On this particular occasion, though, I had quite the success: $22 got me Emotional Rescue, The Unforgettable Fire, Heroes, a replacement copy of Court and Spark, and Let's Active albums Cypress and Big Plans for Everybody. It was only the unwillingness to spend more money that made me leave behind At Fillmore East, several lesser Kinks albums, and more Bowie. The Let's Active albums were the big surprise to me: they were a southern early 80s band mostly known because one of their members (Mitch Easter) produced the first two R.E.M. albums. Though you can go on amazon and buy the cd versions of all their albums, I had never expected to see them in the wild, much less on vinyl.
This is, these days, the closest approximation one can get to scarcity in music. That the business of music has changed entirely since I was a teenager is undeniable. Whether that's good or not is another matter entirely. So I read with interest Bill Wyman(not that Bill Wyman)'s article in Slate on the problem of instantly available music. I tentatively agree with his conclusions:
Still, it's all fun, and back in the day it could, sometimes, give one a thrill, like when a band in concert, say, played a song you knew but the rest of the crowd didn't. Those days are probably over. But I also know what fans don't always admit: That the vast majority of the rare stuff wasn't all that good. It was rare for a reason, however much the collectors and completists talked it up. A good rule of thumb is that if the fans (or the PR person) are talking about how you're hearing the music rather than the music itself, the music might not be that good.
I enjoy the thrill of the hunt as much as the next music snob, but I enjoy being able to find any song I want much more.
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