Feel free

Feel free

Following the way

I was in my early twenties, and already well on my way toward building the most complete Eagles related record collection ever attempted in Australia. Well, that’s certainly how I felt about the whole project back then, and I was immensely proud of my taxonomic knowledge and time-series awareness with regard to the ‘family tree’ of all things Eagles.

Linda Ronstadt, Buffalo Springfield, Poco, Firefall, The James Gang, The Flying Burrito Brothers, Byrds, The Session, Randy Newman, John Entwistle of The Who, Joni Mitchell, Dan Fogelberg… just a short list of bands and musicians who cross polinated and shared session musicians. Do session musicians still exist in the popular music scene these days?

But I’m not here to reconstruct my early musical education for you – root, branch and tree. I have a stack of system cards on my coffee table and an Excel spreadsheet for that. Instead, I just want to share a song that has followed me both lyrically and musically through my life, and always speaks to my current state of mind and perceived place in the world, regardless of whether I am feeling up or down.


Children’s drawing

As a child, my pencil and crayon drawings were very formulaic. I would typically start with a mountain range and then build a house at the base of it. The house would consist of a square and a rectangle beside each other, a triangle on top of the square, and a parallelogram on the rectangle. The square was where the door went, and two windows went in the rectangle. Around the house I would draw some trees, grass tufts and flowers. Then I would put some birds in the sky and finish it off with a ball of sun in the top right corner with nice straight rays of light pointing at the house.
With this memory in mind, and with my 47th birthday approaching next week, I have reconstructed one of my children’s drawings from a few items I found at hand. The result is a bit puzzling to mind, which insists on decoding the whole process and psychoanalyzing myself.
I figure I have either lost my childhood innocence, or I have regained my sense of youthful playfulness. Can both of those things exist together?

Children's Drawing

Children’s Drawing

How we swallow the sun

The title for this image is borrowed from the lyrics of the song that inspired it.

How we swallow the sun

How we swallow the sun

Runaway by The National.

ubi sunt

ubi sunt
 Things never possessed mutability
 as though that were some kind of quality.
 It was just an illusion;
 the typically human
 Disease of Mind’s imputability.

Australian World Record Club

I’ve been immersing myself in the process of restoring order and playability to my extensive vinyl LP collection this month, while building an inexpensive stereo system to play them back on. Some of the records haven’t survived the 3 or 4 years of storage they were subjected to. They were all packed properly on their edges in boxes and kept off the ground so they wouldn’t get damp. Nevertheless, I’ve discovered a few that have developed milky swirls under the surface of the vinyl – presumably mould. A few have also grown bumps, which I believe is called vinyl cancer. In all my years of collecting vinyl – since my mid-teens – I haven’t encountered mould or cancer in my collection, so this has come as a bit of a shock to the system, and caused some regret for neglecting it for so long. Another thing I’ve noticed is that many of the record covers have come unglued along the bottom edge. Overall though I think most of it can be restored to life, and I’ve discovered some real treasures in the process.
One of those treasures is a collection of 130 LPs from the Australian World Record Club catalogue (of about 2000) that my Aunt Betty Harvey left me when she passed away a few years ago. They are in exceptional condition for the most part, and half the fun of sorting through these records has been in simply admiring the labels, cover art and reading the erudite descriptions that adorn the backs of the covers.
One of the covers that I’m rather taken with belongs to the Rossini box set, Il Barbiere Di Siviglia. Included is a “line-by-line libretto [linking] each phrase of the original text with an English singing version”. Not included is the name of the designer responsible for the cover! I haven’t been able to locate this art reproduced anywhere on the internet, so I’m no wiser. One of the designers who worked at the World Record Club studio in Melbourne has published ‘Its Another World Record — Album Cover Art’, celebrating their cover art designs of the late fifties and sixties. I have placed it on my list of books to acquire and read. I may find the answer there. In the meantime, I hope I’m not breaking any copyright rules by posting the image here for your enjoyment.
Now I’m going to listen to it! I listened to Liszt last night and was pleasantly surprised by how much I enjoyed it. It seems an engaging visual and erudite description is all it took for me to discover the joys of classical and opera. I still like my folk and country rock though.

Heart is a kind of wavy line

Heart is a kind of wavy line

Heart is a kind of wavy line