I Wandered Through My Darkness....

and brought up about twenty more albums. Some almost crumbling to dust and some, protected in plastic. Safe. Warm. A few, free from disease. A few more, infected by the hands of my child. Scratched and skipping right at the peak of perfection. I threw on a couple here and there and with wandering eyes and a little bit of ADD, I made my way to Humble Pie's "Eat It."
Note: ADD- Attention Deficit Discography- it pulls the thought process into many directions filling your head with a merry band of Cybils. Too much music thrown in at once. A bunch of sprawled out albums is like picking out tile, leaving you vulnerable. End of note.
Today "Eat It" conquers and a quick "be careful with that needle, Amy" voice helps me to compose myself, put it on dainty, and listen. Here comes the boogie. Oh it comes alright. When slipping Humble Pie on, one does not listen. One transcends to a time and place one probably has never been.
What do I remember about this album? Besides three slices of heaven and one slice of live, it makes me think of my broken, inexcusable, record player. (Here comes the scratched record sound and a pause.) What? I just ruined a moment with negativity. I will say it again. I had a lousy ass record player which somehow managed to bleed my soul dry but that 5 dollar thrift store hunk of junk managed to keep Steve Marriott alive. Nothing could dim the light of Marriott. That man could make Fisher Price tolerable and so I spun. I spun until it hurt. The sounds of "Drugstore Cowboy," "Black Coffee," "Up Our Sleeve," and the hauntingly beautiful "Oh Bella (All That Her's)" raised my subconscious, broke the barrier, and I awoke.
Sometimes goodies are left behind in an album sleeve. A cool poster still in tact, notes, money perhaps, even food. In this case, three pieces of hot pink paper with scribbles in black ink and a drawing of what appears to be the start of a snowman with a detailed top hat. The word "City Slicker" is written near the snowman and "Jelly, Jelly, Jelly." These are probably just random thoughts from the previous owner who possibly felt inspired to doodle at the moment of musical climax. What's even more precious are the names in various graffitied positions left for me to take notice. Oh if records could talk. This post is for you, Kip and Sue.