The Spin

The Band: The Band

Just as I was about to proudly leave Tunes with my new (used) copy of Big Pink, I look down and see this record—its five grizzly faces staring back at me, beckoning me, rewarding me with their gazes. I have been looking for this record for some time now…and it is finally mine.

Check out the quote on the back of the jacket:

“I’ll be down to get you in a taxi honey/ Better be ready by half past eight/ Now, honey don’t be late/ I want to be there/ When THE BAND starts playing…”

It’s the opening lyrics from Darktown Strutters Ball. Here’s a rendition done by Fat’s Waller.

They still look rather young and fresh in these gatefold photos.

I particularly like the one bellow of Levon and Robbie working out some number together. Who knew what magic would come from that room…and, sadly, what eventual acrimony…

The Band: Music From Big Pink

Well now ain’t that just a sumbitch! Not two days after I concluded with (what I thought would be) my final entry in the The Band category, Cydnee and I wander into Tunes in Voorhees before catching a flick at The Ritz and what to my wandering eyes should appear…but Music From Big Pink, The Band’s seminal and most celebrated studio effort (and long-looked-for addition to the DiUlio record collection). It was $8—a well spent $8 if you ask me. Great condition, great tunes, great times. I’ll let the record tell the rest of the story.

Wonderful how the title appears nowhere on the front (that painting is by none other than Bob Dylan, by the way) but rather in giant letters on the back. Nice touch fellas.

This is the inside gatefold. You can’t see it, but on the left side of that enormous photo it reads: NEXT OF KIN. I’m assuming this is literal? That these are The Band’s actual family members? I’d like to think so.

What a great shot of the guys. They look like they just stepped out of a Civil War documentary. Fitting. Oh, and why is it called Music From Big Pink? Here ya go:

The Band: Stage Fright

This is the final installment in The Band realm. Don’t have much energy for a lengthy post this morning, so here’s a little nip from Wikipedia:

Stage Fright is the third studio album by Canadian-American group The Band released in 1970. Much more of a rock album than its predecessors, it was a departure from their previous two efforts in that its tone was darker and featured less of the harmony vocal blend that had been a centerpiece of those two albums. It also included the last two recordings by The Band of new songs credited to pianist Richard Manuel; both were co-written with guitarist Robbie Robertson, who would continue to be the group’s dominant lyricist until the group disbanded in 1976. Nonetheless, the tradition of switching instruments that had begun on the previous album continued here, with each musician contributing instrumental parts on at least two different instruments. The booklet alludes to the fact that Levon Helm was high on heroin while recording “Strawberry Wine”.

Three cool facts about this record (that little “Levon was high on heroine while singing ‘Strawberry Wine’” factoid notwithstanding):

Cool Fact Number 1) It was produced by Todd Rundgren (an up-and-comer at the time) and just you wait till we get to the “R’s”, because I have come to love Mr. Rundgren’s repertoire. He was visionary and ahead of his time. Also, note the inclusion of Glyn Johns in the liner notes. This from Wikipedia:

Two different mixes of the album were prepared, one in the US by Rundgren and one in the UK by Glyn Johns. The Johns mix was selected for the original LP release and all subsequent reissues on Capitol (included the expanded 2000 remaster), while Rundgren’s mix was eventually released on a 24k gold CD reissue of the album by the DCC Compact Classics label in 2004.

Cool fact Number 2) This was recorded at The Woodstock Playhouse, where a very good friend’s girlfriend performed three musicals two summers ago.

Cool Fact Number 3) Included in the original release was an insert poster photo of The Band. Sadly, that was not included in the copy I got from The Prex for $4. 

The Band: Northern Lights-Southern Cross

Good afternoon Band fans! Here’s another installment from Levon-Garth-Robbie-Rick-Richard Central…and it’s a good one.

Last summer I was on a mission to find as much Band material as possible. Typically, I’d come across some worn-out version of Northern Light-Southern Cross (the group’s sixth studio effort) and it was always greatly overpriced. Then, while thumbing through the good ‘ol Princeton Record Exchange (that’s The Prex, for those of you in the know), I found a copy that only carried a $2 price tag. Welcome home!

The cover photo—which I really do love—matches the atmosphere of this record’s music perfectly: slightly melancholy, slightly brooding, and very organic. Of course there are the gems we all know and love—”Ophelia,” “It Makes No Difference,” and “Acadian Driftwood”—but there are also some deeper cuts here with which I was previously unaware. “Jupiter Hollow,” for instance, is now one of my favorite Band compositions (even if Robbie Robertson took credit for it…and every last track on here).

The Band: The Last Waltz

When I first saw The Last Waltz—a documentary by Martin Scorsese that chronicles The Band’s final live performance on Thanksgiving Day, November 25, 1976—it was at the behest of a feature in The Believer magazine, which positioned the performance (as well as its documentary film) at the apex of all rock and roll ever hoped to be…and would never be again. Seemed like a lofty claim. But then I watched the film, and I knew exactly what all the fuss was about.

Sure, you’ve got The Rolling Stones, The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, The Who…but of these rock giants The Band is undoubtably the most American in its ethos and therefore most decidedly our band (ironic, considering that its front man/lead guitarist is so very Canadian). Because of this, The Last Waltz not only feels like a farewell to one of the most talented and ambitious musical acts of our time, but a farewell to some nameless chapter in American history; a sign-off to an age I, being 30, never knew but nonetheless pine for in a way Sal Paradise might grow melancholy at the sound of passing trains. Also, the music is fucking fantastic.

Just a few weeks before finding this gem, a good friend of mine had come upon a flawless copy at the Princeton Record Exchange that he purchased for himself. I like to think it was the abject power of my reckless envy that willed my copy into existence when I walked into Reckless Records in Chicago last winter and saw it perched upon a display shelf. It might as well have been bathed in heavenly light and some kind of blustering Bach concerto.

I’ve been wanting a vinyl copy of this record for ages—well, let’s say 10 years, ok?—and I could barely avoid tripping over myself as I made to retrive it. When I picked it up, however, the first thing I noticed was that it was very light. Far too light for a live, tripple-disc LP with multi-page insert. But then I realized Reckless Records has an interesting system. For its used material they only display the jackets. Customers must then take the jacket up front, whereby a helpful hipster will then retreat to the stock room and retrive the materials that are supposed to be contained therein. It’s a good idea when you think about it. Not only does it thwart the occasional thief, but it also prevents the records themselves from being perpetually drawn in and out of their protective sleeves, adding unnecessary wear and tear.

I had no idea what condition the records would be in when I asked the clerk to have a look. The $15 price tag gave me some indication. They were probably in decent shape…but I couldn’t help being a bit skeptical. I would have paid $15 for this set even if each of the records had been used as puppy pee pads or scratching posts for some reclusive cat lady’s gaggle of deranged felines. If they were really in such pristine condition, shouldn’t the set cost just a little more?

Apparently not. The three records were in truly flawless condition, as was the multi-page pullout booklet that offers vintage color photos of The Band, the concert hall, and the group’s lineup of legendary musical friends who “showed up to help us take it home.” Here’s a photo, for instance, of the way the place looked before the concert began. The Band treated all 5,000 guests to a Thanksgiving dinner:

There’s really not much more I can say about this concert that hasn’t already been said. I’m simply thrilled to have this in my collection. I’ll leave the last word up to Robbie Robertson:

Woody Allen: Hannah And Her Sisters Soundtrack

This is my favorite Woody Allen film—and this is its vinyl soundtrack, a compilation of jazz, American standards, and Bach fit for any Sunday morning this side of tomorrow. I can’t remember where I found this but I know it was sometime in the last year.

The Allman Brothers: Brothers and Sisters

I’ve mentioned it once before, but on the director’s cut version of Almost Famous, writer/director Cameron Crowe devotes an entire special feature to his Top 10 Albums of 1973 (the year the film takes place). Finding Brothers and Sisters at the Princeton Record Exchange last summer brought my total to nine (if only there was a copy of Houses of the Holly out there somewhere that didn’t cost more than $20…oh life, thou woulds’t be completeth).

This was the Allman’s most commercially successful studio effort and not only includes the sweet sweet instrumental drive anthem “Jessica,” but also the band’s only No. 1 single, “Ramblin’ Man.” This copy is in fantastic shape, with barely any wear and tear on the jacket and not a single pop on the record itself. Here’s a little word from Wikipedia about the jacket photos:

“The front album cover features a photograph of Vaylor Trucks, the son of drummer Butch Trucks and his wife Linda. The back cover features a photograph of Brittany Oakley, the daughter of bassist Berry Oakley and his wife Linda.

“The album’s inner gatefold cover art featured a large photograph of the extended Allmans family — band members, roadies, wives, girlfriends, children, dogs, all in a seemingly idyllic, long-haired, multi-racial Southern setting — a setting that would be rent asunder by internal frictions and outside developments over the next few years.”

The Allman Brothers Band (Self Titled)

Don’t have too much to say about this one. Found it in Philly (can’t recall the exact location) for a buck. I gave it a spin the other day and enjoyed it well enough. It’s the band’s debut record and this particular pressing is in really excellent shape, especially considering semi-ragged condition of its jacket.

As for the cover shots, this from Wikipedia:

“In April 1969 the Allman Brothers Band moved from Jacksonville, Florida to Macon, Georgia. They first rented a house at 309 College Street. The front album cover photo was taken at the entrance of the College House (now owned by Mercer University) right next door at 315 College Street. The back cover photo of the album was taken at the Bond Tomb at Rose Hill Cemeterylocated at 1091 Riverside Drive in Macon.”

I particularly love the inside gatefold shot of these southern rockers all naked and chillin’ in the water. Makes me think of the Mountain Jam festival I’ve twice attended.

The Allman Brothers: Eat A Peach

One of the greatest benefits of this record project I’ve undertaken is that it’s forcing me to listen to every single album in my collection (a feat I most certainly have never completed before). And just the other night, as Red Dog and I sat down for a sit down on the DiUlio porch, I started spinning this copy of The Allman Brothers’ legendary Eat A Peach. For the next hour, Red Dog and I consistently kept saying to one another, “I had no idea this song was on here too!” The record is, in a word, fantastic.

The jacket, as you can see, is a bit damaged (both by water and time), but the record itself is in fine condition. On it you’re going to hear such classics as “Little Martha,” “Melissa,” and “Blue Sky.” While listening, you can also treat yourself to some intense psychedelic gatefold artwork by J.F. Holmes and D. Powell. Below is a panoramic, which Red Dog and I stared at for the better part of a half hour (and that was before we had even had a sip of rum)… 

Here are two close up shots, so you can dig it for realz. Seriously, spend some time on this:

And the other side. I particularly like the naked chick riding a flying frog as it breathes fire…

When it comes to so-called “southern jam rock” I can only stomach so much. Eventually it all starts blending together into some grand boring homage to musical masturbation. It’s one of the reasons I’ve never truly loved At Fillmore East. However, this record has just the right blend of abbreviated ballads (“Melissa” is simply sublime) and drawn out jams (sides 2 and 4 are both dedicated to one single track called “Mountain Jam”).

So, what about that apocryphal story that the album is called Eat A Peach because it was the last record featuring Duane Allman and Duane Allman was killed on his motorcycle by a peach truck? Well, turns out that’s not true. This from the album’s Wikipedia page:

“The widespread story regarding the origin of the album’s title, that the truck involved in Duane’s fatal motorcycle accident was a peach truck, is not correct; the truck involved was a flatbed lumber truck. Rather the album name came from something Duane said in an interview shortly before he was killed. When asked what he was doing to help the revolution, Duane replied, ‘There ain’t no revolution, it’s evolution, but every time I’m in Georgia I eat a peach for peace.’ The album’s name was originally slated to be The Kind We Grow in Dixie and the artwork for the album showed a peach. Band members were dissatisfied with the name and the image suggested Duane’s quote instead.”

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Ryan Adams: Ashes & Fire

Time to round out my Ryan Adams collection (until, of course, I find my next acquisition…which I’m hoping will either be both Love Is Hell EPs or Heartbreaker) with this sweet pressing of Adams’ most recent studio effort, Ashes & Fire. I had a harder time getting this than I thought I would.

As voracious a fan as I am, I set my calendar months ahead of time to remind me two days before Ashes & Fire was to be released. When the blessed day arrived I immediately started calling record stores to reserve a copy…only to be told it hadn’t yet come in (but we got the CD if you’d like that instead).

After hunting around a few Adams fan blogs with mounting frustration, I discovered that PAX-AM (Ryan’s self-formed record label) had to delay the vinyl release by more than a month. Oh the torture! It’s like that moment when, as a kid, you think you’re getting the brand new Sega Genesis as soon as your dad comes home from work, only to find out that he had to work later than the stores were open and that it would have to wait until tomorrow. BLASTED!

Alas, time marched on and—not taking any second chances with delivery dates or record stores that may or may not give a flip about Mr. Adams—I decided to pre-order the record right on PAX-AM’s site. I believe I’ve given it no less than a dozen spins since the morning it arrived on my doorstep like a little baby Moses Of Music.

Once again the art work beautifully matches the record’s hot, coming-out-of-the-clouds, Southern California vibe. Above is the outer jacket when unfolded. Below is what it looks like from the inside.

The interior sleeve keeps the tempo. Dig the dedication to Hazel Dedmond, his GMA (which, for the uninitiated, is short for grandma). 

And below are lyrics to what may be Adams’ best song ever written (no hyperbole there, just truth), the album’s opener, “Dirty Rain.”