Nice piece.

I stripped out a few hundred records a few years ago and just put them in black bags to be collected for some reason. I had always planned to sell records when I didn't 'need' them anymore but when the time came I just chucked them away.

Not sure what that means, I'll have to ask my counsellor...

On house music dating badly, I have found when playing Peel tapes these days how odd it is that some tracks still sound great and others sound terribly dated even though they were top of the form in 1989 or whenever. And this doesn't seem to follow any rhyme or reason. Some dance tracks still sound good and some noise tracks still do too. But other tracks from both genres now sound two-dimensional and dull. The thing is that it was not predictable back in the day which tracks would date and which wouldn't.

Regardless John still sounds great.

---

From: troche@...
Reply-To: peel@yahoogroups.com
To: peel@yahoogroups.com
Subject: [peel] Who here can relate??
Date: Tue, 14 Nov 2006 09:30:07 -0500 (GMT-05:00)

http://arts.guardian.co.uk/features/story/0,,1927568,00.html

In the vinyl analysis
Music fans over the age of 30 will have amassed a sizable record
collection over the years, which they rarely play. Is it time to put
away childish things?

By Jacques Peretti
The Guardian

Saturday October 21, 2006

Ive done it. I have done it. I cant actually believe Ive done it,
but I have (done it). And now Im looking at the floor - at where
everything I loved and cherished and held dear to my cold heart used to
be - and I cant help thinking it looks wrong. Yesterday, the entire
floor space of my dusty attic was covered in records: 30,000 lumps of
plastic warping gently in the autumn sun. Records called things like
Trance Orgasm Express and Black Magic Horn by long-forgotten people with
names such as DJ Spanky; Mushroom Mike and Melting Dolphins (featuring
the vocal talents of Janeen).

There they stood, like some frightening installation of everything
frightening and underground from the 1990s, a few embarrassing, a few
rare, believe it or not, and worth an absolute fortune, but the vast
majority (all of them basically, bar an armful), 1990s house music in
all its pompous glory: when dance music went all Rick Wakeman and prog
rock, taking itself so seriously, it disappeared up its own
linen-trousered backside. The King (Crimson) of this prog house shit was
someone called Sasha. Every Sasha record was identical: thered be a
blurry photo on the cover of a moody Sasha on a cliff-top, looking out
across the sea to some far-away destination (a place called Meaning).
The record would last 45 minutes, with a 25-minute intro of doomy synth
washes. This would be followed by a multiple orgasm of drum-rolls and
then some woman (Janeen probably) wailing Take Me Higher, Let Me Be Your
Fantasy, Come On My Face or some such charming refrain over the top ...

Im trying to damn these records to sound modern and with it but truth
is I have great affection for this rubbish - it sounds so anachronistic
now, its laughable. But at the time, it all made sense and it was rock
and guitars, not dance music, that seemed out of date. I remember Bill
Drummond of the KLF saying that in the future, there will be no more
need for to live music because well have enough samples to last
forever. Oh well. Theres wrong and theres Ive seen the future and its
shaped like a rave saucer. Im sitting in the living room under strict
instructions from the missus to be brutal when it comes to choosing what
to keep when sorting my choons.

I started out in front of the telly taking them a hundred at a time,
putting this Lil Louis French Kiss in the KEEP pile, Phutures Acid
Trax in the KEEP pile, Josh Winks Higher State Of Consciousness, hmmmm,
in the KEEP pile. This is going well, this sorting out. It takes me only
a few minutes to get through a hundred records. How did that go? the
wife asks. I have, lets see, ooh, maybe,

96, 97, yup, about, er, 100 in the KEEP pile.

Right. And how many in the chuck pile?

In the CHUCK pile? Hmmm ... lets see. That would be, er, none.

Turns out I was keeping not just the eBay-able records, but the
tackiest, cheesiest abominations ever committed to plastic: the rave
version of Jump by Van Halen, some speed barrage thing that sampled the
Casualty title music with bits of Knight Rider thrown in. I even have a
happy hardcore remix of the theme to Bob The Builder. What the fuck are
you keeping this for? And why did you ever buy it in the first place?
Its good! I reply defensively. Thats rare that. Theres an Erick
Morillo dub on the back with no vocals and that is awesome. My wife
looks at me with pity.

I need a different strategy. I need to chuck the lot. I could put it all
on eBay I suppose, but I think my records are better than that. I see
myself as some sort of house music curator, like a rave dad version of
Charles Saatchi, keen to donate my collection to a deserving museum or
library. What the hell are you talking about? my wife says. Take them
to Oxfam. So off I go. Im weirdly hyped up as I head off to Oxfam in
Dalston - a veritable Aladdins superstore of mauled childrens toys and
dead peoples cardigans.

Hi, I say brightly. Ive got about 30, 000 records I need to get rid
of. The quiet man at the counter looks at me. OK, he replies. Where
are they? I take him and four colleagues to the back of the car. I open
the boot, half-thinking I should have set up some Raiders Of the Last
Ark lightshow to go with the reveal moment.

Wow! They are not disappointed. Over the next three hours, we ship the
vinyl weight equivalent of nine elephants from my house to Oxfam.

Theres some good stuff in here one of the guys says to me when were
nearly finished. And some not so good stuff (holding up a copy of
Saturday Night by Whigfield (the Brothers In Rhythm remix). That is a
credible tune! I shout. The Brothers In Rhythm remix! Its ace! Ask
anyone!! Not a patch on this surely he says, taunting me with a Paul
Oakenfold cash-in remix of The Lighthouse Family. I was given that! I
never bought it ... I never ... bought it (my words petering out).

Or this. Nigel Benns rapping attempt to break into the pop business.
You bought that?! I do not have words. Or this Blue Pearls Naked In
The Rain. I leave, without giving my name.

Ive been here before. When I was 16, I sold all my records (about 5,000
that time) in order to pay to travel round Europe (fucking rubbish
Europe, shouldnt have bothered). I got about 100 quid from some morose
gent in a Cure T-shirt at Record & Tape Exchange. The irony is that all
those records I bought when 13, 14, 15 - avant garde mid-1980s indie
guitar thrash noise - would be worth a serious amount of money today.
They sound like The Killers, whereas house music just sounds weird and
gone. Like it never happened.

Anyway, I have a plan - now that Im feeling the loss. Im thinking of
buying the records back - popping in and paying 50p a time. It makes
sense. Its worth it. Join me if you like - Ill be the one clutching
The Prodigys Out Of Space and fighting off old people trying to get to
the Best Of Barbara Dickson.