Wednesday, June 10, 2009


I wonder what the last record I ever buy will be?

Will it be a fitting end to this habit, a perfect full stop? Will it be at least a part explanation for the hoarding, the money spent, will anyone even care?

The answer is no. I mean that's not the answer to the question about what the last record I ever buy might be, but that is the answer to the stream of conciousness that followed.


And I am not entirely sure how that sits with me. It should make the days on end I spend on the internet or in shops looking for records seem utterly pointless, it should encourage me to sell the lot and spend the proceeds on a car, a car I could drive to the Lake District where I would swim or boat before settling down to a good ploughmans and a pint of Guinness. The table tops would be old and rugged and the land lord might be called Colin and knowingly he would have removed all of the horse brasses in advance of my arrival.

The stark realisation that the 'picture' will never be complete, that the collecting is endless, it should encourage me to cut and run. but it doesn't. It just makes me hope that whatever that last record is it's not something really shit.

...No idea where I was going with that, it's been a week since I wrote it. Entries to my blog have become more and more infrequent but sadly my enthusiasm for all things, well, most things record related has not waned. 

If somebody, probably the Devil or something, said to me 'You can walk away from it now and never get that urge to spend relatively vulgar amounts on a seemingly normal record, all you have to do is say the word...'

I would say the word.

But it's not that easy, in the spirit of Bamber Gascoigne or whatever the guy from Mastermind was called 'I have started so I shall finish'.

I wonder how many people have died in record shops?

So, this started as a review of some album. I don't like James Brown, could be because when he says his own name it sounds like he's saying 'Jane Brown'. Could be because 'Sex Machine' has reached a similar status of international annoyance to that of BLACK LACE'S 'Agadoo'.... actually it's worse, at least 'Agadoo' has the steel drums and the rising sound in the chorus. 'Sex Machine' just reminds me of every sixth form disco and bad small town nigh club on a Thursday night that ever existed. Could be his hair. He's got a pretty wide face as well, looks a bit like a dustbin lid or a satellite dish. Anyway, I don't know why I dislike the Brownster, I just do.

This in mind I have avoided much of his back catalogue, then I was in a record shop (Really?) a couple of weeks back and they were playing 'Ain't it Funky Down Here?' 'Ain't it Funky Down Here' is not a bad album at all, mainly because Jimmy doesn't sing a single solitary note on the entire thing... Not one word, nothing from beginning to end. I imagine that at the time this pissed Browny fans no end because it isn't really a James Brown album.

Anyway, we have established what it kind of isn't so what is it? 'Ain't it Funky Down Here' is a pretty dang respectable psychedelic guitar work out complete with obligatory breaks and unfortunately obvious bass. 

Since buying this I have had to buy a copy of 'Hell' because otherwise it just looks a bit odd on it's own, and I currently have a copy of whatever the album is called where he looks a bit like a disgruntled cowboy on the sleeve... And so the cycle begins again.

No comments:

Post a Comment