Electronic Thoughts
This summer in LA I went to the huge, famous Amoeba Records. While I was aware of the place, which is often mentioned in various media by people whose tastes I respect, I didn't have plans to go because I've pretty much entirely given up buying non-digital music. Aside from a very select few albums, most of which I buy at shows (music and comedy), I frequent itunes, and, yes, keep Pirate Bay's advertisers in the business of pumping out sci-fi-porn banners. But when I went to the Arclight Cinema, which was on my list of must-dos, I saw Amoeba down the street and decided to go in. The experience basically made me remember what it was like to shop in actual record stores. I've never been an audiophile to the degree that I have a problem with digital music, and often roll my eyes at people who wax poetic about the Simple Things lost to our ADHD-esque online generation. However, clicking through Amoeba's used CDs with all the hipsters (and Jenny Lewis!) made me reverse a few of those rolls. I forgot how fun it is to browse aimlessly, listen to whatever the hipper-than-thou employees have on the stereo, shuffle by strangers awkwardly. And I'm not just saying this because I came across a beautiful limited-edition David Cross album with a black velvet cover. There was a Whole Thing: the timing was good - since the beginning of my trip I had been catching up on episodes of Tom Scharpling's radio show/podcast, The Best Show on WFMU. In a addition to being a whip-smart, hilarious, addictive host and comedy writer, Scharpling is something of a music expert. Witnessing him and Jon Wurster (Scharpling's comedy partner, fellow music geek and drummer of The Mountain Goats and Superchunk) trade pieces of rock n roll trivia is like...witnessing two people enjoy themselves and connect with each other by discussing things they both know a lot about. I think that analogy is spot-on. That's why I majored in English, folks. Anywho. I had been listening to hours and hours of Scharpling's "music, mirth and mayhem," and had compiled a mental list of Tom's Top Bands for me to check out, ostensibly in the interest of adding to my library and developing my taste, and probably mostly because I've got that thing where I feel very close to the people in my headphones (Scharpling in particular - I truly adore him) and want to fool myself into thinking we could be friends based on similar interests. We really could, guys. So I wandered the Amoeba aisles, picking up cheap used copies of albums by Superchunk, Unrest, Big Star, and Ted Leo, all based on stuff Tom plays on the show. Then I discovered their huge comedy section, and had to come back the next day to tackle it. I found so much great stuff, including a super cheap vinyl copy of a Tracey Ullmann album I listened to non-stop as a really young kid - one of my first forays into comedy, I guess. Coincidentally enough, I came across a very, very cheap copy of "The Art of the Slap," an album of recorded conversations between Scharpling and Wurster (the latter as various Best Show characters). Scharpling and Wurster are hilarious in these calls, and despite already owning the album, I bought it with the intention of gifting it- I always like to force my interests on my friends on their special days. So, this was a special little stack - both replete with quality goods and meaningful based on my LA soundtrack. And then. A couple days after I got home I got around to unpacking my haul and opened up the Scharpling and Wurster album, only to discover:
Why, could this 'Paul' be the one and only Paul F. Tompkins, good friend of Tom Scharpling and The Best Show, not to mention comedic legend? One of my own all-time favourite comics? He couldn't possibly have sold a gift from a beloved friend! Hey Twitter, can you help solve this conundrum? I said:
Then Tom (@scharpling) said:
After I confirmed the CD was purchased in LA, Paul (@pftompkins) said:
A few other notable friends of The Best Show chimed in as well, including Strangers with Candy funnywoman (and wife of Andy Richter) Sarah Thyre and comedy director (and husband of Jen Kirkman) Neil Mahoney, but I'm too lazy to find those tweets - they were along the lines of 'haha, PFT is busted! Damn, girl! Let's be friends!' (as far as I remember.) Even Tom's wife, the incomparable DJ Terre T chimed in:
So, I guess Tom ultimately gave Paul two copies of the disc, one of which had this note attached, Paul had a financially dark day (or watched one too many episodes of Hoarders - been there), and one of the discs ended up at Amoeba, and then in my hands. I won't lie - it was extremely cool to have a little flurry of e-activity involving my heroes also involve me in any way at all. But that's not my point here. My point is that this little discovery of treasure was something so totally unique to record-store shopping that the end result is inextricable intertwined with the experience of it - every time I pass the stack of albums still on my desk (waiting to be ripped into itunes, admittedly), I'm transported back to not just shopping in Amoeba's aisles, but the whole LA trip. It's an object completely tied to the experience of obtaining it, associated with a location, an engagement with the world. I'm no Roger Ebert (his tweets about the tragic advancement of e-readers made me unfollow him - and this from someone with a serious used book-buying problem/devotion), but the whole thing made me think about shopping trips of days gone by that have disappeared from my life due to my digital awakening. I remember very clearly going into Encore at least once a week in high school, checking the Tori Amos imports and singles first thing, of course, and then browsing for incredibly long periods of time. Looking at the boys looking at the music.
I thought about this stuff again when I heard that Blockbuster declared bankruptcy. It's not that I'll miss THE MAN renting me videos, but it is representative of another entertainment-related shift: while I still frequent Queen Video/Film Buff (even though I pretty much hate the staff at both these places - give me fake Blockbuster corporate cheer over open hipster disgust and misogyny any day) fairly often for TV-on-DVD needs, this happens far less often than it used to, and I almost never rent movies anymore. I can watch them much more conveniently and cheaply in other ways. But, man...I remember going to rental places on a weekly basis, at least. Eftyhia and I used to wander around these places choosing movies every weekend from childhood to adulthood, her magnetically drawn to new arrivals back in the day, me to goofball older stuff, both of us opposed to romantic comedies (always, though many snuck in). I remember lots of browsing with certain boys as well, laughing at various odd titles and cover art, eating the stale free popcorn at Jumbo Video. The enjoyable challenge that is finding a movie Ellie and I agree on. There was also a lot of browsing alone, especially towards the end of my time in KW, sometimes just because I felt like a movie, sometimes because I felt like I needed a movie to save me. I never, ever thought I'd feel sentimental about something so commonplace and insignificant as wandering amongst the plastic, but it's another instance of experience and activity extracted from consumption. It seems particularly meaningful in this period of relative isolation I feel like I'm in. Physically social experiences are harder and harder to come by (in my leisure time - my days are social by definition). However, at the same time - I'm not complaining. Every day I'm pretty amazed by what the electronic world offers me. So, in conclusion, I take back everything. JK. In conclusion, we live in a confusing, awesome time. There's another example of my english degree at work. "Since the dawn of mankind..."
Dudes, seriously, check out the world of Tom Scharpling. Go here: http://www.scharplingandwurster.com.
Why, could this 'Paul' be the one and only Paul F. Tompkins, good friend of Tom Scharpling and The Best Show, not to mention comedic legend? One of my own all-time favourite comics? He couldn't possibly have sold a gift from a beloved friend! Hey Twitter, can you help solve this conundrum? I said:
Then Tom (@scharpling) said:
After I confirmed the CD was purchased in LA, Paul (@pftompkins) said:
A few other notable friends of The Best Show chimed in as well, including Strangers with Candy funnywoman (and wife of Andy Richter) Sarah Thyre and comedy director (and husband of Jen Kirkman) Neil Mahoney, but I'm too lazy to find those tweets - they were along the lines of 'haha, PFT is busted! Damn, girl! Let's be friends!' (as far as I remember.) Even Tom's wife, the incomparable DJ Terre T chimed in:
So, I guess Tom ultimately gave Paul two copies of the disc, one of which had this note attached, Paul had a financially dark day (or watched one too many episodes of Hoarders - been there), and one of the discs ended up at Amoeba, and then in my hands. I won't lie - it was extremely cool to have a little flurry of e-activity involving my heroes also involve me in any way at all. But that's not my point here. My point is that this little discovery of treasure was something so totally unique to record-store shopping that the end result is inextricable intertwined with the experience of it - every time I pass the stack of albums still on my desk (waiting to be ripped into itunes, admittedly), I'm transported back to not just shopping in Amoeba's aisles, but the whole LA trip. It's an object completely tied to the experience of obtaining it, associated with a location, an engagement with the world. I'm no Roger Ebert (his tweets about the tragic advancement of e-readers made me unfollow him - and this from someone with a serious used book-buying problem/devotion), but the whole thing made me think about shopping trips of days gone by that have disappeared from my life due to my digital awakening. I remember very clearly going into Encore at least once a week in high school, checking the Tori Amos imports and singles first thing, of course, and then browsing for incredibly long periods of time. Looking at the boys looking at the music.
I thought about this stuff again when I heard that Blockbuster declared bankruptcy. It's not that I'll miss THE MAN renting me videos, but it is representative of another entertainment-related shift: while I still frequent Queen Video/Film Buff (even though I pretty much hate the staff at both these places - give me fake Blockbuster corporate cheer over open hipster disgust and misogyny any day) fairly often for TV-on-DVD needs, this happens far less often than it used to, and I almost never rent movies anymore. I can watch them much more conveniently and cheaply in other ways. But, man...I remember going to rental places on a weekly basis, at least. Eftyhia and I used to wander around these places choosing movies every weekend from childhood to adulthood, her magnetically drawn to new arrivals back in the day, me to goofball older stuff, both of us opposed to romantic comedies (always, though many snuck in). I remember lots of browsing with certain boys as well, laughing at various odd titles and cover art, eating the stale free popcorn at Jumbo Video. The enjoyable challenge that is finding a movie Ellie and I agree on. There was also a lot of browsing alone, especially towards the end of my time in KW, sometimes just because I felt like a movie, sometimes because I felt like I needed a movie to save me. I never, ever thought I'd feel sentimental about something so commonplace and insignificant as wandering amongst the plastic, but it's another instance of experience and activity extracted from consumption. It seems particularly meaningful in this period of relative isolation I feel like I'm in. Physically social experiences are harder and harder to come by (in my leisure time - my days are social by definition). However, at the same time - I'm not complaining. Every day I'm pretty amazed by what the electronic world offers me. So, in conclusion, I take back everything. JK. In conclusion, we live in a confusing, awesome time. There's another example of my english degree at work. "Since the dawn of mankind..."
Dudes, seriously, check out the world of Tom Scharpling. Go here: http://www.scharplingandwurster.com.