Miles Of Aisles Of Melissa Manchester

During the nine months or so that Paloma and I’ve been buying vinyl, I’ve noticed certain things. There will always be some album which I’ve never seen and am thrilled to have found.

The next store I visit, I come across another copy of the new-found treasure (like the Korgis’ Dumb Waiters).

Then, there are the certain artists who I feel pressured to buy. There are so many of their albums in the bins of used record stores, I wonder if anyone held on to a copy (or maybe the previous owner upgraded to CD).

Melissa Manchester is one whom I’ve noticed. I could walk into any of the half dozen or so places where we shop for used vinyl and probably find a copy of damned near every album in her catalog, none costing more than a dollar.

It’s been tempting to make the investment.

I don’t really know a lot of her songs, but the ones I do know are pleasant enough. Of course, the only songs of hers that immediately come to mind are Midnight Blue and You Should Hear How She Talks About You.

(I’ve always thought that Carly Simon would have given the former some cojones)

And speaking of Carly Simon, she too is an act that, like Ms. Manchester, seems to be well represented in used record stores and most of the music she has released could be acquired for less than a pizza from Domino’s.

In Carly’s case, I have a copy of her box set from a decade or so ago – a freebie from her label – which I’ve never explored much beyond the radio hits.

Deep Purple, Boz Scaggs, Kenny Loggins…they’re all there, too.

Most of these artists aren’t ones in which I’ve ever had much interest, at least beyond owning a stray track or two.

Yet I live in fear of them, knowing that one day I may return home from a vinyl-buying venture and, having been unable to resist the inexpensive siren song of some siren’s songs, find myself explaining to Paloma why we now own a dozen albums by Helen Reddy.

Here are a few tracks that I do own by some of the acts I’ve noticed with extensive catalogs readily available in used record stores…

Chuck Mangione – Give It All You Got
It is impossible for me to think of Chuck Mangione and not imagine Mick Jagger cranking the music of the flugelhorn player on trans-Atlantic flights with supermodels on a private jet in the late ‘70s.

His music makes me think of shag carpet and the 1980 Winter Olympics for which this song served as the theme (and after two weeks of hearing it on the television broadcasts, I was hearing it in my sleep).

Steve Miller Band – Swingtown
Actually, Steve Miller has already made his way into our vinyl collection (I think we’ve got the greatest hits record and possibly Book Of Dreams).

Even before I was really into music, I knew a lot of Steve Miller songs from his hits in the mid- to late- ‘70s. Fly Like An Eagle, Jet Airliner, and Take The Money And Run were always playing over the public pool’s sound system.

Personally, I much preferred Swingtown which was a staple on the jukebox in the bowling alley where my friends and I killed time before we could drive (and sometimes after).

Gino Vannelli – Wild Horses
I’m well acquainted with Gino’s big hits, I Just Wanna Stop and Living Inside Myself, as they were played often on the local light rock station. My mom was fond of the station and I was indifferent at the time. Once I became interested in music, I wrested control of the car stereo from her in a bloodless coup.

But Wild Horses I quite liked when I heard it on that same light rock station while home from college one spring. Several years later, I’d learn more about Gino than I’d ever imagined I would. Our record store’s receiving clerk (who greatly resembled Mario from the Donkey Kong video game) was a devoted fan of the bare-chested Canadian.

Atlanta Rhythm Section – So Into You
Southern rock has never been a genre of which I’ve been very fond (although I’ve become less resistant the older I’ve gotten). The handful of radio hits I know by Atlanta Rhythm Section are hardly what I’d describe as Southern rock (perhaps the non-hit stuff was more in that vein).

But those hit songs – Alien, Imaginary Lover, Spooky, a couple more – are all wistful and engaging. They sound like a cloudy, autumn day.

Reconsidering Bob (But I’m Still Not Buying A #@&%! Ford Truck)

I’ve never really been one of those music fans who take offense to artists who license their songs for use in commercials. I wouldn’t consider myself such a purist, believing Melt With You helping to entice me to want a burger devalues the song.

I’ve also been blessed with a superhuman ability to, for the most part, tune out commercials (working in record stores during one’s formative years will nurture skills in selective listening).

And, recently, I’ve been strangely, unexpectedly compelled to snag half a dozen albums by Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band. They were in excellent condition and none was more than a dollar – not even the double, live album Nine Tonight.

Purchasing them was surprising (or maybe not) as I’ve never owned anything by Seger in my life on any format despite growing up in the Midwest where he was staple. I knew his hits and even some album tracks from radio and the bowling alley jukebox.

(you know, I wonder if in some parallel universe I was a better bowler and ended up The Dude)

So, I was familiar with a chunk of Seger’s work. My best friend in junior high played his older brother’s eight tracks of the stuff relentlessly. There were songs of Seger’s which I thought were good, but I kind of shelved him with Johnny Hoosier as likable and workman-like but not having the spiritual, transcendent kick of Springsteen.

As I’ve listened to my trove of Seger the past few weeks, I’ve been surprised to realize how much of it I do like. I’m still not elevating him to Springsteen status, but he does now occupy a zone for me as slightly more than erstwhile heartland rocker. And I was puzzled as to why I’d been rather ambivalent toward him (familiarity breeding…disinterest?).

Then, I remembered that damned truck commercial with Like A Rock playing and the incalculable number of times I must have been subjected to it, particularly during football season. And I had to wonder if, somehow, subconsciously, the use of that song had caused me to dismiss Seger’s entire catalog.

I still have no issue with an artist making some coin through licensing their songs but maybe such a move is a bit more insidious that I’ve believed.

So, here’s some Bob Seger. I imagine that some longtime fans might howl that I’m bypassing, for now, his ‘70s albums, but I’m working my way back and I’m more familiar with his early ‘80s output.

Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band – Understanding
Understanding was never on a Seger studio album (though I’m sure it’s ended up on a compilation). Instead, the song appeared on the soundtrack for the movie Teachers. My friends and I caught the flick while skipping school one day.

Ironically, the movie was about the poor state of the American educational system. Of course, the fictional school in Teachers did hire Nick Nolte as a teacher and enroll Ralph Macchio and Crispin Glover as students, so what did they expect?

Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band – Roll Me Away
The lure of the open road is a recurring theme in much of Seger’s music and Roll Me Away is a wonderful example.

Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band – No Man’s Land
Wistful and resigned, there are not a lot of happy endings in Bob Seger songs. Rather, there are a lot of people who seem to have made peace with their lot in life no matter how bruised, battered, or maligned they might be, and No Man’s Land would be one of my more favorite album tracks of Seger’s.

Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band – Her Strut
Not everything is somber in the world of Bob Seger. If he’s not reflecting on the past with a bit of regret, he’s locked into the present with songs that possess barroom swagger as on Her Strut. Like No Man’s Land, Her Strut was on 1980’s Against The Wind and I must have heard every track from that album on the radio growing up.

It’s Just Like Thunderdome

So, Paloma and I have recently returned from the land of sun and shuffleboard and I’m here to tell you that southern Florida is indeed much like Del Boca Vista. Actually, the tales which were recounted to us – many revolving around condo board association hijinks, power struggles, and turf wars – lead me to believe these condominium enclaves to be some kind of geriatrically-tinged take on Lord Of The Flies.

Discounting the apparently constant threat of carnage, it was a relaxing trip and our intrepid and gracious hosts (Paloma’s mother and her husband) were kind enough to indulge us some time trolling through records in two stores that we’d highly recommend.

The first was called Bananas, pretty much a warehouse tucked away near an interstate. There was barely enough room to move between aisles of metal shelving that went to almost the ceiling. It made me feel like I was in one of the upper floors of the main library in college.

Personally, the major score was picking up Patti Smith’s entire pre-early retirement catalog – Horses, Radio Ethiopia, Easter, and Wave in excellent condition for less than the airport jacked us for four days of parking. Paloma was thrilled with a new copy of Coltrane’s A Love Supreme.

I confess that I’ve not heard the Coltrane album. There’s various reasons – for one, I’ve never really listened to much jazz – but I also wonder if I’ve subconsciously avoided it as I’ve heard so much about it…has hype set the bar at an unattainable level?

That meandering aside, the other stop was a much smaller, street side store called Daddy Kool. The name made me think of a bookie with whom a good dozen of us used to place bets at the record store where Paloma and I first met – the mysterious Stick Daddy (I had never met him as most of us placed the bets through one a couple friends).

Anyhow, Daddy Kool’s selection of vinyl was brilliantly schizophrenic. The unexpected titles to volume ratio was quite high. For a mere dollar each, I snagged the debut albums by Blue Oyster Cult and Zebra, and a copy of Bob Seger’s The Distance.

I need to sort out this Seger thing as, only days early, I had bought several other records by him for less than a dollar each – I’ve never really considered myself to be more than an occasional fan of his stuff.

There were also titles I’d never seen before – Danielle Dax, the soundtrack to The Mission, and Diesel. I’d file it under one of the more memorable shopping sprees Paloma and I have had in the brief time we’ve been collecting vinyl.

Royal Tannenbaum would have found it to be most satisfactory.

Diesel – Sausalito Summernight
I hear this song and I immediately think bowling alley which is where I heard this song from the jukebox all through the autumn of 1981. I haven’t listened to the full album, yet, and I’m almost hesitant. I mean, what’s the point? Could they possibly have another song on there even remotely as catchy as this one?

The song titles – stuff like Alibi, Ready For Love, Bite Back - inspire little hope, sounding generic at best and simply dumb at worst. But, Sausalito Summernight is instantly memorable and inspiring (especially when you’re hearing it repeatedly hanging at the bowling alley in the Midwest during the winter as a bored teenager in the early ’80s). The song sounded like Southern California to us (we were duped, Diesel was Dutch).

Moving Pictures – What About Me
The only time I heard this song in the winter of ’82/83 was on American Top 40. It didn’t get very much (if any) airplay on the radio in our area, but on the rare occasion when I would hear it, it stood out. I thought I read somewhere that one of the non-American Idol idols (Australian Idol? Bolivian Idol? Easter Island Idol?) had a big hit with his cover of What About Me.

Anyhow, it’s quite the dramatic production this one, a veritable anthem for all the little people that make the big people big. Like Diesel, I haven’t heard the rest of Moving Pictures’ album. Like Diesel, I’m not expecting much.

Prefab Sprout – The King Of Rock And Roll
Of all of the Sprouts’ songs (and Paloma and I have most of their music), this one reminds me of Paloma most of all. I remember her playing their videos at the record store where we both worked and I can still vividly picture her singing along to The King Of Rock And Roll. It’s truly criminal that they never found an audience here in the States.

Ennio Morricone – On Earth As It Is In Heaven
I spent more than I usually do when I saw a copy of Morricone’s soundtrack to the movie The Mission, but it’s worth it. It’s Ennio Morricone, for God’s sake. No matter what the movie, Morricone doing the music makes it worth the price of admission.

It’s been years since I’ve seen the movie (maybe since college), but it’s a pretty powerful flick. It is a bit of a slog at moments and it’s a bit heavy (the role of organized religion in “civilizing” natives of the rain forest doesn’t really lend itself to light and carefree), but it’s worth checking out for the scenery (and music) alone.