Three Albums I Would Never Know and Love without Turn it Up!, Northampton, Massachusetts
By Ryan O’Hara
Above all, for me, record stores are an opportunity to encounter, explore, and celebrate music as a tangible good. There’s a joy in thumbing through the rows of albums and seeing what catches your attention — this artwork? That title? This rarity you’ve never heard of from an artist you thought you knew so well? — that can never be replicated by the streaming experience.
Thus, on many a lazy Saturday have I, as so many humble audiophilic adventurers before me, donned my comfiest robes (ok, Alex G hoody), and shuffled reverently to my local record store.
That shrine, to which I, e’er the pilgrim, religiously return is called “Turn it Up!” Blink and you’d miss it: the store is tucked away in the basement of a Main St. commercial block, down a set of granite stairs so steep there’s a bar placed across them while the shop’s closed so that no unsuspecting citizen accidentally Mr. Bean’s themselves to death.
Make it down those stairs alive, though, and you’ll enter a music lover’s heaven. Sure, it’s tiny. But those three aisles are packed with so many staples, rarities, and curiosities it may as well be fifty times the size. Usually there’s a nice ambient weed smell, and the cashiers always opine on your purchases. It’s a wonderful place.
At the end of the day, is it terribly unique among record stores? No. But has it lead to me finding some extremely cool stuff? Absolutely. If I were an autocratic dictator of this country (and all real problems were already solved, duh) I think I’d mandate that everyone have a record played and a store like this one within 5 minutes walking from their front door. Life would be better.
Without my local record store, I never would have found the following three albums (which, per the stickers still on them, I apparently procured for less than $18 total, and each of which was bought on a total whim). You should check them out — or, better yet, go to your own neighborhood vinyl dealer and make some discoveries of your own.
“Ngola,” The Kafala Brothers: This 1989 album is a collection of Angolan folk music recorded by Moises and Jose Kafala, two Angolan brothers. The songs — sung in Kimbundu, Umbundu, and Portuguese — express the hope of a newly liberated nation (just 13 years freed from Portuguese control) under neocolonial assault from the U.S and South Africa. The music itself is a mix of African, South American, Caribbean, and European influences. Beautiful, and provides an interesting entry point to an unfamiliar history.
“The Best of the Pointer Sisters,” The Pointer Sisters: Issued in 1976, this collection was my introduction to the Pointer Sisters. I’d heard of them, but mostly knew of them from association with a great Tim Robinson sketch (the Pointer Brothers, look it up — it’s great too). When I first spun it, I was shocked by the sheer breadth and depth of genres this album covers. The Pointer Sisters deftly shift between soul, funk, blues, disco, country, and everything in between. It’s groovy as hell.
“David Live,” David Bowie: This is a recording of Bowie playing live on July 14–15, 1975, at the Tower Theater in Philadelphia. There was no later overdubbing or recording (except for some backing vocals). This is a fascinating document of David Bowie at the peak of his powers. He was mostly touring the music from Diamond Dogs. The charisma and talent oozes off the platter. The closing run of Big Brother through Rock ’N’ Roll Suicide will cause you to leave your body.
