Live Oak Blues What happens.

About six months ago, a friend mentioned a book to me that it turns out I had bought some years ago and forgotten–one of the many annotated lists of must-hear records. While the book is heavily skewed toward British music, it knocked loose a revelation in me: I suffered from musical ADD and had been for some time, and it was music’s very availability that had fertilized this tendency.  At some point, I had stopped listening to albums and devolved into listening to songs and playlists exclusively, cherry picking tunes that already aligned to my calcifying tastes. Back in my teens, when I used to spend all my paper route money on records, I would memorize every part of an album, liner notes and all. Spotify, Pandora, mp3s, and increased disposible income had killed off this part of me.

So I decided to make my own list, and installed a few rules for self discipline: 1. I must listen to a record in its entirety, and could not skip songs, no matter how wretched; 2. I had to rate each record from 1 to 5; and, 3. I had to write a few notes about my experience with the record. The result is a pretty comprehensive spreadsheet (numbering some 800 records and growing) and a revitalized obsession with the vinyl album as an art form. Some days I will listen to 8 records a day, sometimes none, and I am now on a first-name basis with my town’s record store owners.  Among the many surprises: 1960s Bakersfield Country, the also-rans of the classic Psych period, the many branches of the Byrds family tree, and Curtis Mayfield’s late-60s/early-70s work with The Impressions.

I also discovered something I call The Drive-By Truckers Syndrome, which is making a record simply because it is time to make a record. In these cases, the artist seemingly appears in the studio with a clutch of songs to record regardless of whether or not the material itself actually constitutes an album. For instance, we consider London Calling, Odessey & Oracle (sic), and Astral Weeks albums, not just song collections.  In many cases, records suffering from DBTS are fine and inoffensive, but often indistinguishable from any other record in the artist’s oeuvre. The various configurations of Crosby, Stills, Nash, and Young made DBTS a cottage industry in the 70s, and even the great Van Morrison has endured periods when he had more songs than inspiration.

Here is a sampling of some of the records I rated as “5 stars”—each one a revelation:

• Willie Nelson, “Phases and Stages” (1974)
• Os Mutantes, “Os Mutantes” (1968)
• Alexander “Skip” Spence, “Oar” (1969)
• Gene Clark, “White Light” (1971)
• Buck Owens And His Buckaroos, “I’ve Got A Tiger By The Tail” (1965)
• Raphael Saadiq, “Stone Rollin'” (2011)
• The Kentucky Colonels, “The Long Journey Home” (1964)
• Mickey Newbury, “‘Frisco Mabel Joy” (1971)
• Air, “Moon Safari” (1998)