DISPOSABLE POP MUSIC has been with us for a long time. In fact, long enough that Tin Pan Alley and Brill Building seem almost legendary. The attitude that the music you listen to somehow defines who you are is recent. It originated with teenage boys who took their record collections dead serious in the ’60s.
Teenage boys who didn’t get jackets with varsity sports letters in high school and who didn’t even get close to getting laid in high school but who had the biggest and best record collection!
Teenage boys who devoured Crawdaddy and Rolling Stone and who bought all the “right” albums by such no-longer popular groups such as the Beach Boys and the Kinks and such never-were-popular artists such as Van Dyke Parks and Neil Young.
Teenage boys who actually had informed opinions on the music they liked.
And still didn’t get laid in high school.
Like me . . .
The “article” above is actually just an idea that I had for an article. I jotted down these few lines and then filed them away in the Draft section of my WordPress editor and figured that I’d get around to finishing it in a few weeks. That was more than six years ago. Now I’ll be dingdanged if I can remember where I was going with it!
The image at the top of the page was cropped from the front cover of the SCHLAGERS album (Warner Brothers PRO-359). This was a compilation of supposedly easy-listening music from such diverse artists as Ella Fitzgerald and Frank Sinatra through Doug Kershaw and Randy Newman to the Association and the Watts 103rd Street Rhythm Band. (What—no Kinks?) (Or Beach Boys?)
SCHLAGERS was sold through the mail for a whopping $2 via ads in publications such as Rolling Stone magazine. For more on SCHLAGERS, check out its listing on Discogs.
Mystically liberal Virgo enjoys long walks alone in the city at night in the rain with an umbrella and a flask of 10-year-old Laphroaig who strives to live by the maxim, “It ain’t what you know that gets you into trouble; it’s what you know that just ain’t so.
I’ve been a puppet, a pauper, a pirate, a poet, a pawn, and a college dropout (twice!). Occupationally, I have been a bartender, jewelry engraver, bouncer, landscape artist, and FEMA crew chief following the Great Flood of ’72 (and that was a job that I should never, ever have left).
I am also the final author of the original O’Sullivan Woodside price guides for record collectors and the original author of the Goldmine price guides for record collectors. As such, I was often referred to as the Price Guide Guru, and—as everyone should know—it behooves one to heed the words of a guru. (Unless, of course, you’re the Beatles.)