WARNING: Language and themes will be offensive and inappropriate for some readers and gratuitous for all others!
Part 3 of 4: Reserving records at The Dickery: Emerson, Lake and Palmer, King Crimson, Kraftwerk, Nilsson and that familiar scent in the black light poster room!
By Henry B. Rosenbush
The Obsessive Collector
There is a risk of becoming platitudinous when reminiscing about the profound which may in fact be the ordinary. When we go into a movie theater the EXIT signs are clearly visible designating where the audience must leave in the event of an emergency. The color red is a warning but unlike a traffic light is means go rather than stop. While the Exit can be used to leave a particularly odious motion picture it usually takes a fire or calamity to get people out of their seats before the end credit scroll.
Usually, when the final production logo and MPAA Rating is flashed unto the screen I am the only patron left in the theater anyway.
The tangled cobweb of the world wide has its own exit signs that are practically invisible; computers are equipped with their own designations: esc, del and x, which is red, and the all powerful x, located in the upper right quadrant of the page, allowing readers absolute control to immediately exit the ether without an emergency unless whatever they are reading, viewing or hearing overloads their level of risibility and they wish to avoid brain seizures.
Music has its own exit; radio and television can be turned off as easily as on or changed to a different channel. What makes the old fashioned record players of the seventies a wholly different technological marvel was that if you didn’t want to listen any longer you had to get up off your ass, leaving a comfortable chair, sofa or bed and walk to the turntable to end the album eject the needle from the LP.
No one today would dare walk across a room to eject a cassette or 8-Track tape from the deck and certainly not take additional time to remove the format and return it to its sleeve and cover, in the case of albums, or plastic container if it be a compact disc. There was a time, long gone now, when there was as much exhilaration in the removal of shrink-wrapping and the unmistakable aroma of a fresh pressing; the whiff of the vinyl itself coupled with the printing ink on pictures so new you’d think it was completed minutes before your purchase.
Harry Nilsson, was one of dozens of musical talents who provided me with endless hours of enjoyment and reminiscent of Pink Floyd, Three Dog Night, Grand Funk, Hot Tuna, Wishbone King Crimson and Emerson, Lake and Palmer – naming only a few – was one of those artists who always excited me with a new release.