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POP IN TAPE: Hot Wax In The 215

VINYL SOLUTION: Jerry Weber of Jerry’s Records, Pittsburgh, PA- the man who taught a generation of yinzers to love records

fich.thumbnail.jpgBY MICHAEL FICHMAN Every summer, I troll around the streets of Philadelphia on sunny Saturdays and Sundays, looking for records. Behind mattresses and shitty table lamps, there are stacks of moldy gems waiting to see the light of a crisp diamond stylus. There are Al Greens who have gone decades without singing sweet romance, Bohannons who haven’t put their lifts on since the Carter Administration, Dwight Yoakams dry and dessicated like roadkill ten miles outside of Bakersfied. A typical exchange goes something like this:

“What do you want for those records?”

“Just get ‘em out of here, I haven’t listened to those in years.”

Perfect.

Here are just some of my favorite “take those off my hands” gems from last summer- perhaps a harbinger of dusty grooves to come in ’07:

The Isley Brothers “Givin’ it Back

Good Fucking Lord. This is a mind-blower of the first order is it not? Before Ron Isley set off on a course where he became an exponentially larger caricature of a street pimp each year, he was ripping off nylon-string versions of Lay Lady Lay and mashing up Buffalo Springfield with Band of Gypsies. And (no offense Warren Zevon), his hair was perfect.

Little Willie John “All 15 of His Chart Hits (1953-1962)

Don’t get it twisted, before there was Peggy Lee, Little Willie John was crooning Fever, a tune he penned in 1956. But Little Willie John, who died in prison at age 31 exactly 15 years to the day before my birth, wrote a verse that was burned into my mind in my childhood. Hanging in a frame in my parents kitchen were the words to All Around the World:

If I don’t love you baby
Grits ain’t groceries
Eggs ain’t poultry
And Mona Lisa was a man

Sade “Diamond Life

Granted, I already owned a copy of this when I found a nice, clean, sealed pressing at a porch sale near 63rd and Girard, but every copy of this record deserves a loving home, so for a dollar, I gave it one. Everybody knows Smooth Operator, but Hang on to Your Love is my absolute favorite track off this album. By the way, Sade, if you’re reading this, I have a table for two on Friday, email Valania for my info.

Jelly Roll Morton “1924-1926

I wish I could tell you that I bought this from a wind-bitten old man who told me a story about the time he saw Jelly Roll Morton play, but I can’t. But wow, if there isn’t something transcendant about an old-time rag. Even though the recordings are poor to begin with, the energy just jumps out of the speakers and almost demands a sip of bathtub gin.

Enya “Enya

I know I’m gonna catch some heat for calling this a “find,” even at a dollar, but tell me you don’t think the Fugees combination of Boadicea with the Delfonics Ready or Not was absolutely genius? Thought so.

MFSB “Love is the Message b/w TSOP

This is a 45 with two distinct, equally excellent sides- there’s Love is the Message, the uptempo disco track that’s almost proto-house in a way. It still moves a dance floor while making old-timey Philly heads wistful for the days when Dexter Wansel and others graced the Huff and Gamble roster. The B-side is TSOP, The Sound of Philadelphia- memorable to new jacks for it’s hook, sampled on Jay-Z’s The Black Album. The Sound of Philadelphia indeed.

Happy Digging.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR: Fich is the first ordained rabbi in the musical church of Robot James Brown. He owns a lot of records and people pay him to play them. He writes for Just Sayin’.

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One Response to “POP IN TAPE: Hot Wax In The 215”

  1. scott Says:

    “My favorite record collecting story”
    I am a degenerate vinyl collector. Last fall my local library was selling off its entire record collection, which has been in mothballs for the past two decades, for a buck each!
    As you can imagine, swarms of single guys stormed the bastilles of crate after crate of scratchy goodness looking for their petroleum based Holy Grail. Unfortunately, I arrived a bit late and it looked like the place was already weeded through. I halfheartedly started looking through a bin and to my astonishment picked, no lie, in succession, mint copies of “James Brown – Live at the Apollo -KING records -1962″ and a copy of “Rolling Stones – Exile on Main Street”!
    Still thumbing through the crate, a fellow sidles up to the right of me and proceeds to dig through the crate right next to mine. I will name him Micheal Fichman. I ignored him, concentrating on the pile ahead of me, looking through all the dreck, lots of Herb Albert and Montovani, it seemed like the library was stuck in a Columbia House Record Club phase for a while. Suddenly. Micheal Fichman reaches into the back of MY CRATE and pulls out a beautiful copy of “Cream’s – Disreali Gears” The psychedelic cover sleeve sparkled in the late September sun. I’m not the biggest Cream fan in the world, in fact, I fucking hate Eric Clapton! Still, I was astonished at the sheer gall that Micheal Fichman displayed when he reached into my crate. It was inconsiderate and it broke about a thousand etiquette rules. He just looked at me, gave a half smile, shrugged and said, “I’m sorry, I just saw that record sticking out and I’m a huge Clapton fan!” I gave him the ol’ fisheye for a couple of seconds and went back to work on my crate.
    Still steaming I was unable to concentrate. I could not believe the gall of this ass, I needed vengeance, I needed him to feel my wrath. I started looking over in his crate, lo and behold, peeking out of top, something looked interesting. Like Author pulling out Excalibur out of the giant rock, slowly, picture the “chariots of fire” theme playing in the background, I reached over into his crate and pulled out a mint condition 1st pressing copy of “Meet the Beatles” Mono with the brown Beatles lettering! No Shit! The heavens parted, a poop eating grin came across my face and the joy I felt when I saw Micheal Fichman’s face crumble into a smear of jealousy, frustration and self loathing is a feeling that I will carry with me to warm my heart through its darkest moments.
    For that one moment, my life rocked!

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