The Fatherlode, Part One
Two-thousand miles from my home in Arizona (give or take), there exists a treasure trove. This is not a Lost Dutchman’s Mine, either. I know where it is and what’s in it (for the most part).
My Mom lives in central New York State, still in the house I grew up in. I moved from there in the early 90’s, and it was not feasible for me to bring all of my belongings with me across the country. I didn’t know where I would be living or what my situation would be, so it didn’t make any sense to bring my records with me.
I didn’t have a huge collection — maybe only 40–50 records. I had all of my Journey records and a miscellaneous array of other popular albums of the 70’s and 80’s.
I remember having the Eric Clapton Crossroads set, an Elton John Greatest Hits, and John Cougar’s American Fool (which may have been my sister’s, though I can’t remember for sure). I don’t remember all of them, but you get the idea. I always thought that I would like to have the records with me in Arizona, but it was not until I began collecting that I gave it any serious thought.
I had three records I paid special care to, as they were Japanese pressings. Many regard Japanese vinyl as higher quality than copies made in other parts of the world. According to a post at Facerecords.com, these records were made with “virgin” vinyl instead of recycled vinyl. This, combined with higher quality controls (and smaller batches), meant less perceived surface noise and better overall sound.
The Japanese versions also came with an OBI strip, a unique, decorative advertising “sash” that wraps the record. It’s all in Japanese. I can’t read an OBI strip myself, but it looks cool.
The first of my Japanese pressings was (of course) a Journey record, the soundtrack album Dream After Dream. This was a rare find then, as it was created exclusively for a Japanese film and not for western audiences. It was released in 1980, sandwiched between the Departure album and Captured live set, and was Gregg Rolie’s last studio album with the band. I also had a copy of Rush’s Permanent Waves from Japan, but the real find was Guns ‘n Roses Appetite for Destruction, with the original (and disturbing) cover. I found that one on a trip to Canada with some college friends back when you did not need a passport to do such things.
My Mom came to Arizona last year and brought three of the records she found after I told her where I remembered they were. She brought Steve Miller Band’s Greatest Hits (one I remember getting from Columbia House back in college), Billy Joel’s Streetlight Serenade because I was going to one of his concerts last December, and Led Zeppelin II. The cover is in awful condition, but the record plays well.
I have no recollection of ever owning this album. However… it may have been my Dad’s.
My Dad was a huge fan of music and had some amazing records that I would appreciate far more now than I did as a teenager. He was particularly fond of Motown, but I remember him having some Beatles records and Cream’s Wheels of Fire, too. He also had some Santana records, including the self-titled debut and a live set featuring Carlos Santana and Buddy Miles.
We lost my Dad in 2018, and I think about him a lot. I remember him bringing albums home from the library and recording them on cassettes. This is what pirating music looked like in the late 70s, I guess. He used to get upset with me when I took these cassettes to my room without asking — I remember him being particularly mad when he could not find a Jackson Browne tape I had absconded with.
Review forthcoming!
Mom tells me she has found Dad’s records right next to mine. I am traveling to New York this week, and she has invited me to go through them. I am looking forward to looking through Dad’s collection to see what other chestnuts may be available for transport back to Arizona. This will be my first attempt at traveling with records, and my son gave me a special carry-on for exactly that purpose on Father’s Day.
Consider this part one of this story, and I will tell you what else I find on my trip to the Fatherlode.
