Organizing, Records and Discogs

When the pandemic started last March, much of the nation went into house-organizing mode, as people gathered never-worn clothes from bedroom closets and outgrown toys from playrooms, making room for other purchases that will one day need to be discarded.  The pandemic may have facilitated this organizing trend by forcing people to spend countless hours inside their homes, but I think a lot of it came down to control: giving us some semblance of power in a world that increasingly seemed to be careening towards a path of its own demise.  I think that’s what most organizing constitutes: a chance to regain control in an otherwise uncontrollable world.

While others were discarding, I was adding.  Just as the state of Illinois was shutting down last spring, I made regular trips to Home Depot to build three record racks for my growing collection of vinyl, and while the racks achieved their purpose of properly displaying my albums in all their glory, I soon wanted even more control.  I wanted them cataloged.

Enter Discogs.

Websites aimed to catalog aspects of our lives are nothing new.  Letterboxd tracks the movies we’ve seen (or haven’t seen yet), Goodreads does the same for books, Untappd for the beers you’ve sampled.  As someone who has made lists all his life, who when asked what my favorite movies are can immediately rattle off ten titles, I find these websites to be a Godsend, a way to transform scraps of paper or poorly organized spreadsheet files into fun, interactive activities that facilitate sharing content with others who relate to my obsessions.

There are plenty of options for music collector, but Discogs appears to be the site of choice for the folks I know.  It has its quirks and limitations, but after spending a week or so entering data, I’ve managed to inventory all of my records, CDs and concert DVDs nicely in the cloud and I’ve organized them even better on a spreadsheet that I can manipulate however I choose.

A few details.  If you’re a vinyl collector for whom its important to properly identify the specific pressing of each record you own – and there are reasons why this might be important – the endeavor of cataloging your collection is going to cost you loads of time.  For me, I was happy just to note that I owned a particular album and not that it was a particular reissue of a particular year.  This posed a problem, however, because Discogs attempts to estimate the monetary value of your collection – a nice feature – and to have this estimate somewhat accurate, it’s important for me to at least note that my 1974 Genesis release isn’t a first pressing, but a reissue.  And, truth be told, this is a pain to do on Discogs for several reasons:

1)     When searching for a basic record – say, Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours – 538 versions of the album pop up, and even after filtering for country (U.S.) and format (vinyl) you’re left with over 90 options to choose from.  Which one do you choose without wanting to spend a great deal of time?  If you’re like me, knowing that I didn’t have a highly-valued first pressing – I chose the first reissue I could find.  But this leads to another problem…

2)     I want to be able to track my records based on the year they were released.  My mental timeline is part of what helps me navigate my world, and knowing that The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway came out in 1974 is one of those facts that anchors my historical timeline.  Unfortunately, if I want to properly recognize that I don’t own a valuable first pressing but rather an inexpensive reissue, it’s the year of the pressing that pops up when I chronologically order my collection, NOT the year the album was released.  I hate this.  Others hate it too, as a quick Google search confirmed, but while there are many likeminded people out there, there’s apparently only one solution to the problem:  download your collection, load it onto a spreadsheet, and physically change the dates to their original year of release.  That’s what I did.  Not ideal.

3)     Unless I’m missing something, I can’t set filtering defaults like searching only for vinyl releases in the U.S.  I have to tell Discogs to search only for “vinyl” and for “U.S. releases” every time search for a new record.  EVERY fricking time!  If I’m missing something, shame on me.  But this made entering data much more laborious.  And using the website is no better than the android app, as it takes a long time to even load the filtering page.  To date, there isn’t a Discogs app for PCs.  You have to go to the website if you want to make changes via your computer.  (I tried using “Disko for Discogs” which is supposed to be a way to use Discogs via an app, but this failed to even link up to my account).

These issues aside, Discogs is still a useful way to inventory of your collection, and if you own more recent CDs and albums, it’s easier still, as you can simply scan the barcode rather than typing in information (I entered my entire CD collection in less than a day).  Now that I’ve got everything entered and up to date, going forward when I purchase a new record, I’ll enter it separately onto Discogs and then onto the spreadsheet I’ve made to my preferred specifications.  Luckily for me, I only purchase 30 or 40 records a year, so this isn’t such a big deal.  If you’re a big collector with a lot of changes in inventory, this could be a major headache.   In addition to editing “year released” on my spreadsheet, I also manually edited the format of my items into basic categories (LPs, CDs and DVDs) and added a genre column (rock/pop, jazz, classical, spoken, humor).  This way I can sort my collection in any way I choose. (A question might be raised as to why I would feel compelled to sort my collection in multiple ways.  Again, it’s all about the illusion of control.)  The spreadsheet also serves as a way to enter albums that Disccogs can’t find – limited releases or self-released CDs that friends of mine have given to me over the years, for example. 

With everything entered, I’ve got upwards of 900 vinyl records and 500 CDs.  That’s a lot for sure, but each item is neatly arranged in the racks I built last spring, and as a result my mild obsession doesn’t seem like such a crazy endeavor.  When my records were stacked in boxes sprawled out on the basement floor, then I wondered if my collecting was getting out of hand.  Now if I ever feel this way, I need only look to a collecting friend of mine who’s amassed more than 5000 records.  Compared to him, my hobby seems downright sane.

Music Geek-Out Moments

Goodness gracious, it’s been a heck of a long time since my last entry.  The longest in fact since I started this nonsense over a decade ago.  I keep mentally writing the beginnings of blogs, but for reasons that probably have something to do with the exhaustion of living through a pandemic and an election simultaneously, I haven’t been able to pull the trigger.  That ends today.  I’ve got a bunch of things to write about, but since it’s been a while I’ve decided to ease back in with a bit of music-nerd nostalgia.

If you’re really into music you can probably identify a few times in your life when you connected with a fellow music lover on a visceral or intellectual level.  You met someone who “gets you” or “gets it.”  In my museum of recollection, I could probably find dozens of worthy events to exhibit, but allow me to share just two with you today.  They’re nothing earth-shattering, but they’ve stayed with me all these years and I get a kick out of them.

Alpine Valley Music Center parking lot (i.e., a big grass field), East Troy, Wisconsin, probably in 1989 or thereabouts. 

I walked with my friends from the field packed with cars where people had spent the previous hour tailgating to the gate entrance to see Elvis Costello or Rush or Billy Joel.  (Or maybe Jimmy Buffet?  I didn’t have many Alpine Valley concerts left in me – my last time there was in 1991.)  For some reason I was explaining to my friend that although I was excited to see whomever we were there to see, that I would love, just LOVE, to see Yes on stage and have them announce, “Ladies and gentlemen, ’The Gates of Delirium.’”  Well, you would  have thought I’d just announced that Jon Anderson himself was walking behind me, because some nutjob (as in, fellow music-nerd nutjob) in cutoff jeans and a t-shirt turned toward me and shouted “Oh my God!  Yes!”  He ran toward me and literally – I’m not making this up – knelt down in front of me and prostrated himself in mock adulation.  “I bow to the altar of Yes.”  When he righted himself, his right knee was badly bloodied – he’d knelt down on broken glass!  A little remnant from someone’s tailgating a little too hard with glass bottles.  The bloodied fan looked down to examine his knee and said, “Ah well, Yes is worth it.”  We spent the next five minutes or so avoiding going to our seats and instead exchanging our thoughts on Yes, who at the time were either on hiatus or completely defunct.  I shared my opinion of the non-Jon Anderson album Drama, and we both agreed that it was good but that it shouldn’t have been called Yes.  (I’ve since changed my mind about that.  I believe that not only is it Yes, but it’s among the band’s best six albums).  We wished each other a good evening, but I’m sure we also wished that we were seeing a different band, like being stuck on a date when the woman you really want is on the dance floor with another guy. 

Fortunately, I got to see Yes five more times after this interaction, and they played “Gates of Delirium” at two of those concerts.  They even brought out “Machine Messiah” and “Tempus Fugit” from Drama on one of those tours.  I imagine that my bloody-kneed Yes friend was at some of these shows front and center.

A gas station in western Wisconsin off of Highway 94, en route from Milwaukee to Minneapolis, probably in 1992 or 1993. 

Minnesota may border Wisconsin, but going back and forth between Milwaukee, where my family lived, and the University of Minnesota, where I was in grad school, was getting mighty old.   I found that I’d regularly have to pull over at a rest stop north of Wisconsin Dells and take a 20-minute snooze just to stay awake.  It didn’t help that I couldn’t make it all the way on one tank of gas in my Toyota Tercel, so more time was wasted having to fill up along the journey.  On one such stop, I filled up my tank and walked in to pay the cashier (automated pumps weren’t a thing yet, or at least not at this station), a young guy with dark, long curly hair and a black t-shirt.  While I was waiting for the transaction to be completed, I noticed a song playing on the radio playing next to him, and the music bounced around in my brain for a bit, jump-starting old synapses in need of a good lube job.  I titled my head, nonplussed, certain that I was about to make a fool of myself, but I tentatively proceeded.  “That isn’t…is that Michael Schenker?”  The cashier froze, looked at me in eye with no emotion whatsoever, and then in one fluid motion, opened the till, took out a bill and slapped it down on the counter in front of me, as if he were jubilantly showing his winning straight-flush over an opponent’s full house.  “That, my friend, deserves a dollar!”

I’d gotten it right.  I wasn’t a fan of Michael Schenker.  I wasn’t even aware of him, really, but I remembered a song that had gotten a bit of radio play on WQFM back in 1981, and since my older brother had purchased it (the vinyl record is now in my possession), the album cover and name were somehow stamped on my brain.  Why I was able to remember this, and not, say, the name of a woman seconds after introducing herself to me, was a question better left to that great DJ up in the sky.

But damn, I was proud of that one.

So there you are.  Two geek-out moments.  I hope there are many, many more, but of course these types of interactions that make life richer aren’t possible in 2020.  Here’s hoping in 2021.  In the meantime, I’m going to get cracking at writing another blog entry.  Stay well out there!

Music Inspires During the Pandemic

I’ve never had more time to write, but pandemics and social distancing apparently don’t kindle creativity.  Lately my mind works best with logical, choreographed activities like woodworking, crossword puzzles and home improvement projects.  Not exactly awe-inspiring stuff.

But one idea sprung up on social media in time for my family’s roundtrip drive to Lexington, Kentucky and back: the 30 Day Song Challenge.  It’s a simple exercise to get you to think of music that’s inspired you in various ways over the years, to get you to mine some of the songs that maybe you’ve forgotten about, and to share your choices with others.

(by the way, our drive was to move our daughter home from her apartment, so no judging)

My daughter suggested that the four driving companions pick a song from each category, and rather than play one song a day, we’d plow through as many as we could during the six hour drive via a Spotify playlist.  I believe we got through about fifteen rounds on our way to Lexington, so about sixty songs, and it was a enjoyable way to pass the time.  Since our trip we’ve continued to gather together during the evenings to play a few rounds of songs, Zooming in my other daughter who lives in California.  It’s a great way to ensure a little family time instead of going off in separate rooms to pursue our own time-sucking activities. 

Each of us have our own proclivities, and the exercise has forced us to open up our minds to different genres and time periods.  My wife isn’t a music aficionado, but she’s come up with a bunch of songs that the rest of us never would have considered.  Case in point, and an example of one of the most egregious affronts to all that’s holy: Donny Osmond’s “Puppy Love,” my wife’s choice for “A Song You Remember From Childhood.”  Awful, awful stuff, but she’s also dug up some great songs, and my kids have introduced me to a bunch of newer tracks, including many in the hip-hop genre that I don’t normally gravitate toward.  In short, it’s been eye-opening and fun.  To make the exercise even more fun and challenging, many of us have opted to have no repeat artists, which is a feat after fifty rounds!

Some of the 30 day categories are a little lame, so we’ve created a bunch of our own. The possibilities are limitless. Rather than share all of our specific choices, I thought I’d list the other categories that we’ve come up.  Including the original 30 Day Challenge, we’ve now done 50 categories and have a bunch more in the works.  Here are the ones we’ve added so far and the songs I personally chose for each category:

Song that’s acoustic (Hometown – live version, Joe Jackson)
Song that expresses satisfying anger (Hard to Laugh, The Pursuit of Happiness)
Song that reminds you of a specific person (Code of Silence, Billy Joel)
Song that’s creepy (Paranoid Android, Radiohead)
Song whose musicianship amazes you (Rosanna, Toto)
Song with stupid lyrics that you still love (Everybody Have Fun Tonight, Wang Chung)
Song that pumps you up (If You Want It You Got It, Bryan Adams)
Song about friendship or support (Trouble Me, 10,000 Maniacs)
Song that’s funny but isn’t a parody or gag song (Her First Mistake, Lyle Lovett)
Song about societal problems (Oh Jungleland, Simple Minds)
Song that gives you the chills (We Belong Together, Rickie Lee Jones)
Song that tells a great story (I Hung My Head, Sting)
Song that celebrates a breakup (Salt In My Tears, Martin Briley)
Song that laments a breakup (I Miss You, Randy Newman)
Song that fills you with awe (And You And I, Yes)
Song that’s under three minutes (Dear Madam Barnum, XTC)
Song that’s a guilty pleasure (The Name of the Game, ABBA)
First song you heard by a particular artist (I Remember Me, Innocence Mission)
A great song from an otherwise bad album (Breathe, Melissa Etheridge)
Song that blew you away the first time you heard it (Here With Me, Dido)

One note: for the category of great story songs, my son and I actually chose the same tune – “I Hung My Head” – by Sting.  One of the best.  When I learned that we’d doubled up, I switched to another Sting song, “Ghost Story,” and could have easily chosen another of his tracks, “Seven Days.”  The guy can write a good story!

Here are the original 30 and my choices:

Song with a color in the title (Red Rain, Peter Gabriel)
Song with a number in the title (Driver Eight, REM)
Song that reminds you of summertime (One of these Days, Adrian Belew)
Song that reminds you of someone you’d rather forget (Change of Heart, Tom Petty)
Song that needs to be played loud (No More, No More, Aerosmith)
Song that makes you want to dance (Escapade, Janet Jackson)
Song to drive to (Spirit of Radio, Rush)
Song about drugs or alcohol (Comfortably Numb, Pink Floyd) - NOTE: my son picked the same song, so I switched to Alcohol by Barenaked Ladies)
Song you never get tired of (New Sensation, INXS)
Song from your preteen years (Stay in Time, Off Broadway)
Song from the 70s (Logical Song, Supertramp)
Song to be played at your wedding (Sweet Potato Pie, James Taylor)
Cover song (Stop Your Sobbing, The Pretenders)
Classic favorite (Sir Duke, Stevie Wonder)
Duet You’d Sing for Karaoke (Common People, William Shatner)
Song from the year you were born (Hung Up on a Dream, The Zombies)
Song that makes you think about life (Fast Forward, Joe Jackson)
Song that has many meanings (Love and Hard Times, Paul Simon)
Song with a person’s name in the title (Alex Chilton, The Replacements)
Song that moves you forward (Chasing the Sun, Sara Bareilles)
Song everybody should hear (Tripping Through Time, Sunshine Boys)
Song by a band you wish was still together (Oscar Wilde, Company of Thieves)
Song by an artist no longer living (TVC15, David Bowie)
Song that makes you want to fall in love (Wink and a Smile, Harry Connick, Jr.)
Song that breaks your hears (Traveling Star - live version, James Taylor)
Song by an artist whose voice you love (Sweet Surrender, Sarah McLachlan)
Song you remember from childhood (Band on the Run, Paul McCartney and Wings)
Song that reminds you of yourself (Grounded, Paul Heinz)

So there you are! Music, as usual, finds a way to soothe the soul during challenging times.  Make sure you’re getting your daily dose, and maybe use some of the above prompts for inspiration.

Two Passover Lessons during the Pandemic

My family’s Passover Seder last week was certainly like none I’d attended before, but even with people joining us remotely via Zoom while hunkered down in their various apartments, the essential elements of our Seder remained the same, and a few particularly poignant lessons were elevated even further given humanity’s present plight.

Over the past few decades my family has used its own Haggadah, one originally created by our brother-in-law but then gradually transformed to grow along with our growing children.  We’d purchased half a dozen Haggadot over the years, and while all of them had their strengths, none of them did everything well, so rather than use a document that we weren’t happy with, we cherry picked those elements that spoke to us and inserted them into our own family Haggadah.  It’s since evolved into a somewhat permanent book now that our children are adults.

Passover has many themes, but there are two that especially speak to me each year, and in the midst of the global pandemic, their lessons ring even louder:  1) gratitude; and 2) how we may not be slaves, but we are often still enslaved.

GRATITUDE

I’ve written about his topic before, but Passover does such a good job of addressing one of humanity’s most precious gifts that I’d like to touch on it once more.  One Hebrew word that’s in every Haggadah is dayenu, which means roughly “It would have been enough for us.”  In the Seder we recite that many things God did to free the Israelites from Egypt, and after each one we say (or sing) “Dayenu.”  Sheila Peltz Weinberg offers a wonderful commentary on how dayenu can be applied to our lives today, and I’d like to share it here.  I believe this comes from New American Haggadah, a hugely flawed book that includes some absolutely wonderful writings by various contributors.  Weinberg writes:

Dayenu signifies deep acceptance and gratitude.  We acknowledge the present moment.  This acceptance allows us to move to the next moment and receive the waiting gift.  When we greet each moment with conditions, judgements and expectations – “well, this isn’t quite where we need to be” or “wait a second, this is not what we were promised” or “Hey, what’s coming next?” – out expectations keep us tense.  We are not free.  We are not available to receive the next moment.  Our fantasies about the past and our desire to control the future cut us off from the wonders of this moment.  They shut us in a prison of disappointment and suffering.  Dayenu is a great liberator.  It is a jot into the presence of awe, compassion, attentions, and freedom.

I love this commentary.  It addresses the state of being human so succinctly.  When we take stock in our blessings, we are happier and freer, and we can properly live in the moment. 

ENSLAVEMENT

The story of Passover is one of liberation from slavery, but even if we aren’t currently slaves, we humans find various ways to enslave ourselves, failing to live fully in the moment.  I believe I borrowed the following quote from a Haggadah and then substantially expanded it to include many additional ways that we create stress and conflict in our lives.  It speaks to me every time I read it:

We may no longer be slaves to Pharaoh, but are we slaves to other aspects of our lives? 

Are we slaves to our careers?  Slaves to addiction?  To anxiety?  To judging ourselves or others?  To self-indulgence or low self-esteem?  To comparing ourselves to our neighbors, friends and family?  Are we slaves to the past, refusing to let go of the times we’ve been wronged?  Slaves to fear?  Are we slaves to the latest gadget, the biggest, the fastest?  What about jealousy, fashion, sports, TV, computers or consumerism?  To our wardrobes?  Slaves to our lawns?  Home remodeling?  Social media?  Slaves to pride?  To self-pity?  Slaves to constantly striving for perfection?  Slaves to always having to be right or having to get the last word?  Slaves to making excuses for not doing what we know we should do?

Let us all strives to be slaves to nothing except gratitude, love, acceptance, contentment, kindness, justice, beauty, truth and tikkun olam, repairing the world one action at a time.

In the midst of sheltering in place for the past couple of weeks, I’ve observed families, and I like what I see.  I see people taking stock of their blessings, enjoying each other’s company, taking a breath, being kind to each other, slowing down and reaching out for those in need.  What’s happening worldwide is scary and – for many – debilitating, both financially and with terrible hospitalizations and deaths.  But for those of us who are lucky enough to remain healthy and have shelter and food, there is definitely a silver lining to our current situation. 

I feel like the lessons of Passover are more important than ever.  If we can express gratitude, live in the moment, and help those in need, we may find ourselves a happier society when we reach the other side of the pandemic. Hang in there, everbody!

Of Pandemics, Performing and Toilet Paper

Nobody told me there'd be days like these
Strange days indeed
most peculiar, Mama
-        John Lennon, from “Nobody Told Me.”

The lyrics of this Lennon tune keep running through my head.  It seems almost quaint that a mere three weeks ago I was writing about the upcoming baseball season and how my Brewers were in jeopardy of laying a big old egg.  I would take the egg at this point, as even bad baseball is preferable to no baseball, and with the MLB pulling the plug on the start of the season – wisely so – humanity is left to squander away its evening hours without the benefit of America’s Pastime. 

So what to do?  Be productive, I guess, or at least spend time with things that make you feel good.  So far I’ve managed to stay sufficiently busy during the social distancing phase of the Global Pandemic, but I recognize many factors are in my favor.  There are many people who are suffering either from illness, anxiety, loneliness, or sundry other ailments that afflict mankind without the added misery of a pandemic.  It’s important to keep that in mind and spend a moment each day giving thanks.  I am thankful for the following:

1)    I live in a safe neighborhood that allows me to go outside regularly.
2)    I have enough money to buy food, pay for utilities, keep up to date on my mortgage, etc.
3)    Neither I nor anyone in my family is sick.
4)    I live with two other people and have an additional two visitors, so I have plenty of social interaction.
5)    My neighbors are out and about and I’m able to enjoy conversations with people outside my family.
6)    My wife still has her job.
7)    My religious institution is doing a wonderful job of having a virtual gathering each day to learn or converse.

Add to these blessings that we all live in the age when connectivity allows for so many time-sucking pursuits – some of them even moderately noble – that many of us have no excuse not to use our time wisely. A pandemic thirty years ago would have been much more challenging with fewer opportunity to kill time, though I’ve somehow managed to accomplish a number of goals in an old-fashioned manner.  I’ve almost completed gutting my basement, I built a wooden record rack with one or two more planned, I finished recording demos for my next album, and I performed for my neighborhood block with an impromptu duo, to wit, The Highland Avenue Coronavirus Band.

Unfortunately, haters love to hate, and a very sanctimonious and unobservant woman took it upon herself to record a video (while driving her car!) and share it on our neighborhood Facebook page in an attempt to publicly shame us for failing to pay heed to the seriousness of society’s current predicament. I think it’s important to note that social distancing does NOT mean no socializing.  It means socializing at a distance.  When my neighbor Dean and I performed for an hour yesterday in front of maybe three dozen people, families sat in clusters because they’re…um…families, but then sat at least six feet apart from each other, as per Governor Pritzker’s orders for our fine state of Illinois.  The poster of the condemning video apparently doesn’t understand this. Fortunately she received a number of negative comments online and promptly removed the video. Chalk one up for humanity.  And good neighbors.  And music.

Even the toilet paper shortage – a shortage of our own making, mind you – hasn’t gotten me down.  I arrived at a Target store last week right at the opening bell but still too late to grab a package of Charmin, and as I walked out empty-handed, a woman hoisting two large toilet paper packages – one in each hand – offered to share some of her lot with me.  Really, it was the least she could do, as she shouldn’t have grabbed two packages to begin with, but so often humanity fails to do the least it can do, and in this instance she met my low expectations. I told her no thank you and felt a warm fuzzy feeling that maybe, just maybe, we’re all in this crazy pandemic together. 

All this is to say that I hope you’re all doing okay.  If you’re able to volunteer at a food pantry or call on an elderly neighbor, please do so (if you’re healthy).  Keep in touch with friends and neighbors – at a distance – and take some time to do a crossword puzzle, read a book, play with your kids or cook a nice meal.  Hang in there, and pray that come June or July we can once again spend our evenings enjoying nine innings of baseball.

Speaking of which, I may need to amend my predictions for this year’s Milwaukee Brewers.  I’m on it.  Now if only the Milwaukee Bucks would do right and return the money I spent for three tickets to this Friday’s game!