Old Records Never Die: One Man's Quest for His Vinyl and His Past

When I first read the Tweedy introduction, I thought I was already reading Spitznagel. Then I realized this wasn't the magnetic voice that was going to see me through the entire journey. But once I got to the parts written by the author, I was like, no, yeah, this is good, too. I'm in. I popped the book in my cart and felt more than a little anticipation as I waited for it to arrive.It had its shimmering highs. The chapter with Heather, the scenes with Bob, the whispered pleas to pretend-like Bananarama, the desperate bargaining with Silver Moustache and his red-sweatsuit-wearing wife and the actual consumption of thirty-six-year-old Booberry (the character of John really endeared himself) were standouts for me. I choked up at the final sentence of initial backstory featuring the HANDS OFF!!! Kiss aIbum and Mark and I actually put the book down and smiled into the night after reading the bit about the streaking and the elderly widow.That said, I didn't buy the anecdotal memories of Abrianna and Susan S. They felt locker-room embellished at best, totally made up at worst. There were moments when he could have been kinder (there's no need to call him Corey effin Hart) and a little less sorry for himself (honestly, my sympathies were heavily with Kelly). But I did read it all the way through. And it left enough of an impression for me to wake up the next morning itching to write a review. Do I recommend it? If you're inclined to browse through its sample pages based on the premise, yeah. I do. I just wish, and this is totally just me, that it'd been the tiniest bit softer at the corners for a rounder, slightly-less acerbic experience of saudade.

I was very excited by the premise of this book, but it simply doesn't deliver. I'm a music fanatic who has recently returned to vinyl, and I love searching through used record stores looking for albums I used to own before giving them away during one move or another. The description of Spitznagel's book made it seem like we were kindred spirits, and I looked forward to reading about his quest to recover his missing loves.Unfortunately, this premise wasn't the focus of the book. Instead, Spitznagel focuses more on the journey to adulthood and how often we fight against new responsibilities (parenthood, a steady income) in favor of past indiscretions (drugs, one-night stands, wasteful spending). What's more, he has little of interest to say in this regard, sharing many of the same platitudes and ideas that have been explored--in far more interesting terms--hundreds (or thousands) of times in the past. The sections where he discusses music are my favorite passages--such as his description of attending a Replacements reunion concert as an adult, or trying to listen to a Misfits album when he's really a Billy Joel fan--but they become less prevalent as the book goes on. Spitznagel also engages in some bizarre activities--moving his old furniture into his old house for a 12-hour listening party with friends, bringing a Replacements album to the afore-mentioned concert in the rain for no apparent reason, smoking multiple joints in the basement of someone's house looking through boxes of albums--and these result in the understanding that instead of being a kindred spirit, I do not identify with him or his mindset. Some writing looks for common ground between the author and reader; Spitznagel seems to enjoy finding the uncommon ground.The writing itself is serviceable, with occasional analogies that are insightful or hilarious, but there aren't enough of them to warrant a higher rating in my opinion. I wanted to like this book, but it ends up being like an album with one or two good songs but far too much filler. I'd put it back in the bargain bin.

One very late night when I was in college, my boyfriend's roommate and part time DJ put a Styx album on his turntable and tried to play the record backward so we could hear the rumored backmasking. We heard something that may or may not have sounded like, "Satan", and ran crying and screaming in fear to hide behind the living room sofa. I also had a cheap turntable from K-Mart; I taped a dime to the top of the tone arm so it wouldn't skip as much. If either of these stories make sense to you, you'll love this book. It 's a tale of the importance of musical artifacts from our youth. Although, I would never go so far as Mr. Spitznagel and eat decades-old artificially colored cereal in the pursuit of reliving old memories.

This is the story of a record collector who actually got rid of most of his albums...until one day he realizes what a mistake he had made and decides to try to find all (or as many) of the albums that he once lost. I don't mean replacement LPs, I mean the *exact* same albums that he had originally gotten rid of. He remembered all of them intimately by the markings on the outer sleeves, writing/marks on the labels, and exactly where specific skips and scratches occurred on the actual vinyl. As the subtitle states: One Man's Quest for His Vinyl and His Past. A very enjoyable read....

I can honestly say i loved this book. It does go off without explanation often, and some of his musical taste is a bit obscure, but i couldn't stop reading it. He writes well, and this hit close to home. I am a music hoarder, who recently discobered i need my records nack (I will settle for other copies, or reissues, as i always cared for my records).

I love music (especially on vinyl) and i love reading about music so this book seemed an ideal purchase. However it left me feeling unfulfilled!It isn't really a book about records at all, although they crop up regularly throughout the story, but it's a man's story of a mid-life crisis and how he chooses to deal with that issue and in so far as that goes it's an interesting and quite unusual concept/story.If you're a man of a certain age (as i am) it'll make you smile and at times laugh out loud at the pleasures (?) of old age and the inevitable yearning for past (rose tinted?) glories.Its an enjoyable light read but it would have been nice to have had a chapter written by his long suffering wife as her oft bewilderment (and sometimes understanding) is only just touched upon.The discussions on actual music are way too limited and some of the situations e.g returning to his old house and everything that transpires there is just creepy!!As he says himself in the penultimate chapter "This wasn't harmless nostalgia. I was an old man spinning his wheels. Quite suddenly i was acutely aware that everything i'd done over the past year had been a colossal waste of time" and to be brutally honest although the book is not unpleasant i had similar thoughts.

This isn't about records, it's about a man's search for his lost youth centered around a record collection. It's not the music on the records, as much as it is about the recovery of specific instances of each records. The narration is OK, but I must admit to getting bored at times, and while I did read through entirely, I was tempted to give up a couple of times. Perhaps it's that this is more a tale of a middle-age crisis and recovering memories, but there's little memorable in this tale when I was done, alas.

Being a lover, and collector of records for 36 years this book struck a chord with me. I have the majority of records I have ever owned. If I don't have a record I had as a kid it is because it was worn out. Reading about Eric's journey made me happy, there are others out there like me. It's nice to know.

Buen producto, entregado en tiempo y forma

Thanks!