the record shops. It is also a way for the new artists to get heard with in-store performances. We meet independent bands like the Orielles, a member of the Horrors, and a focus near the end by the trio Cassia, who explain how the relationship between the band, the independent stores, and the fans all work together in ways that go beyond big business record label promotions.

One of the side aspects of films like this, which is quite a favorite to me, is to keep hitting the pause button when they show a wall of records and posters, and see if there are any I recognize. I do this on a lot of documentaries, to see what records (or books) are on the shelf behind the person being interviewed, but it is especially thrilling (yes, I’m going with that word) when it comes to record shop walls. For example, it was fun seeing a sticker for Yo La Tengo, or the Ramones’ End of the Decade LP from 1987, among others.

Another nice aspect is that most of the interviews are in situ, meaning in a store or just outside of it. We get to hear from Nick Mason (Pink Floyd drummer), Philip Selway (Radiohead drummer, etc.), Adrian Utley (Portishead guitarist), and Joel Gion (The Brian Jonestown Massacre tambourinist), but also from Professor of Culture and Philosophy, Barry Taylor (one of his books is Sex, God, and Rock ‘n’ Roll: Catastrophes, Epiphanies, and Sacred Anarchies), and the great-named rock and roll cultural historian Dr. Jennifer Otter Bikerdike, author of Why Vinyl Matters: A Manifesto from Musicians and Fans, among others. Whether you question their tastes or not is irrelevant to what they are saying about the medium.

My favorite interviews, though, as I said, were with the store owners and workers; there isn’t much by people who are just fans without the credentials to explain their love when it isn’t their career. That why I wrote a blog back in 2008 called “Reflections of a Record Collector” (HERE). 

One of the almost subliminal messages this film seems to suggest is that the present record store consumer tends to be mostly in their fifties, or in their twenties, with a gap in-between from the later CD years of the 1990s and early 2000s. I would have liked to have heard some more information about that, and whether that’s real or in my head.

This documentary fills a void just like the record stores are doing, to help explain the psychology of the modern collector, what makes them different from the older ones like me, and to just revel in the joy that is vinyl.

And through this all, I thought of the most fanatical record collector I know, Mad Louis the Vinyl Junkie, in Buffalo, NY, who has never stopped collecting vinyl (and other media), and I dedicate this review to him.

Review: Records Collecting Dust II

Text © Robert Barry Francos / FFanzeen, 2018

Images from the Internet

Records Collecting Dust II

Written, produced and directed by Jason Blackmore

Ralph Wayne’s Vintage Backyard Films / Riot House Pictures / MVD Visual

78 minutes, 2018

www.recordscollectingdust.com

www.riothousepictures.com  

www.mvdvisual.com

The subtitle for this DVD is “…a documentary film about the music and records that changed our lives.”

In the original film from 2015, which I have yet to see, the focus was on 1980s West Coast Punk. For this sequel, we are switched to the East Coast punk scene of that period. In the pre-digital world – including CDs – the early 1980s was the last great hurrah for records in the pre-Marshall McLuhan-esque “replaced technology comes back as art” (paraphrased) world of new vinyl. Bands started labels or just put out their own stuff. I still remember heading down to Disc-O-Rama on Eighth Street in Greenwich Village to see the new indie recordings coming out and pick the ones I wanted. Thanks to FFanzeen, I was also sent many by the labels directly to review that I would never have seen, from both East and West Coasts, as well as in-between.

I firmly believe that record collecting is both an art and an addiction that can catch from one to another (e.g., I learned from a high school friend, and passed it on to a FFanzeen reader back in the day who has never really forgiven me). However, I will add that unless one has the collector “gene” it’s a moot point. Here is some of my record collecting philosophy called “Reflections on Being a Record Collector.” 

The focus of the film – well, the first half anyway – isn’t really about collecting, but more about what the subtitle posits, the song that sparked interest in music. Lots of Beatles, and even odder stuff like Kay Kaiser’s “Three Little Fishies” (I knew that song from a Zero Mostel LP, which I still have).  Along with the Fab Four, the most common mentions are Led Zeppelin and KISS (spelled both KISS and Kiss in the captions).

Most of those interviewed, which we hear in bursts of two or three sentences at a time, are mostly musicians, primarily in Boston and the Washington DC area, in groups like Mission of Burma, Agnostic Front, Helmet, the Cro-Mags, the Freeze, the FUs, and so many others. It’s definitely a hardcore roll call.

One of the subtle accuracies of this documentary is that historically that I have noticed is that while there are women who are collectors, the overwhelming majority are male. The Yin side of the equation is presented here by Amy Pickering and Cynthia Connolly, both of Dischord Records. Even many women I know who have encyclopedic knowledge of the music, most of them are free of the collecting virus, which I totally respect.

                                                            

There are sort of different chapters, including “your first record,” “who was a key influencer” (usually an older sibling or cousin), “the record that changed your life,” “the last record you purchased,” and “if your house was on fire, what three records would you save?” Personally, I think that last one is a ridiculous question only because there are too many I like and by the time I chose, I’d be a french fry. What I find interesting is most of the answers are along the lines of “here is this rare record so I could sell it to either buy more records or fix my house.” My guess the point of the question is what are the important records to you as a metaphor, not as a reality. I have rare records, but in this context I would answer differently; that being said, Ian MacKaye gives my fave answer.

Overall, this is an incredibly fun film, with strong nostalgia strings to pull at your heart. “Oh, yeah, that’s a great record,” or “Wow, I hate that one,” will shine through, though there is bound to be some “Oh, Jeez, I didn’t even know that existed, and now I want it!” All bound to bounce around your noggin as you’re watching. There’s not a dull moment.

The bonus material on the DVD includes the original trailer and 20:57 of additional interview footage. While it’s totally understandable why this never made the final cut, the first third is a load of fun as those interviewed show off their prize possessions. For the next third, it’s kind of a mesh-mash of different ideas, which is also interesting. The last third, though, is one long rambling interview that really doesn’t say that much by someone I strongly admire, FYI, and if it was someone else it probably would never have seen the light of HD day.

I did have one issue with this: every single person interviewed is either connected to the music industry behind the scenes, or are musicians (one who even admits he doesn’t collect vinyl, but only digital…does that even count?), but what about collectors who collect for collecting’s sake, i.e., love of the music alone? There are so many fanatical record collectors who I find absolutely fascinating that never played a note in their lives. I know some “hopelessly obscure” collectors, and they are much more interesting because they didn’t create the music, but their devotion is just as – err – hardcore. Perhaps that can be film Number 3?

Finally, I realize this has nuthin’ to do with nuthin’, but the subtitles are a bit psychotic. For example, it states “The Monkeys” (though it’s spelled correctly later on), “Cool and the Gang,” “Henry Rawlins” (Rollins), and then another early one has a collector referring to “Corvette’s”; for those of us old enough to know, it’s EJ Korvettes, a department store where many of us did our initial mainstream record shopping. Here’s my totally unrelated Korvettes vinyl story: When I was in high school, I was with someone who bought the Woodstock soundtrack; when we got it home we found it skipped, so we brought it back to the store. Of course, they had to test it to prove it was actually defective. The sales clerk put on the record just as the phone rang, so she ran out, not realizing that the turntable was connected to the store’s PA. All of a sudden, through the entire store, you heard Country Joe yell echoing, “Gimme an F…, Gimme a U...,”  Good record collecting times.