About three years ago, I had a record collection that, quite simply put, was to die for. I was not a collector nerd. I was a music enthusiast. There is a very large difference. I had a wall of LPs. I had 7"s in a shelving unit...six drawers of EPs. It was an overwhelmingly great spread. My friends would come over and sift through them, always pulling something out and saying something along the lines of, "Are you fucking kidding me? Where did you get this?" To which I would have to reply I went to the show when they played. Or I pre-ordered it, etc.
I worked at a record store for five plus years, and every little disorted gem that came through the back of that store in shipment I, more times than not, ended up purchasing.
I didn't buy clothes, or shoes, or cars....or, a lot of the times, food.
I bought records, cd, and dvds.
Present day, I now have about a tenth of the records I had back then. I sold them all. Not for pointless shit, not for every day needs. I sold these records off little by little to afford a touring lifestyle. Those records paid for plane tickets. They paid for ordering another box of t-shirts, for recording, for extra gas in the van. Those records paid for things that were necessary.
I've had so many people I know ask me how I could do this. So many people not able to understand how I was able to part with some of these gems. For me, that's where I realized I'm different than a lot of the people I know that value their possessions more than thier lives. I traded a wall of sound for a few years of making it. An LP can't drive you around the country or fly you to Europe to play shows for three weeks.
Do I miss them? Fuck yeah, I do. I miss them dearly. I miss the pining through the shelves for hours on end, being able to grab something I forgot I had, taking out that beautiful slab of vinyl and placing it carefully on the record player, dropping the needle and turning up the receiver loud.
When I sold these records, I made sure to play all of them one last time, giving them the respect they deserved. It was much like having my own musical autobiography, seeing as I was selling things that had taken up the last fifteen years of my life. I remembered which show I had bought something at, remembered coming home from work with a big mailorder package waiting for me at the front door. All of those things.
I did what I needed to do to make things happen and I don't regret it. I know that within the next few years, I'l slowly build that monster back up to what it used to be, and I know it will feel even better this time around. Being in my forties, sifting through those shelves, will mean just as much as it did twenty plus years previous. Until then, I can be happy with what I have: less records, but a full time touring schedule, the opportunity to create albums of my own, and personal artistic expression without barriers.
Boys, girls, men, women....sell what you own if it gets you to where you want to be. Don't worry, odds are the kids that buy your records from you will become jaded and disinterested within five years and will sell them back to you if you want them. If you're a lifer, then you know this already.
This whole piece just kind of seems like a downer. In a way, it's like trying to explain your longest relationship in your life, and how it ended, and whether or not there's hope for the future. Don't worry, wall of distortion....you'll be back in my arms as soon as can be. I just have some things to take care of in this life before we'll be able to see each other again. I know you'll understand, and I promise you'll have new friends added to you on a weekly basis as long I can still find my way to a record store.
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