I’ve been reorganizing my record collection. Well… that’s misleading, my records themselves proudly lack any kind of organization. They sit split between the living room and bedroom unfettered, their translucent plastic sleeves nonchalantly blowing in the slightest of breezes, in any order they wish. They play it real casual. My binary library though – that shit’s just a mess. Unusable, really. Especially since iTunes replaced all of my album art with Life’s a Riot with Spy Vs Spy.It’s been an adventure people ,but one, it turns out, I’m glad to have had.
Lost favorites are seeping out of the digital woodwork. Albums that, it seems, made powerful, if brief, impressions on the acetate of my mind. Songs I thought I’d dreamed somehow find themselves blaring from my HI-FI like a memory your surprised you share with an old friend. Somewhere after reviewing the highlights from the first Saul Williams record, but before gettin’ weird to some of those tunes I can still dig by Bjork (and that one song by Mount Eerie about the Bjork songs I can dig), I found myself in a hidden place. A folder I had “hidden” inside of another. An Eccentric place.
The first time I heard this record, I felt like an idiot. Like a lot of people, I had come to know Soul and R&B through Motown singles, compilations from Atlantic or albums from Stax. It just hadn’t occurred to me that there would be so many regional styles that are buried or, worse, undocumented. I felt like an idiot because I was a punk. That’s pretty much all there is to punk. That’s pretty much all there is to most music. Needless to say, but said with delight, I waited for each following installment eagerly. I can’t explain why sitting here it’s only a distant memory. But I don’t remember a lot of the me that forgot this. I can say that I’m thankful I get to relive the experience.
Anywho, the latest installment is one of the best: