Many men bloggers I regularly read -- like him, and him, and, yes, even him -- often go on about what tunes they're listening to, what concerts they're attending, what they're i-loading into their podgadgets.
Consider this a record spin zone too. (I know that some of you youngsters have no idea what that means, nor have you any understanding of "dial" as in telephone or TV, but I note that my friends' kids are growing their hair and listening to classic rock and I have seen The Beatles, Cream and Jimi Hendrix live, so have some respect.)
Let me say that I am very proud of my music collection, which would have been even greater had my niece's old boyfriend not helped himself to most of the vinyl in my basement -- see? -- when she moved in last year. I have the kind of collection that men love to go through and go, WOW! You have this! And this? Can I borrow this? (NO! DAMMIT! I'LL BURN IT FOR YOU!)
I make compilations for my girlfriends to drive to, to dance to, to work out to -- but mostly so they have something to play other than the same old soft rock and Alison Krauss when I visit.
This weekend, I intend to hunt down the latest from Ottawa's Lynn Miles, whose Juno-winning third album Unravel is at the front of the seven foot-tall, four foot-wide French art deco armoire loaded with CDs and my 31-year old Pioneer amp and turntable. I am also going to find the newest release from Winnipeg's The Duhks whose track "Death Came a Knockin'" makes the hair at the back of my neck stand on end.
Now some of you may wonder why I don't just download these things instead of wandering around record stores?
First because, I always frequent small indie shops, such as Wild East on the Danforth in my Toronto neighbourhood of Riverdale, because I learn much from the owners and staff.
Second because, just like what happens when reading actual ink-and-paper newspapers, you come in looking for one thing, but you always trip over something else wonderful that you never expected to find, let alone enjoy.
When the day comes that we'll all have our personal, custom-keyworded, RSSed, or whatevered Daily Me Me Me delivered to our e-doorsteps, our worlds will have narrowed into super specialized knowledge niches that will leave us intellectually and experientially poorer for it. What will happen to small talk?
Maybe we'll all have plugs in our ears anyway.
And on that note ... the music.
Have a groovy almost summer weekend.
UPPITY DATE: This is one cool tool.
LATER THE SAME DATE: Couldn't find Myles or the Duhks. Figures. They're Canadian.
But the day wasn't a waste.
Bought Aimee Mann's newest, The Forgotten Arm.
And John at Wild East turned me on to Nathan's Jimson Weed -- Canadian! -- and laid The Blind Boys of Alabama's rocking latest, Atom Bomb, on me. There's a cover of Norman Greenbaum's "Spirit in the Sky" that I like better even than the original.
And no, I am not stuck in the psychedelic age.
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