Whoo hoo! Kalamazoo!

Here I sit at the Kalamazoo Water Street Coffee Joint biding my time until the train leaves for Chicago while easing back into the wonder-filled world of wireless after escaping to rural America for a few days. Thanks for the comment by anonymous! Maybe it’s August, that month of moving and leaving, visiting and reconnecting, though hot as hell all the way around, that forces one to be vehemently self-critical to elicit any kind of blog response. Anon is has a good point, and to some folk I’ve used the following analogy to illustrate what “homemade” means in the context of record covers. I hope Anon doesn’t mind that I get philosophical as I think about what homemade means and take this analogy a little too far.

Pies, to an extent, are like record covers. And I’m not talking about pizza pies, though pizzas can be made in a factory by machines or entirely homemade. However, pies make a more apt metaphor for record covers because they are known for their artistry as well as content (deliciousness).

Pies can be commercially produced and they can be made from scratch. The interesting part is that just like record covers, there are a million steps between scratch and commercially produced in both instances. Homemade, in the world of pie-making, could mean anything from milking the cows for cream to turn into butter for the crust, milling the flour and picking the berries, etc. to buying ready-made Pillsbury crusts to house the canned cherries. In the same sense, homemade record covers can be made from bug juice drawn on paper made from your neighbor’s tree that you pulverized into pulp, or, from sharpie written on computer paper. The assemblage of commercially-produced materials is just as homemade as the stuff made “from scratch.” Hold on to your butts because I’m about to take this way too far and talk about punk pies.

I think a parallel can be made between the record cover and the pie in terms of the punk philosophy/aesthetic dichotomy as well. The most philosophically punk/DIY pie would be the one that is made from scratch: all ingredients were harvested, collected and processed by the baker, down to the lemons used to tart up those super sweet blueberries. Perhaps the most aesthetically punk pie would be the hobo pie: canned pie filling sandwiched by two pieces of buttered bread grilled between two iron plates baked in an open fire.

Anon also makes the distinction between “the way” things were made and “how [the artist] went about making them.” I hope I am correct in interpreting this as meaning that there is a difference between the method of assembling the pie and how the baker prepared the crust and filling. If not, please correct me. Is it about the process, then, as Anon writes, and not about the particular method or medium that makes something homemade? I'm glad that people are picking up on this distinction, however subtle it is. Keep the discourse coming! And vote! one day left!

Laters, gators,
James

Secret Project Robot, NYC, Princeton

Greetings from Eugene V. Deb's house, student co-operative in Ann Arbor, Michigan! For those of you who don't know Mr. Debs, he was the Socialist candidate around the turn of the century who ran for president from the can (not the shitter) four consecutive times. What did they pin him with? Being a Socialist, of course.

Thanks to those who yielded to my pleas to vote on whether specific mediums of record covers are handmade or not. Voting ends in 5 days! I know it seems common practice today, but don't rig the elections!

Thursday I met up with Erik and Rachel, the directors and founders of Secret Project Robot, a gallery space in Brooklyn. It was amazing to see these folk, because last summer they curated "Art of Music: a show of handmade record covers." Right up my alley, eh? Naturally, I've been entertaining the idea of throwing up records on walls to showcase this strange phenomenon. But how to organize them? Any which way would certainly be interesting: chronologically to show how they've changed through time, from shoddy xeroxes (out of necessity) to intensive embroidery (for fetish's sake); geographically to show how certain artists and musicians have direct influence on each other, cultivating a local flavor; by medium, grouping xeroxes with xeroxes and kits with kits; by label; by genre; by artist; and by type (i.e. CD, cassette, 7", 12" other odd sizes). Erik and Rachel, on the other hand, organized the records by collector. Genius!

Rather than soliciting bands, artists, collectors and designers for material, a process that would certainly be exhausting, they solicited their own collections and others'. As keen readers are certainly aware of, collectors can be fetishists as well as hubs for handmade covers. As a hub, they metaphysically represent certain social and artistic circles; as a fetishist they represent perhaps an affinity for a certain aesthetic. Layers, Dear God!

Here's another interesting thing these two pioneers touched on: the devaluing of art brought on by the existence of handmade records. Several people, including Rachel and Erik, mentioned that band members in Brooklyn frequently double as artists, writers, filmmakers and designers. Covers done by band members/artists whose prints sell for thousands of dollars in Chelsea sell for normal record prices. Whoa. Is their record cover not just another one of their prints? As soon as you put a piece of vinyl in it, the value plummets! The parasitic record sucks the value from the art within $10-15 of its life.

Are you with me? Good. The issue of value goes deeper. The two curators agreed with me that usually there isn't much money, if at all, for bands to make on their homemade covers. As mainstream record labels continually co-opt aesthetics and sounds from the folk, they will never release three million hand screen-printed Nickelback records because they wont be able to make any money off it. I'm certainly of the opinion that blogs are not the place to talk trash and knock people, but get real, Chad Kroeger. ooops. By gosh, my delete key ain't workin'–I'll be damned!

Good stuff, good stuff. As for the Princeton Record Exchange, the "largest record store in the East," it was a bust for homemade stuff. There were a few things there, like 2 Avant Garde Jazz records, one of which was part of an edition of record covers made in hotel rooms across the world by Steely Dan's trumpet player. See for yourself–I threw them up on the "more awesome records" link in the sidebar. Check out the Academy Records collection, as there were a few cool ones from the hip part of Brooklyn.

I'm off to my grandparents' house tomorrow for a few days, and I'll be lucky if I have a cell phone signal let alone inter-web. I still have a few things to blog about, so this is not the end, though I'll be home soon. I've been hoarding ideas for mass-produced homemade record covers, so I may post some freebies for those interested in making your own.

Glad to be back up North,
James

P.S. in the words of Diddy, (he's just Diddy now, right?) Vote or Die!

Homemade or Not?

So hold the phone for a second. What exactly does this "researcher" mean by homemade? How does he get to choose what's homemade and what's not? After all, he's taking the photos of records, and supposedly, only the records he photographs are homemade. What if he misses something, or he deliberately leaves something out? He's never really gone into the Latin or Traditional Eastern European Polka sections in every store. What if there's a whole subculture of Polka nerds who feel like a limited edition of 300 homemade album covers made out of their late grandma's skirts would serve as the perfect visual complement to the auditory waltz?

Perhaps his methodology is flawed. Maybe he's lazy. There are homemade Avant Garde jazz records out there in the Jazz sections of record stores, believe it or not, but he doesn't talk about those. Why doesn't he comb through those cases of records like he does with the experimental and punk sections? He's probably missing some crucial local free jazz scene that is on the brink of blowing everyone's mind.

And what's with being selective about what records he actually trades for or –God forbid– purchases, and sends to people for his Homemade Album Art Historical Preservation Society, a mouthful which he refuses to turn into a a bite-size acronym? Is he turning into a fetishist himself? Maybe he has a set of his own aesthetics that he loves to entertain with scantily clad record jackets.

But really, let's not forget about this first question: what does the researcher mean by homemade? It really seems as though the homemade has to be something that's mass-produced, according to his undefined definition. But what of those DJ "white labels" (that usually just consist of putting a label on the vinyl or writing on it in sharpie), bootlegs and inkjet printed covers? So many of those "Punk" records he describes embody the punk aesthetic, but isn't inkjet printer art, done by some dude who recorded onto his laptop, burned CDs and printed the covers done in Microsoft Paint on his Canon 5200, embodying the punk philosophy the most? Is THAT homemade? Why aren't those covers, deserving a medal signed by Iggy Pop, featured in the Record of the Day sidebar?

Here's what we'll do in light of the researcher's pathetic attempts to include his readers: scrap that Record of the Day crap for a day and take a poll. It's a little sketchy, (but not methodologically sketchy like political polls are) since the blog's "gadgets" don't allow true/false yes/no answers, so you'll have to answer to each of the four categories. He's good with math–he'll figure out what the stats mean later. For now, do the poll and we'll find out what the rest of us think.

NYC, Babies!

I've finally made it to the city of infinite loonihood. Here's where I'm supposed to say something like, "well, not all of New York is like Manhattan," but last summer I discovered the insanity of living in a place like this, and I continue to stand by my opinion: you have to be bat-shit-crazy to revel in this kind of cool and efficient environment. Don't get me wrong–I don't wish to fall into "the city is evil" trap nor consign "bat-shit-crazy" to the Nike Store of qualifiers–this place fills me with wonder and awe at its inhabitants.

With that said, I'm going to briefly summarize some finding from 6 record stores yesterday. Well, more like three, because one had disappeared off the face of the earth completely, and two were closed. So I went to three and found some awesome stuff. It's interesting that stores don't have a "punk/indie/hardcore" section like most Westcoast and Southern cities do–it's all "indy" or "70s/80s/90s Rock." Found some cool looking experimental/noise stuff and a hand-collaged album cover coated in Mod-Podge. Effing sweet.

But seriously: in the Village there are record stores every two blocks. I have at least a dozen to go to in Manhattan and another God-knows-how-many in Brooklyn. We'll see about those other boroughs.

On tap: talking with Secret Project Robot folks, a day trip to the Princeton Record Exchange (boasting 150,000 volumes), a collector, and more record stores. There's plenty more blog to suck down in the next week, so don't go filling up those heads of yours with other lite bloggical nonsense.

I posted some findings last night. They're under "more awesome record covers" in the Tasty Links sidebar, as always.

Stay cool, daddies
James

Atlanta

One of the reasons for going to Atlanta was to test one of my many hypotheses. Although I didn't get to test it fully as I had other business to attend to in this green Georgian city, (and by 'green' I don't mean the buzzword to get folks to become environmentally conscious or hybridize their cars and washing machines–on the contrary, I mean it has a lot of trees) I got a whiff of some stale creative air.

Here's my hypothesis: Speaking broadly, if DIY Punks, striving for an "underground" sound and scene make homemade covers that demonstrate a network of people involved in the process, would it follow that Hip Hop artists would produce a similar thing, i.e. homemade record covers? Since I'm not involved with that scene, I figured that Atlanta would be a good place to start, as it's known as a mecca for that kind of music.

Here's what a cursory investigation found out: (very cursory, mind you, but I thought I would share some observations anyway)
The major Atlanta Hip Hop record store, Ear Wax, shut down recently. A record store closing is never a good indicator of a lively scene to begin with. After going to a few stores, I found a some cool homemade covers; most of it found in the local, indie and punk sections and most of it from Athens, Georgia, I might add.

Then I went to Moods Music, specializing in Acid Jazz and Soul and asked the attendant, Dave (who has been a working DJ for the last 12 years) if the store had any homemade items. He pointed me to a cover of a local singer, Stacy Epps, who, for a promotional CD pasted a commercially printed cover on a brown card stock CD case. It was the closest thing to anything homemade, and Dave lamented the sorry state of music and creativity in the homemade realm of Soul and Hip Hop. He said that everyone was just trying to make a quick buck off their material and didn't have time to do anything super creative and involved. Rachel, my couchsurfing host and native Atlantan, commented on my findings and Dave's opinions, saying that many artists are trying really hard to "make it" in Atlanta, contrasting the "anti-marketing marketing" Mike Wisti spoke of last fall. Dave also commented on digital music on iPods and cell phones making it possible for people to listen to music and just go about their business. No longer is listening to music and reading the liner notes an activity by itself–something for your soul, he said.

Like I said, this was a cursory investigation, but a much needed one nevertheless. I may need some time to mull it over, but I feel some good follow-ups are necessary–just like how I felt after the first time I visited a record store with the intent to photograph records in Minneapolis last fall, which is to say a barrage of questions and curiosities have assaulted my brain! You know, its like when you go to Wikipedia for an informational interview on "UFOs" and you to leave its cyberspace office with a desire to track down and interview some folks who claim to have had extraterrestrial encounters.

Anyway, I uploaded some more photos from Atlanta and got into Baltimore this morning to witness the decked-out folk going to the Anime Convention. I would have attended the Masquerade Ball, but registration is at least $100, so "balls." There's always the Visionary Art Museum! I asked some costumed Anime-heads to pose for some photos, so check out the Picasa link!

Peaces,
James

9.0 or Higher On My Weird-Shit-O-Meter Summary

I apologize for no postings in the last week; it's been too hot to do a damn thing. My brief visit to New Orleans was met with pants that never quite dried out and wondering when I'll get to the next air-conditioned building like a Siberian wondering when the electricity will come on again. I visited a few record stores there–the first was a classic stoner shop that made me wonder, given the stacks of used Lindsey Lohan CDs (she made a record?), tattered posters and overpriced bongs, how they made rent. Maybe they sell a lot of proud "I got Bourbon-Faced on Shit Street!" shirts. Or weed. Whichever. I think there was one homemade jacket there. Evidently forgettable, though. The second was the Record Shack, and had a few cool items. Sorry to sound lackluster, but after seeing thousands of homemade covers, I don't really feel like talking about just the above average ones today–therefore, to break up the monotony, I will finally write the blog I've been dying to write–the exotic tales, the spectacular far-out ideas, the stuff that sort-of fits with what I'm doing, but kind of doesn't; the legendary weird shit of homemade covers. So here goes…

• Let's start with elaborating on that enigmatic band I foreshadowed in "record of the day," Caroliner Rainbow Bluembeigh Treason of the Abyss. Try finding anything about them online. The first link that Google gives is, "Help me understand Caroliner Rainbow." Don't click on it–it doesn't really help. Their MySpace page is nearly as incomprehensible, but I also hear their shows consist of sensory overload, like their album covers, a collage and barrage of every technique and material out there (hand coloring xerox, screenprinting) and every possible goodie they could stuff into a record sleeve (Thriller liner notes, leis, SF Metro passes, old newsprint). When I ask record store clerks if they have any handmade records, they always point me toward the new Caroliner Rainbow albums if they have them. They always seem to have "just got them in, and they sell like hotcakes." Lori says they're just a bunch of vegan folks in a commune in the Bay Area who grow their own veggies. Nat from Berkeley and Chris from Austin basically say their live shows rule.

Naturally, I emailed them to get in touch, and a got a half-cryptic response from the cryptically named "Grand Gripplea" simply telling me to check out Art Gnuvo and the Record Exchange. So I did. And tested it on my Weird Shit O-Meter– lo and behold, it checks out for today's post!

• The Amazing Kornyfone Record Label is one example of a bootlegger's label. These guys got a hold of the mother stampers and had a strong enough rapport with the ladies at the pressing plant that they could produce illegal bootlegs of The Beatles, Jimi Hendrix and Frank Zappa to name a few. I haven't been able to find out if the covers were homemade, but the network of people involved in the production seems to be a lot like the network I outlines a few weeks ago, so maybe the covers were done by hand as well.

So here's the story: Ken and Dub created the bootleg label, TMOQ, Trade Mark of Quality in the early 70s. Dub fired Ken a few years later, and in the plagiaristic tradition of bootleggers, Ken named his label, Trade Mark of Quality. Ken had to lay low while the FBI was after him, but then eventually started the Amazing Kornyfone Record Label.

• Speaking of bootlegs, whenever the old-timer guys at record stores show me their collection of homemade covers, they usually pull out some Doors bootleg with sharpie indicating the date and place of recording on it. These are quite possibly the most boring covers ever, but it would be interesting to find out how these guys got vinyl pressed. Darien says that sometimes he'll cut individual records for DJs, so maybe the bootleggers have a connection at a lathe/mastering facility.

• DJs used to use their vinyl as business cards, so to speak for clubs they wanted to spin at. I've seen a few of these, and they usually consist of a black or white commercially produced sleeve with a phone number glued to them. They end up in the used "Dance/Club/Electronic" section of record stores. Darien said DJs produced these with haste during the rave/warehouse party days, but now CDs are easier, faster and cheaper to produce.

• Mix tapes/CDs. Since these are generally not mass-produced, they aren't of much help to me, but they're cool, right? And fun to make for your significant other. If you really want to know more, go get a book on them. Thurston Moore edited "Mix Tape." It's pretty cool.

• I found a homemade cover last fall in Ann Arbor MI that struck me. It's called, "Lipa Kodi Ya City Council" on the Mississippi Records label out of Portland Oregon. The music on it was recorded in the early 70s and features stuff from all over Africa. I bet there's crazy story behind that one–and people on the web seem to really like it.

• Elizabeth in Austin showed me a record in which the band didn't include their own music in it! They just put random 45s in the sleeve. Funny.

• Someone told me about a record made in which the unpainted sleeves were placed on the floor of the venue and it was the audience's responsibility to make sure no cover left unpainted. What a lazy band.

• It is generally agreed upon that the "Most 'Metal' homemade cover ever would be made with human flesh." No one has made one yet, so the throne for the most 'Metal' Metal band still sits unoccupied.

• Limited edition lathe cuts. Lathe cut records, as opposed to pressed vinyl, are fragile and can only be played a few dozen times before they completely wear out. Therefore, editions of lathe cut records are extremely valuable and rare. They must be cut in real time, and the special machine for cutting more than one at a time is quite rare. A guy in Australia does lathe cuts and can only be reached my snail mail. Turn-around time is comparable to getting your Italian bicycle sent back to the factory and replaced–or a long time. A guy in Olympia Washington, Peter King, sets up subscription services in which twenty bands (or however many he wants) to contribute a song or two, and over the course of a few years, you and 19 other people are incrementally sent the full edition. Usually the covers are homemade by the artists, too. They fetch a pretty penny on ebay, so look out for those subscriptions!

• Flickr! Lori told me to browse flickr for homemade covers. DUH! And holy Lennon, I stumbled upon the mother of obsessive album covers: Sgt. Peggy's Lonely Hearts Club Band, a beaded mosaic of the classic album cover. A must see.

• Mingering Mike. Here's what his website has to say: "Between 1968 and 1977 Mingering Mike recorded over fifty albums, managed thirty-five of his own record labels, and produced, directed and starred in nine of his own motion pictures. In 1972 alone he released fifteen LPs and over twenty singles, and his traveling revue played for sold out crowds the world over.

How is it that such a prolific musician has gone under the radar for the more than thirty years? The answer is that all took place in Mike's imagination, and in the vast collection of fake cardboard records and acapella home recordings that he made for himself as a teenager in Washington, D.C. in the late 1960s."

I'm sure there are more things to talk about here, and If you, dear reader, have stories to share, please do!

With Southern love,
James