No, I Have Not Yet Left the Shelf

It has been awhile since I last posted. But this site remains near and dear to my musical heart.

Some of the records in thrift stores have been sitting there for years, maybe even decades. And you know that no one is ever going to buy the moldy Shastakovich sitting in the back, on a bottom shelf in a dusty wooden bin. It will remain trapped forever, a poor soul doomed to be silent, unloved and unplayed.

In other news, my 101 Strings collection has stalled at around 230 out of 350 vinyl releases. I feel like I’ve cleaned out the Pacific Northwest. A lot left to acquire though, and they will be the rarer, more expensive items.

I’m still buying plenty of vinyl, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve moved on from thrifts to real record stores, and of course, discogs. Spending $30 instead of $3 on a record, though I still try to keep it cheap and look for bargains. I have the collector – nay, the completist curse, needing to own everything. Cool thing is I’m almost there.

Thrift Store Stink

My wife has a strong sense of smell.  Perfume or other odors make her ill.  So it is a sad side effect of bringing home numerous stacks of thrift store treasures, that she often complains of the stink.

It’s a bit of a problem. Often it is mold.  Records that have been sitting around uncared for, for who knows how many years.  Some, like my wife, find them rank.  “Ewww, what’s that smell??!” she yells.  Oh, I got some new records today, sorry.

I call them record farts.  It doesn’t seem to be the vinyl, but the cardboard that does it. Next time you see an oldie, open up the outer sleeve and take a whiff. Whew!  It’s weird. And kinda stinky.

At the Thrift Store – part 1

I’ve been going to thrifts regularly for a couple years now, and I have no good stories to tell.  Nothing at all involving ambulances, police or other oddities.  Nothing worthy of people of walmart.  Just general pleasantness, nice people, and they don’t even smell bad.

Well, wait – there is one story to tell!

An odd looking gothic fellow.  I first saw him riding a bike down the street, catching my eye by his odd clothing choices.  A black tutu, black fishnet stockings, upper half like a homeless Frank-n-Furter.

All of a sudden I see him everywhere, over and over again at various thrifts and record stores.  He runs in, quickly scans the fronts of the racks – flipfliflfip – looking for new stuff, finds nothing and skiddadles away on his bike like a man possessed!

He always has the same goth/alice cooper/drag look going, though I don’t think I’ve seen the dress/tutu as much.  It’s a smallish town, and one does not see guys like him often.  It’s a treat, like “cool, man” moment.

It’s odd to see him so many times, as what are the odds really, that we would go to the same places at the same exact times?  He’s only in a store for 1-2 minutes.  And I’ve seen him 5-6 times in just a couple months.  Most recent was the St Vinnies warehouse on W. Broadway.  He literally came out of nowhere on his bike, as I was entering the gravel driveway in my car.  He flies past me and gets off his bike before I can even park, which I quickly do so I can run after him and observe from afar.  He is fast, though.  And when I finally catch up and start browsing the racks a few feet away, watching him out of the corner of my eye wondering if I should say something… he’s outta there, no records purchased.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen him pull a record.

Next time I see him, I’ll strike up a conversation, find out what he collects.

Update 5/17/16 – Haven’t seen him since.