I Was A Physical Music Hoarder

I often joke that I invested in CDs all my life --- they just didn’t come from a bank. Mine came from music stores across America. If I took all the money I spent on music CDs and put that intobank CDs, it’s possible I could give Warren Buffet a run for his money. It’s a true statement, humor aside. I invested in the wrong type of CDs for too many years.

It started in junior high school when cassette tapes were all the rage and I happened to have a drawer under my bed that was perfect for holding them. That was also the same time I fell deeply in love with music, specifically hard rock music. It was also the time where I said goodbye to boyish things like baseball cards and embraced the teenage manhood love affair of music.

My parents hooked me on music early. I was rocking out to Bob Seger before I entered pre-school and I had a deep appreciation for Billy Joel, Fleetwood Mac, and the Righteous Brothers by the time I was seven. Music always had a special place in my house and the joy it brought was something that resonated with me eternally. Thus, when there was a chance to add that much joy to my life in the form of an actual music collection, I had to do it.

It was my father’s music collection that set me down the path of physically hoarding music. Prior to basking in his collection, I was happy to buy cassette tapes and maybe work my way up to 100. 100 music albums all in one place? That was a lot. More than I could ever imagine, actually. Who would need more than 100 albums to listen to?

Then I spent a Christmas break with my father in Florida. And I sawhis entire record collection for the first time. There were literally thousands of records all in pristine condition. A spectacular stereo system to play them on, and of course a brush and liquid solution for the needle before any record was played. I was in awe. I must have spent half a day just staring at his collection, going through it, and asking to play certain records. I was amazed. My father’s collection caused a pang of jealousy and I knew that I wanted to have a record collection that rivaled or even outdid his.

I slowly worked my way toward adding more cassettes to my pitiful collection in as many ways as I could. When there was money in my pocket, I would buy a record I really wanted. If a friend had an album that I wanted, I would ask to borrow it and make a copy. Blank tapes were only seventy-five cents, whereas actual albums were $7.00. There’s some easy math for ya! And yet, things still grew too slow. There had to be a way to grow my collection faster, even if I didn’t have money to spend.

And that’s when I discovered record clubs. I jumped all over that 12 for a penny deal and even added in the grand bonus of buying my first album for the low, low price of $3.99 and getting 3 more albums FREE! Whoo-hoo! What a deal! For years, I would relish record clubs as a great opportunity to add music to my collection in bulk. I belonged to all of them, and though I didn’t realize it at the time, they were costing me a small fortune. It didn’t matter though. Each package delivered to the house was a small treasure trove of greatness in the form of new music. Nothing was more exciting than that.

In the late 80s, compact discs came out and slowly but surely became the new rage. They were portable, virtually indestructible, and had much better sound quality than cassettes. I got my first CD player at 16 and it was one of the greatest gifts I ever received. Soon after, CDs for the collection would follow. These could also be purchased through record clubs and purchase I did. A lot! By the time I moved out of my home and into my first apartment I probably had around 300 cassette tapes and 100 CDs. A 400-album collection. Not too bad, but nowhere near the thousands that my dad had. I would have to keep working at it. And even with record clubs and CD sales at the mall, the collection wasn’t growing fast enough. There had to be a way to grow my collection faster, even if I didn’t have a lot of money to spend.

Being introduced to record shows was a magnificent experience for me. Here was a place that had an endless limit of compact discs and vinyl records for sale at great bargain rates. There were some discs that could be had at the low, low, price of 2, 3, or even 4 for a dollar. A quarter for a CD? Sign me up! And even the known bands that had popular new releases would only cost $5 – a bargain if I ever heard one. The record show was monthly and for many years I was a regular attendee. So many albums so little time.

The collection grew and grew and grew. I had a spreadsheet to track all my music, what format it was in (tape, CD, vinyl, etc.) and of course what year the record was released. Through years, I kept adding and adding to my collection. Building and building until it nearly overtook a room in my house. By that time, I had close to 2,000 CDs and I was on my way to overtaking my father’s collection with a massive one of my own.

Storage became an issue though. Where on Earth could you keep that many CDs? Large CD racks were purchased, and one section of my house looked like a never-ending CD sale. And when it came time to move from one place to another … let me just say that CDs are not light when bundled together into moving crates. And having to reset them every time I moved became an unwanted pain. I would have to re-alphabetize them once I set the racks up in the new home, and that could take days or even weeks. Sure, it would give me an excuse to listen to some of them, but ultimately it would be a painstaking chore. And not one that I looked forward to.

Then one day, MP3s came out. There was no longer a need to have a physical piece of music, you could get what you wanted digitally and store it with ease, because it did not take up any space. I resisted the digital movement for as long as anyone, but in the end, of course, it consumed me, and I was sucked up with the rest of the music junkies. I got my first IPod and worked on the chore of converting my physical CDs to a digital library.

The biggest issue with the digital movement was the loss of holding an album in your hands. I always loved the smell of a new cassette tape, or the triumph of getting the factory sealed plastic off a new CD, followed by that annoying sticker label that was put across the top. And being somewhat OCD, I had to make sure that all the sticky tape was removed. Otherwise I would sit there with that jewel case in my hands until it was.

Collecting music was an unhealthy obsession at times. Anytime I heard a new song that I liked even a little, I had to have the entire album. If I heard the song more than a couple of times and really get into it, I would usually find a way to run out and get the album immediately. Nobody Beats The Wiz had even given me a credit card with a $750 limit. I went CD shopping there at least twice a month. Classic albums, modern albums, and even new “super audio” CDs were all whisked into my collection. Disc after disc. Album after album. Artist after artist. I had to have them all.

Nowadays, the youth doesn’t know anything about growing a music collection. Between the digital age of streaming on demand and listening to whatever song they want to hear on YouTube or some other similar path, there aren’t many music collections like there used to be and there certainly aren’t as many collectors as there used to be. Some are still out there, but they are few and far between. I myself have gone digital. I subscribe to Amazon Music Unlimited and have recently thought about joining Spotify.

Occasionally, I will still buy a CD to add to the collection, but it must be one from a favorite band or a disc that I really want to listen to repeatedly. The only place I play CDs anymore is my car. I still have my stereo, my 5-disc changer, and my 300 Disc jukebox, but I never use them. It’s like we’ve gone backwards in time and regressed to a machine with headphones to play music back on. From the Walkman to the I-Phone in two generations. 

And while I still have most of my physical music collection, it is just collecting dust. I sold the vinyl. There’s been a resurgence with collector’s looking for vinyl and I was more than happy to sell mine and pocket the money. I’m eyeing up my cassette collection to sell next. There is a slow growing movement of people who want cassette tapes for some odd reason and I do still have over 400 cassette tapes – all in pristine condition. If I price them right and someone wants them, I have no problem selling those too. A large part of my life and one of the most important parts of my youth would be gone forever, but that’s all right. The collection has become nothing more than a status symbol. A, hey, I did it, moment that not many people care about anymore. A huge music collection used to be impressive, now it just means you spent too much money on something that is bulky and hard to move and most likely going to be thrown out once you’ve died. The kids can stream it, why would they want to move 2100 CDs?

I’ve yet to decide on what I will do with all my CDs. I changed the way I store them from multiple racks in a room, to several leather zipper cases that hold the CD and the booklet that came with it, but all the jewel cases have been recycled. Even if I were to try and sell the collection, I don’t think there would be many buyers for a CD collection without the original jewel cases. And thus, I am probably stuck with the massive number of CDs I’ve acquired over the years. So, yes, I was a physical music hoarder. And that’s okay, I suppose. It will serve as a constant reminder of a fond period of my life. Like looking at old pictures in a photograph album and remembering great times from days gone by.

Reflections On ... Wilson Phillips

Is there anything more memorable than your first true love? Okay, I’m sure there is, like your wedding day, the birth of a child, college graduation … the list could go on and on. But a first real, true love holds a special position in the memory banks of anyone, especially a romantic who looks upon yesterdays at certain times of his life with great joy for the nostalgia of it all.

My first true love was Tara and I met her during my senior year of high school, a particularly interesting time in my life. I am sure that senior year of high school is an interesting time in anyone’s life, but for me, it will always hold a special place in my collective psyche. Senior year was a time of change and uncertainty. I was certain that I was not going to college after high school, me and school were never the best of friends, and I was unsure what I was going to do after graduation. For most of my senior year the goal was just to finish and get out of there. It’s not that I hated high school, but I always felt that there was somewhere else I needed to be. This was a plague that would haunt me for several years of my early adult life.

I met Tara at the Roy Rogers restaurant we worked in. I had gotten a job at a location further away from my hometown Roy’s because I heard they needed experienced help and there was a chance to make a little more money per hour. I think I went from $4.25 to $4.85 an hour, which was a huge windfall at that time in my life. So, I put in for a transfer to that store where a couple of other friends had gone to work. The commute was a little longer, but I was young and had my own vehicle, so the drive was no big deal to me. I started at the end of the summer just before my senior year of high school would begin.

That same summer, Wilson Phillips roared onto the Billboard charts with their huge hit single, “Hold On.” The song was everywhere and became one that you couldn’t escape. It was on MTV. It was on every other radio station. And it was played all over the shopping malls. Needless to say, the song got stuck in my head and I had to own the album. Even though I was a metal head by preference, I did like other styles of music thanks to my parents. Pop, jazz, country, R&B, I was enamored by it all. If it was good music, it was okay by me. I never did like classifying songs into genres.

Wilson Phillips was a vocal group that consisted of Carnie Wilson, Wendy Wilson, and Chynna Phillips who were the daughters of Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys (Carnie and Wendy) and John and Michelle Phillips of the Mamas and the Papas (Chyna Phillips). With that much genetic talent there was no way this group wasn’t going to be anything but spectacular. And thus, on the strength of their huge hit single, I did purchase a copy of the album that summer. I played it a lot and really got into it during the summer, but I did not fall in love with the record until I fell in love with Tara. It was at that point that my romantic side took over and I listened to this album nonstop for the entire fall of 1990.

Working in a fast food restaurant as a teenager allowed a lot of time for goofing off and drama. And for trying to land dates with members of the opposite sex. Such was the way for Tara and I. There was an instant attraction the first time that we met and I’d like to believe that we both knew it. There was a spark in the air and some sort of magic that we were both overcome by. I don’t remember how our first date occurred; I’m not sure if I asked her to go the mall with me (a big thing back in the day), or if she invited me to hang out at her house, I just remember that as my final year of high school began, I found myself spending more and more time with Tara. And most of that time was spent either at work or at her house when we weren’t working.

I shared a level of comfort with Tara that I did not have with many people, especially with girls. Up until that point in my life, my relationships with females consisted of picking the wrong girl, trying to get dates with girls who already had boyfriends, or being flat out rejected for trying to land a girl that was way out of my league. I had tenacity, that’s for sure, but tenacity never got me a girl and it certainly didn’t get me a meaningful relationship. All of that changed in the fall of 1990 when it started getting serious.

I would spend all my non-working, non-school hours at Tara’s house. Her parents liked me a lot. Her brother liked me a lot. And her friends adored me. I was closest with her mom, and with her best friend, April. I can remember spending many an afternoon that fall drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and just bullshitting about life in general. Her mother was very accepting and approving of me which made me feel wonderful. There was a bond forming there that I hadn’t had with anyone in my entire life. Tara and I grew closer as the fall wore on and I entertained thoughts of us being a serious couple for many years to come.

When I wasn’t hanging at Tara’s, working, or sleeping, I was listening to Wilson Phillips. I had transferred the CD to tape and listened to it in my car all the time. On my way to school. On my way to work. And especially on my way to Tara’s house. “Hold On” was the first song to take hold on me, but I quickly discovered all the other gems that this album contained. Basically, every song was massive and amazing and I fell in love with all of them over time. “Hold On” gave way to “Release Me” which led me to “Impulsive” which was a song that spoke to me on many levels. Of course, it would! I was falling in love with a girl and this song told me all about what that was like. Lines like “Now you’re running away with my heart” and “I don’t want to analyze what I’m doing here” hit me over the head like a rubber mallet. I didn’t want to admit it to myself due to my past track record, but I was falling in love with this girl. I had never felt safer with anyone than I did with her in my arms. There was a sense of belonging, a feeling of security, and plenty of moments of bliss whenever I was around her. She had captured my heart. And even though I wanted to remain impulsive and resist the urge to fall in love (because, honestly, only bad things could happen), I couldn’t help myself. Tara had taken my heart and I was left to wonder what was going to happen now that she had it.

I think my strong feelings scared Tara because she often told me how she was worried about hurting me. She didn’t want to hurt me, but she had her own previous track record as well and it wasn’t a great one. She came with her own baggage and past heartache. And while I didn’t believe that would or should affect me, she felt that it would and that caused her to be extremely cautious with our relationship.

“Ooh You’re Gold” was another Wilson Phillips song that carried a lot of meaning for that fall. While Tara was worried she was going to hurt me, I felt that she was the most wonderful person in the entire universe. Sure, I probably had blinders on when it came to her, but I couldn’t help it. I was fascinated with her. Wilson Phillips said it best for me: “All I really need you to know, is ooh you’re gold.” She was gold to me. And platinum. And every other precious metal placed on Earth. She was amazing. She was everything that I ever wanted in a partner, everything that I wanted in life. I honestly believed that life couldn’t get any better than those late afternoons in her kitchen, slurping coffee, smoking cigarettes, ruminating on life, and waiting for her mom to come home from work. Those really were some of the best days of my life.

And my relationship with Tara affected all my other relationships. I still worked as much as I could, and I kept my grades up to the best of my abilities (I was a B/C student most of my academic career), but I stopped spending time with my other friends. I practically forgot about my guy buddies. And I barely ever saw my mother. She mentioned that to me on the rare occasions that I did see her, but what was I to do? I was twiterpated as the wise old owl told Bambi in the Disney movie. Tara had consumed my life and I was all too happy to drink it in and let it happen. That autumn was a magical one that I hoped would never end.

Sadly, like all things in life, it did come to an end. And as the brisk, bright days of the golden fall made way for the gloomy, gray days of December, our relationship took a turn for the worse. It wasn’t anything that I did. I still believe that to this day. It was just that Tara was scared to get so serious in such a short period of time. Every time I tried to discuss it with her, she changed or avoided the topic. She wasn’t having any of it and I was getting more confused by the day. What was happening to us?

Then the fateful night came. Tara wrote me a letter. A long, long letter. One that I still have somewhere in the depths of my collection of personal effects from years gone by. Tara sent me home with the letter and told me to read it when I got there. Which of course, I obliged. I don’t remember the exact contents and I did not pull it out for this reflection, but I remember the gist. It explained how she had hurt others in the past and how she had been hurt in the past. And then the inevitable was written in it. She told me that she didn’t want me to fall in love with her because she wasn’t in love with me and didn’t think she ever could be. Sure, she loved me, but she wasn’t in love with me. Ouch. That hurt. A lot. The sting of it was real, but the shock of it was worse. I thought everything was A-Okay and then I got hit upside the head with an aluminum baseball bat. Where did that come from?

After reading the contents of the letter I put on my Wilson Phillips CD and sat in my bed, stunned. I remember listening to “Release Me” several times in a row, letting the music wash over me and listening to the lyrics. It was time for a change, can you release me? The lines “Come on baby, you knew it was time to just let go, cause we want to be free” hit home hard. And hurt. I realized in listening to that song what Tara was saying in her letter. She wanted to be free. She didn’t want to be tied down. Most likely due to her own fears, but whether that was true or not, didn’t matter. It was over. How could I read a letter like that and expect that we were still going to be the same as we ever were? Things had changed between us forever and it just sucked.

Inevitably, our relationship ended. I just couldn’t go through with it anymore knowing that I wanted something so much different than she did. Of course, Tara told me that we could still be together, but we couldn’t be serious. I told her that I just didn’t work that way. I was cut from a different cloth that was clearly made in a separate factory from hers. We weren’t going to be able to work it out her way, so we just had to go our separate ways. Which was terrible, but needed to be done.

I spent that Christmas alone, which stung, and I reminisced about my fall over the entire winter break. Wondering if I could have done anything different. Wondering if I had stayed with her, if I could have eventually made her see things my way. Wondering if, given enough time, she would fall in love with me too. Who’s to say?

I also spent the entire winter break listening to Wilson Phillips from start to finish repeatedly (along with Neil Diamond and The Beatles Let It Be). By this time, all the songs spoke to me on some level and every song reminded me of her. Every song reminded me of what I had. Every song reminded me of what could have been. Why did she have to be so scared? “Next To You (Someday I’ll Be)” was the song I played the most, because it spoke of hope and change and the possibility that things could change and be different in the future. Perhaps there was a chance for us? Someday I’ll be … next to you. I was hoping and I was keeping the candle burning, because one day, someday, it was going to happen.

It didn’t. Tara and I kept in touch off and on for the next couple of years, but we never rekindled our relationship (which was probably for the best). When I moved to Florida to figure my life out after high school, we lost touch all together and I’ve not seen her since. And though I’ve tried, she’s can’t be found on social media (at least not through my searches) and google doesn’t reveal anything at all. I like to think she got married, changed her name, went on to have a wonderful family and is living the good life. I always wished for only the best for her.

I’ve often been tempted to drive by her old house and see if her parents are still there. It’s been 25 years since I last visited that house, so it’s highly unlikely, but part of me wants to do it just to say that I did. Not that I wish to rekindle something from so long ago now. I am a happily married man with a wonderful life of my own. But I always wonder what happened to her. How did her story turn out? And of course, any time I hear Wilson Phillips I think of Tara. I think of that magical autumn we spent together and I think of how perfect my life was at that moment. There have been similar moments in my life since then, but I don’t think any of them have been so perfect for so long. Part of that was because I was so youthful back then and had my whole future ahead of me. Part of that was because I was spending every free moment with a girl that I thought of as my best friend. The teenage heart is filled with much. Romanticism being a big part of that.

Occasionally, when the autumn chill settles in and I find myself alone for an hour or so with no pressing deadlines, I like to pull out my Wilson Phillips CD and let it play. I usually grab a cup of coffee (I don’t smoke anymore) and just wander down memory lane. The feeling is both nice and cutting all at once. And, of course, I wonder. What if? What could have been. What would have become. I guess I’ll never know and that’s okay. My life turned out pretty good in the end to say the least.

2018 Resolutions: New Music To Enjoy

2018 is underway and so are my resolutions. As mentioned in my previous post, I have decided that my 2018 resolutions should involve music. Why resolve to workout harder (or more often), or to eat better? That’s going to evolve over the year like it does every year. Sometimes I am going to work out like a beast and other times…not so much. So, I figured it would be better to make resolutions toward something I truly and deeply care about, want to follow through with, and that will improve my quality of life. Music is one of those rare gems that does all of that.

Toward the end of last year, I got into a bit of a listening rut. I kept listening to the same bands repeatedly. And while there’s nothing wrong with that, it was the same go to bands that I always listen to when I am not sure where else to go musically. This year I hope to change all of that. I would like to find myself seeking out new music and new bands more often. It’s hard to find a diamond in the rough but when it is found, there is a moment of euphoria that makes it all worth it. I felt that way when I first got into The Gaslight Anthem. I felt that way when I first got into Pop Evil. More recently I felt that way when getting into The Strumbellas and The Revivalists. It’s like a drug and I am an addict seeking that next high. The joy that washes over me when I realize how great a particular new band is and I want to hear more and more of their music is a feeling that nothing can compare to.

This year I want to have that feeling more often. To that regard, I plan to seek out new music more often through several means. Some of them are easy. Checking out a station on Amazon music leads me to some great new (to me) artists. So instead of listening to Iron Maiden’s Number Of The Beast for the 85^th time in a row, I will tune in to one of these stations.

I also get a lot of music sent to me for reviewing on the blog. That’s another easy way for me to listen to some new music. I will start to regularly listen to everything that is sent to my email account and find the gems. That bit of work is already paying some rewards, some of which you will see in future posts.

Word of mouth will work too. There are a lot of people in my music community that I trust when it comes to new music. Most of them I follow on Twitter ( @ryovie ), some I am friends with. They always know how to point me in the proper direction, and this year, I will actually ask for help too. I will reach out to these lifelines and say “Hey! What’s good and new to listen to these days?” That’s how I could get into Nathaniel Rateliff and the Nightsweats.

The best way to obtain this goal is to venture outside my comfort zone. Instead of constantly playing the trusted classics, I need to mix in some new music that I haven’t heard. Take a chance on a few things. I know I’m not going to like everything I hear, but that’s what makes it so much fun. The journey. And when I finally discover that gem, it makes the journey worthwhile and then some! And of course, anything that I discover that I think is astounding, I will be sure to share here at The Rock And Roll Guru. I wouldn’t want to keep it all to myself. Music is something that is best when it is shared with others and in 2018 I hope to the be the Santa Claus of the music world.