Why do all the cool threads start when I’m in the middle of interviewing a job candidate for an hour and a half?
1980, in the small record section of Consumers’ Supermarket on College Avenue in Fayetteville, Arkansas. Picked up The Clash’s London Calling. About the same time, I caught Joe “King” Carrasco and the Crowns on a late night rebroadcast of “Austin City Limits”. They only had the last twenty minutes (Doug Sahm and a reconstituted Sir Douglas Quintet had the first forty), but I was hooked.
Pretty soon, I was reading Trouser Press religiously, haunting the aisles of the one decent new/used record store in Fayetteville (Record Exchange on Dickson Street), and scorning the Loverboy/Skynyrd/Styx-loving masses. I still remember the thrill when I finally found a copy (even if it was on eight-track) of the original Modern Lovers album). I was lucky that such a small town had one commercial radio station with a no-disco, nearly-anything-else-goes format, where you’d occasionally (late at night particularly) hear something interesting (e.g., “Washington Bullets” from the Clash’s Sandinista!).
Before that, I was listening to all the usual late 70s stuff, with a healthy dose of Beatles, Stones, Who, etc. thrown in courtesy of some of my friends’ older siblings’ collections. The one thing I listened to then that I still haven’t grown tired of is The Band.
You can almost cut and paste the third paragraph of dustMagnate’s post here (except the part about the Ramones playing a dance at his college) – there’re a few artists on his list I never got into, and a few that don’t show up on his that I did (the Undertones, the Buzzcocks, the whole Nick Lowe/Graham Parker/Brinsley Schwarz/Ian Gomm/Ducks Deluxe/Motors nexus, The Rezillos, Big Star), but we seem to have had quite similar tastes. For a long while, I had huge gaps in my knowledge, since (living in Arkansas) I had to rely on cut-out bins and mail order for many of the things I wanted to buy.
Picked up the “Radio Free Europe” single right about the time I started college on the basis of the review in Trouser Press, and Murmur and Chronic Town became staples of my weekly college radio show (“The Only Show that Matters”, Friday night 11:30 until whenever I decided to shut down the transmitter, September 1982-March 1986), along with Translator, Swimming Pool Qs, Love Tractor, Squeeze, Dream Syndicate, Three O’Clock, Rain Parade, und so weiter.
Even as I spun out those threads, I began to pick up others that had dropped. Living in small Arkansas towns, I heard lots of late 60s and early 70s country as a child, then grew contemptuous of it in my teen years. I got back into older country music through Bob Wills and Hank Williams while in college (I used to love my musically defensible segues from Bob Wills to Bob Marley on my show). I had a lot of fun with things like that: juxtaposing disparate musical styles with some element in common (accents on the 2 and 4, in the case of western swing and reggae and norteño).
I regret that I never took the few opportunities to be exposed to jazz and classical music in any significant way until I was older. They’re almost like languages learned as an adult for me: I can appreciate them, but I’ll probably never feel at home in them. I’m more comfortable with blues, since one of my closest high school/college friends was blues devotee and we spent a lot of time together listening to his collection; I think Hound Dog Taylor was about the only artist I really discovered on my own in that genre.