My First Record: Anabot

When most people talk about their first record, it’s something iconic and representative of that specific time in history. If you ask my mother, it was a single of The Archies’ “Sugar, Sugar” that she got from sending in some cereal box tops. Most people aren’t going to say it was a soundtrack, but for me, the first record that I purchased with my own money was some time in the late 90s, and it was none other than the soundtrack of Austin Powers: International Man of Mystery. I was absolutely obsessed with this film. Despite the fact that I was barely ten and only understood about 50% of the humor (probably a good thing), this film sparked not only my anglophilia (I still speak in a bad English accent from time to time), but it also nurtured my already growing love for all things 60s.

I think what I love most about this soundtrack is that it really is the perfect fit for the film. It travels through time like Austin Powers himself, beginning with the delicious 90s Brit Pop gem by Edwyn Collin’s, The Magic Piper (Of Love), and weaves into songs like the psychedelic classic, “Incense and Peppermints” by Strawberry Alarm Clock.

Before this idea of musical time traveling ever influenced me as a musician, I was just a pre-teen with an unusual affinity for an era I had never personally experienced, but desperately wanted to. I was living in Boulder, Colorado, but visiting my family in Southern California one summer and can still remember walking into the store, handing over the (only) $12 in my wallet, ripping off the shrink-wrap, and marrying myself to that CD for the next few hours driving down Highway 1, catching the light from the setting sun glimmering off the Santa Monica Pier. It’s still one of my perfect memories and probably the precise reason why my love of 60s styles, 90s pop, and California culture all seem to come from the same place.

Resulting from a combination of “analog” and “robot,” Anabot is the product of a dualism, of sorts. Crafted by Analise Nelson, she calls her experiment a “pop time machine with a rock engine.” Danceable yet driving, the end result is music that manages to transcend time itself, blending electronic pop with 60s Brit and surf rock. Can’t get enough electro-pop? Anabot releases her self-titled debut just in time to kickstart your summer jams. Be on the look out for it June 12th.

My First Record: Nick Africano

The first record I bought for myself was Jimi Hendrix’s The Ultimate Experience, the collection of Jimi’s greatest hits. I was 13 years old. I had bought albums before then while going to the store with my parents or with friends, but this was the first record I bought with my own money, on my own. I took the bus to the mall, and was music shopping, and the record cover seemed to call to me. I had no idea who he was, but it looked rebellious, cool, psychedelic, and exciting. It hailed me. I felt proud I had selected it.

I took it home, unwrapped the package, put the CD in my stereo, and took out the booklet to read along while listening. I was hooked. The first notes of “Purple Haze” played. It felt magical and mysterious. Then “All Along the Watchtower” with its powerful, driving power chords and lyrical guitar solos. I felt like the universe had unveiled a great secret for me.

From Jimi I worked backwards. He was my gateway record. I tried to uncover all the blues greats who helped shaped Jimi’s style, from Albert King to Robert Johnson, and continuing backward to early delta blues. And it led me to Bob Dylan. I consider that purchase to be one of the most influential moments in my early musical life.

 

Nick Africano‘s brand new album The Butterfly Bull is a story about collaborations and the exploration of contradictions. About baseball and art. Love and loss. Dark yet hopeful. And it’s a story about Africano’s ability to pair some of the best elements of folk and soul with superb storytelling and raw passion.

Pick Three with T.J. Masters from Conveyor

1. Jodorowsky‘s Holy Mountain 

A film about a film, at heart, an idealistic pursuit of happiness via the machinations of a flesh-driven multi-linguist; the film itself as much of a trip as one can take through sacred texts and redefinitions of a sort of human atavism, a return to form, as it were, with just enough of a biological imperative to demand a like reflective reasoning process of its viewers (turn the lens on the lens as it lies).

While the consumption of organic matter with hallucinogenic properties is not explicitly recommended, the characters in which froth at the mouth and hurtle through dirt and earth which makes me cradle the thought of my…

2. Dove-brand(R) White Beauty Bar

Soap, which is the reason that I smell the way I do; Dove-brand(R) White Beauty Bars are composed of one-quarter pure (here undefined) moisturizing cream and are made mostly (that is to say the other 75%) from tallow, and but then washing oneself with the byproduct of another animal is a sort of comforting assurance of interspecies dominance anyway, a like 15 extra minutes of fame, which in the long run will not turn out to be a long run at all, and in any case in the mean time I’m willing to sacrifice a kinda sense of ecological awareness in favor of silky-smooth skin and a neutral, pleasant odor, which, with regard to the external world on which I unwittingly project things like smell, I’m obliged to dedicate a portion of my daily reverence to…

3. LensCrafters(R)

For engineering and manufacturing corrective lenses, which, when installed in a plastic frame, sit snugly on my head and at a comfortable distance from my eyes via three contact points (left ear, right ear, bridge of nose) and bend wavelengths of light such that objects are registered as sharply in-focus, the measurement of which directly correlates to functions of navigation, information processing, non-verbal communication, etc. (q.v. Marr, D. (1982). Vision: A computational investigation into the human representation and processing of visual information. MIT Press: Cambridge, MA.), which, in any case, does not necessarily coincide with any factors of my personal decision to pursue a career as a musician, though I feel a responsibility to admit my fascination with Elvis Costello and the style of eyewear for which he is most known.

Conveyor is a Brooklyn-based music project spawned by the fated juncture of a wandering tarot of musicians in Gainesville, FL. Was it kismet or perhaps a primordial summon which led these gentlemen purveyors of sound to individually tune in and migrate North to the bustling seductress known as New York City? Their retort is Sun Ray, a debut EP birthed and released in the warm embrace of Spring 2011.

Brimming with lucid, homey synths layered over acoustic guitars and harmonious vocals, they channel extraterrestrial bible-thumpers drenched in love, spouting acid-soaked pop unabashed to beam with the simultaneous embrace of life/death realities backed by a polyrhythmic, pulsing backdrop. A decidedly grand task indeed, and following a string of self-released, handmade EPs, they are releasing their debut full-length album in 2012 with Brooklyn’s Paper Garden Records, a testament to our nature and the nature of ourselves.

My First Record: kayln rock

It was Christmas of ‘94. My Dad’s couch was littered with balls of crumpled up newspaper comics (I always assumed that the Christmas elves were avid New York Times readers) as I unwrapped a stack of what would be the Genesis of my CD collection.

CrazySexyCool was the first to free itself out of the annoying constraints of its plastic and sticky-taped binding and into my CD player. Before this, TLC only came by way of bittersweet seconds of radio play while my Mom would browse stations for Garth Brooks. At eight years old, I was confident that I was ready to kick it like the girls who sat in the back of the bus and sink my baby teeth into songs that had more substance than Raffi’s, Banana Phone. Priding myself as an observant kid, I noticed that even though the overall sexual subject matter of CrazySexyCool wasn’t something I could completely understand or even understand that I couldn’t completely understand it, that didn’t stop me from drawing a line in sharpie under my right eye (because I thought it was my left) and singing about the importance of water safety (don’t go chasing waterfalls) to my generic beanie babies.

kayln rock comes from Hudson, New York, a small town just north of New York City. She grew up in the house her grandfather was raised in. She recalls, “When I was young, my Dad would play Buddy Holly songs for me on his guitar. “I would dance on top of his feet as he held my hands listening to The Police.” She went to SUNY Purchase, planning to write for the screen and stage. It was while attending a filmmaking course in Maine, the summer of 2008, that she picked up her friend’s guitar and the songs began to pour out of her. “I think it was a creative domino effect of sorts. If I hadn’t decided to branch out and study film that summer, I don’t think I would have found the confidence to express myself through songwriting.”

rock’s latest album Passenger is available through iTunes and other online vendors starting in January of 2012. The album is also for sale her website www.kaylnrock.com. Fans can also check out her out on Twitter, Facebook and YouTube, and read up on the day-to-day happenings of a 25 year-old hopeful romantic that writes songs and plays shows.

My First Record: Lee Bains III (of Lee Bains III & The Glory Fires)

Standing in the cool, fluorescent cavern of the K-Mart, clacking through the stack of cassette tapes, boasting brightly colored stickers declaring things like “Wow! Only $6.99!” or “Feat. Warren G!,” I paused over one near the bottom. I’d heard of it. Probably from liner notes. One of my daddy’s Allman Brothers albums more than likely. Muddy Waters –  The Real Folk Blues. I pulled it from the plastic rack, carefully, turning it over in my fingers, looking at the husky black man’s twin, mustachioed, pompadoured faces on the cover — one shut-eyed and moaning, the other tight-lipped, eyebrows arched, as if to say, “Go on, and try me.”

I turned it over again.

“Mannish Boy.” “Gypsy Woman.” “You Can’t Lose What You Ain’t Never Had.”

I fished the crumpled ten-dollar bill out of my pocket, and handed it to the lady at the register.

“This it, honey?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Christmas money, probably. Maybe birthday. (It would’ve been my 11th.) Probably from Aunt Myrt, or maybe Uncle Bill.

There in the backseat, I bit off the corner of the cellophane, and tore off the rest. I cracked it open, pulled out the tape, and stuck it in the Walkman.

It crackled first. I remember the crackle. It sounded like smoke looks. Like barbecue smells. The guitar tickled my ear, the way that gnats and sweat conspire to do in the summertime. I think I blushed. Like I’d heard a dirty joke within earshot of my parents, or like somebody had called me a name. And that voice. It was kind of like the old black gospel music I’d heard. But far simpler. Cruder. Tougher. Sadder. Not pretty enough for the choir loft, I imagined. And there were all those grown-ups yelling and carrying on in the background. Drinking, surely. Cigarettes, too.

The language was familiar. The kinds of words and cadences that rolled out from between the lips of older folks, black and white both, around Birmingham. The kind that the old men in their perfectly creased ball caps and shirts, necks and noses burned deep red or deep black, would use at the Krispy Kreme or on the bleachers at the ballpark. But this man wasn’t cutting up and talking about football, or city politics, or fishing, or church, or carburetors, or old so-and-so, or whatever grown men were supposed to cut up and talk about. He was talking about crying, and being lonely, and drinking, and mean women, and drowning, and dying.

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Nice Playlist, Brah: Music To Which To Have A Nervous Breakdown To by Michael the Blind

Some of the songs are included for obvious reasons while others actually soundtracked events that could be described using the playlist title. Click to Stream:

1. “A Feeling” – Throwing Muses

Throwing Muses taught me not to be afraid to use the insanity stuff from my life in my songs. “A Feeling” has about it a twitchy, but sinewy sensibility that lends itself to near-obsession.
2. “On Doing An Evil Deed Blues” – John Fahey

The title of this John Fahey track says it all for me. “On Doing an Evil Deed Blues”. His playing on this early version is so half-broken sounding that you want to break down.

3. “Summertime Suidice #2″ – David Donedero

Summertime in the south is a time of stickiness and heat, and bug noises and more heat. That kind of weather makes a lot of folks feel slow and dreamy, but David Dondero‘s lilting number makes me think of how I’d just about lose my cool trying to think of a way to calm down in that nearly stifling atmosphere.

4. “Crystal Blue Persuasion” – Tommy James and The Shondells

In almost the same way, the utterly placid, groovy feel of this Tommy James song in particular makes me want to tear my hair out every time I hear it. It is this very quality of calmness about it that unsettles me so.

5. “Seasons in the Sun” – Terry Jacks

“Seasons in the Sun” might be the best song to throw a total foot-stomping, screaming-at-the-sky kind of “Losing It” party over, ever.

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My First Record: Veronica and Annie of Oh! My Blackbird

Veronica Kohl – “Aquarium” by Aqua

One of the first albums I can remember buying for myself, inspiring my first personal musical experience outside of my dad’s Beatles and ABBA collections, was Aqua’s “Aquarium.”  I think on this same trip to the record store I got the cassette of Chumbawumba’s “Tubthumping” but that might be a longer story to get into.

Like most youths alive in 1997, I had been exposed to the song “Barbie Girl” through the radio but upon purchasing the CD I became enthralled with nearly all of the tracks.  They were kind of psychedelic, nonsensical but had inescapably catchy melodies which I could eat a bunch of candy, dress up and jump around to.  In combination with the oddly sexual male/female vocal dynamic, the songs were just enough to entertain my easily distracted 8 year old brain. While pleasure in listening to this album now mostly comes from nostalgia, rather than an appreciation for the intricacy of the music itself, I still can’t help but bop around and sing along with the lyrics I somehow remember word for word.

Annie Sullivan- The Beatles “Blue Anthology”

I vividly remember my first record. It was the Beatles’ Blue album, the two-disc compilation CD spanning 1967-1970. I would like to preface this with a nod to the fact that the Beatles might be a cliche record/artist to pick, but in all honesty, it really was my first record!

There was a constant flow of music in my parents’ house; mostly classical, but with some pop/folk/and disco in heavy rotation( ABBA, Peter Paul & Mary, and Gilbert & Sullivan to name a few).

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My First Record: Jon Lindsay

*Disclaimer: Technically my first music purchase of any kind, as best I can recall, occurred at a yard sale in the town of Whitefish, Montana, where I lived with my immediate family when I was 8 years old. Sneakily procured for a hefty two dollars – while my parents were eying a waring blender – was DJ Jazzy Jeff and The Fresh Prince’s 1989 offering And in This Corner... But I am opting to write about the below selection, as it truly was the first LP record (vinyl) that came into my possession. 

When I first discovered my parents’ record collection at the age of 10, I knew nothing of The Beatles other than that they were an iconic rock band I needed to eventually encounter, solely based on the amount of times the band name circled into by orbit in the conversations of adults and in my limited exposure to television and news media. My family had just moved from the tiny, aforementioned Rocky Mountain Ski town, all the way across the country to Charlotte, North Carolina, when my Dad took a new job. We’d arrived in NC in September, and while upon helping unpack all the boxes and discovering the family stash of LP’s, I requested that my Christmas present be given to me early (a trick I’d go on to successfully employ in subsequent years), and that it be a double cassette deck stereo with a turntable I’d found in the Brendle’s catalog. Since I was a relentless little bastard, my parent’s (bless their hearts) pacified me and let me order what would be my first stereo (yes it had a “super bass boost” button – score).

Anyhow, Abby Road immediately blew my mind as I’d sit indian style on the floor and drop the needle. My evening routine soon became established: listen to side one while brushing my teeth and getting ready for bed, then flipping over to the mammoth, dark and sparkly side two right before hitting the lights and hopping in the sack.

“I Want You” (though the last track of side A) was the fist song to cast a spell on me. From the bluesy smooth vocal Lennon lays down to accompany his head melody riff note-for-note, to the phantasmic, ethereal outro – that always gave me chills and at times scared the hell out of me when the wind blew strange shadows of trees on my wall – this song made me an instant fan for life. The transitions were striking and I’d never heard pop music that could move so radically (though seamlessly) on a dime between wildly different sections. Pointless for me to offer any expository words on the B side of this record, as that’s all been done masterfully (and also poorly) enough many times. I’ll just say that what strikes me now as the most interesting in considering the impression this record made on me at that time, was the blend of vocals. I had no idea at this time in my life who the four members of the band were, and was oblivious to any academics on the band or its political dynamics and personalities. So I remember thinking only of how well the voices worked together, and what their tonal differences made me feel. Ringo and George had the most unique and distinctive vocal style and character, though the voices of John and Paul were difficult to discern since they could be so similar to my novice ear. I could tell that lead vocalists were changing all over the place, but I was never quite sure when and where. I just was aware it was happening and that it was amazing and brought such an ensemble effect to the cast of storytellers. That was so intriguing to me. Looking back now, I’m sure I wasn’t aware of it at the time, but it’s clear to me that I somehow understood side B was conceptual, literary and epic. I knew that the sequence was theatrical and dramatic, and gave me light (“Here Comes the Sun”, “Sun King”, “Carry That Weight”), and oblique, dense and sometimes terrifying numbers that seemed to be wreathed in themes I knew had to be related to death and pain and ideas I knew I’d yet to experience in life, but here these Brits were bringing me glassy blue shades of them (“Because”, “The End”).

So yeah, this record was a circus of sound and magic for me. It ingrained in me the sense that this is simply just how one (or one group) should make a record. Stand alone pop and rock songs that cut individually, but a grander scope of conception that rewards repeat listening with sequencing that reveals itself over time to be deeply thematic, with the sum giving an arresting aftertaste even deeper than the mighty strong parts.

Jon Lindsay is a singer, songwriter, multi-instrumentalist and producer with an impressive resume to show for his time so far on earth. After going solo in 2009 from prominent roles in several well-known bands (most notably Benji Hughes and The Young Sons), the Oregon-born, North Carolina raised artist released 2 critically acclaimed EP’s, a stunning début LP (2010′s “Escape From Plaza-Midwood”), AND a début LP “Rumormill” for his side band, The Catch Fire, all while playing upwards of 150 national shows between 2010 and 2011. Due this spring is Lindsay’s highly anticipated LP #2, entitled Summer Wilderness Program.

My First Record: Sam Densmore

The first record I remember buying was a 7″  – Men At Work / Down Under.  I was 9 or 10 years old and glued to the Top Forty Radio shows – both Dick Clark (RIP) and Casey Kasem.  “Down Under” was a huge hit. I just liked the way it sounded. Music was completely fascinating to me.

(EDITOR’s NOTE: Men at Work’s Greg Ham found dead)

Close on the timeline were Michael Jackson/Thriller, Def Leppard/Pyromania and  Loverboy/Loverboy.  I would get odd jobs around the neighborhood. Mow a lawn or split some wood for my mom. My brother-in-law had a big record collection too. He was 15 years older than me and had all the rock records that were popular at the time. So, I’d go over to their house, play some Atari and rock out with Ted Nugent, Led Zeppelin, Def Leppard, Pink Floyd and Loverboy records.  There was also a kid in the neighborhood who would get 11 cassettes for a penny from Columbia House. He’d sell ‘em to the neighborhood kids for  $1 each!

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Nice Playlist, Brah: Songs To Commit Suicide To by Jason Goldberg of Beak

I know people like happy or funny themes, especially when it comes to mix tapes or playlists or whatnot, but there have been some songs throughout my life that I thought, if I was gonna do it – I mean really do it…I would play one of these songs. Click to Stream:

 

1. “Avalanche” / Songs of Love and Hate / Leonard Cohen
Some guys just knew how to say it all in one song. Wrap up all the world’s bullshit with one fine poem and some string instruments. Done.

2. “On Ships of Gold” / Three / The Black Heart Procession
There’s something about a weak, distant voice through a megaphone on top of a howling wind musical saw, creaking floor and that nails on chalkboard rusty lantern sound; just creeps into your bones like the flu and there ain’t no remedies in the house and your feet have been hobbled.

3. “Chalice” / Black Light District / Coil
Angelic voices ascending and sweeping as only Coil knew how, with swirling Doppler vacuum noises being flushed down black holes. Profound audiophilic music that should have been illegal or demanded that you be over 21 to hear.

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