New stylus acquired and installed.
I asked the guy, can you look me up
in your system, and tell me when
I bought this turntable? Sure, he said,
and he looked me up. He said,
2017.
We had a laugh, then, didn’t we?
I hadn’t changed my stylus
in almost nine years, and I
listen to a lot of records.
I was embarrassed, but happy,
because this morning’s attempt
to play Beck’s Morning Phase
was infuriating and painful.
The distortion in Beck’s crooning
was like long fingernails
dragging down a chalkboard.
I had to act and act fast,
so I drove across town to
Fred’s Sound of Music
and it felt like one of those
occasions where, maybe,
you see a doctor for some
ailment or another and you
are automatically cured.
Does that happen? If it does,
this was like that.
I was smiling all the way
home and when I got the table
hooked back into the stereo
I put Morning Phase back on
and started again. Beck, for me,
has the distinction of being
the coolest nerd on the planet.
And one of the most unpredictable
artists of the last thirty years.
Here’s a lo-fi punk record. Here’s
some hip-hop art noise. Here’s a
disco funk record. Here’s an
album of ballads, nothing
above 65 beats per minute.
And here’s kind of a traditional
pop rock album. I have most of
his catalog on CD, but the
three titles I have only on vinyl,
roll out like butter,
not unlike his diplomatic
response to Kanye West
interrupting his Grammy
acceptance.
Morning Phase wants me
crying into my pillow,
Colors wants me dancing
my ass all the way off,
and Hyperspace sends
me into psychedelic
synthesizer dreamland.
I am sometimes surprised
how much I love a record
that’s been sitting in
the stacks for years.
Why didn’t I spin this
more often? It is the lament
of the record collector,
that as new great records find
their way into the house,
some other great records,
before their time, go into
a kind of hybernation,
only to be rediscovered
many years later, when
some listener decides to
go through everything again
in alphabetical order.
Each spin, a reunion
with an old best friend.
Notes on the vinyl editions: Morning Phase, Capital Records, 2014, heavyweight black vinyl. With the new stylus, the audio is beautiful and clear, but there are still pops in the playback and one skip–I think it’s fair to say that this is not a good pressing. Colors, Capital Records, 1917, yellow translucent vinyl. Sounds terrific. Hyperspace, Capital Records, 2019, black vinyl.
In case you’re just joining me: I am listening to (almost) every record in my collection in alphabetical order and writing a poem-like-thing in response.
michael jarmer 