I am fairly certain there are actually more than that, but I’ve been working far too much these days to keep up with my obsessive-compulsive attraction to pretty things that spin.
“My record collection pretty much thwomps you in the face and rummages through your apartment for cab fare home the next morning.
Regardless, I have moved across the country multiple times with my collection, going so far as to fill an entire car solely with vinyl as well as somehow convincing airport security to let me bring a massively oversized box of 100 records on a flight as carry-on. I’ve spent countless hours scouring both the internet and dozens of vinyl outlets across North America to add to my inexplicable collection. I’ve managed to find some of the rarest pieces ever, including test presses of which only 8 in the entire world exist.
My record collection pretty much rules. My record collection pretty much thwomps you in the face and rummages through your apartment for cab fare home the next morning.
So, with Record Store Day approaching this Saturday, April 21, you would think I’d be shitting unicorn-shaped bricks of pure exhilaration.
Sadly, record collecting has gotten to be something of a chore, a mild annoyance and an outlandish drain on the wallet.
Take another look at the photo above. I took it the other day at an undisclosed record store in Saskatoon (two guesses as to which one). The record in question is Fleetwood Mac’s excellent musical take on relationships gone sad to sour, the almighty “Rumors”.
A classic album for sure, of which there are likely umpteen copies floating around across the world.
Now check the price tag. $34.95.
Your average music consumer would know that only fools, poltroons and simpering ninnies would buy this album at this astronomical fee. The fact of the matter is that you can find this LP at any garage sale, thrift store or dad collection anywhere for a dollar or less.
Record collecting has sadly become some bloated cash cow. I certainly do not blame retail store owners either – no one gets rich opening a record store. Worse, with music now becoming a “paperless” commodity, it absolutely saddens me to see albums repressed and repackaged when there are already millions of copies floating around.
So with great reluctance, I extend a sheepish middle finger to Record Store Day. It has become a symbol for taking one of the true loves of my life and turning it into a painted up tartlet.
On the other hand, you can likely expect to see me standing in line at one of Saskatoon’s many fine record retailers on Saturday, watching Toronto’s Eamon McGrath do an instore at Vinyl Exchange with Slow Down Molasses’ Tyson McShane, grumbling into my Orange Julius drinkable, cursing all the money I don’t have.