Let me wrap you in my warm and tender love

According to Wikipedia, "Record Store Day" is defined as an annual event, founded in 2007, that is held on third Saturday in April each year to celebrate the culture of the independently owned record store."

Ha, "annual."

I spent years celebrating this on a weekly if not daily basis. I, of course, didn't limit my excursions to independent shops; for me it was chains, want ads, yard sales, whatever.

Now, we need special days to commemorate what we've lost in this disposable, digital, lousy new music world.

So, enough with this "get off my lawn" moment.

Today is Record Store Day. If you can find one, go visit a shop and see if you can get a sense of when it all mattered so much more.

Today's music ain't got the same soul....

...and I've been telling you this for years and years.

Now science proves it.

And you can't refute science.

And you're in love with all the wonder it brings

By the time that my kids are grown, all of the products that Steve Jobs has been involved with will be second nature (if they aren't already). But the amazing thing is that when I was their age, no one could have dreamed that things like Smart phones and handheld tablet computers could ever exist. I mean, when I was ten, I had to wait until the  6 p.m. news on the radio (the radio!!) to get the Yankees score from the game that afternoon. Watch the game on your computer or phone? That was something from the Jetsons, if that.

And that is why Jobs, who died yesterday, was a visionary. He thought of things that were unthinkable just a short time ago.

Now, I'm not a big Apple guy. I have a MacBook and an iPod, and the MacBook is just fine; not that much different to me (really) than some other laptops I have owned. In fact, as a mostly PC guy, it sometimes annoys me.

But it's the iPod that I have issues with. It's great. Spectacular, even. Essential. All of these great songs, and it fits in your pocket. And you can hear whatever you want, whenever you want.

And despite the fact that I now could not live without it, I will forever be mad at Steve Jobs.

Why?

Because Steve Jobs and his ilk had a hand in destroying one of my favorite things.

Steve Jobs killed record stores.

For years and years and years, record stores were the only thing I liked as much as girls. The wonder, the mystery. the treasures (just like girls). The unknown discovery that might be lurking at the back of the promo copy bin. At the Big N, a long-ago-vanished department store in Willamsport, PA, they didn't even categorize the albums. They just threw them into the bins. You almost had to go through every record, every time you went to the store. How else to find the new Grin album?

This is what passed for adventure during my teen years, and it was insanely great.

I spent all week gearing up for trips to Joe Nardone's Gallery of Sound, the afore-mentioned Big N, The Stereo House, Wayne Department Store. And then I went home to my bedroom, put the vinyl on the turntable and studied the record jacket and memorized the players, the lyrics and any other information that might be listed.

And I listened, and listened, and listened.

This was my education.

And that ritual is gone forever (well, some stores, like Joe Nardone's, may still be still be around, but it's not the same).

I miss those times.

It's all because Steve Jobs thought we should live in a digital world with his fancy-pants iTunes.  Now, with music available instantly, who now has the time or space for a CD, let alone a record?

And that's a shame.

But I sure do love my iPod.

There's a sound, little girl, keeps ringing in my ear

Just for posterity, here are my Top 50 albums of all time (it's just impossible for me to limit this list to ten, which is the number that normally passes for a "Desert Island" list). These are the records that have stayed with me since I first heard them. And these choices have staying power; nearly all of this music here is at least 20 years old. Not that there hasn't been good or decent music made since then, but I certainly haven't heard anything to displace any of these records.

It's an old guy list; I'm an old guy, at least when it comes to musical tastes.

Fifty may seem like a lot, but it was incredibly difficult to narrow it down this far. You think it's easy to leave off "Quadrophenia?" And for some artists with a fabulous catalog (Teenage Fanclub), there is no one standout album for me, so they didn't even make the list. So there are omissions galore, artist-wise: Warren Zevon, Steve Earle, Rockpile, J. Geils Band, Kirsty MacColl, Alice Cooper, The Byrds, Joe Ely, Led Zeppelin, the list goes on and on and on.

This is music that represents a signpost. It either moved me emotionally and/or intellectually and often physically as well.

And yes, I cheated. In putting together my essential album list, I included compilations and anthologies. Why? Because they better represent the best of the artist as a whole. And it is primarily what I listen to when I want to hear something from that artist. So, for example, while "Bruised Orange" is one of John Prine's best works,  I still will more likely listen to "Great Days" for prime Prine.

So, these are not the "best albums" ever made necessarily (in some ways it's also a list of favorite artists too); although, in the grand scope of things, maybe they are.

But this is the music that certainly made the most impact in my life.

In alphabetical order, the Top 50 with a few extra for good measure:

• The Band - "The Band"
• The Beatles - "Abbey Road"
• The Beatles - "A Hard Day's Night"
• The Beatles - "Rubber Soul"
• The Beatles - "The White Album"
• Chuck Berry - "The Great Twenty-Eight"
• The Blasters - "Testament: The Complete Slash Recordings"
• Jackson Browne - "For Everyman"
• Jackson Browne - "Late for the Sky"
• The Clash - "London Calling"
• Sam Cooke - "Sam Cooke with the Soul Stirrers"
• Elvis Costello - "This Year's Model"
• Creedence Clearwater Revival - "Cosmo's Factory" 
• Del Amitri - "Change Everything"
• Bob Dylan - "Biograph"
• Bob Dylan - "Blood on the Tracks"
• Fairport Convention - "Liege and Lief"
• Ted Hawkins - "The Ted Hawkins Story: Suffer No More"
• Buddy Holly - "Gold"
• The Iron City Houserockers -  "Have a Good Time (But Get Out Alive)"
• The Kinks - "The Kink Kronikles"
• The Kinks - "Muswell Hillbillies"
• Little Feat - "Feat Don't Fail Me Now"
• Little Richard - "18 Greatest Hits"
• The Long Ryders - "State of Our Union"
• Nick Lowe - "Basher: The Best of Nick Lowe"
• Mink DeVille - "Cabretta"
• Van Morrison - "Into the Music"
• Van Morrison - "Moondance"
• Van Morrison - "Astral Weeks"
• Mott the Hoople - "Mott"
• Graham Parker and the Rumor - "Howlin' Wind"
• Graham Parker and the Rumor - "Squeezing Out Sparks"
• Poco - "A Good Feelin' to Know"
• The Pretenders - "The Pretenders"
• John Prine - "Great Days" 
• The Ramones - "Rocket to Russia"
• The Raspberries - "Capital Collector's Series"
• Otis Redding - "Otis Redding Sings Soul Ballads"
• Amy Rigby - "Diary of a Mod Housewife"
• Rolling Stones - "Let it Bleed"
• Rolling Stones - "Exile on Main St."
• Son Volt - "Trace"
• Southside Johnny and the Asbury Jukes - "Hearts of Stone"
• Bruce Springsteen - "Born to Run"
• Bruce Springsteen - "Darkness on the Edge of Town"
• Bruce Springsteen - "Tunnel of Love"
• Bruce Springsteen - "The Wild, the Innocent and the E Street Shuffle"
• Richard and Linda Thompson- "Shoot out the Lights"
• Richard and Linda Thompson - "I Want to See the Bright Lights Tonight"
• Various Artists -  "The Harder They Come" soundtrack
• Various Artists -"The Phil Spector Collection"
• Various Artists - "Hitsville USA -- The Motown Singles Collection '59-'71"
• Various Artists - "Stax-Volt Complete Singles '59-'68"
• The Velvet Underground - "Loaded"

Lord won't you tell us, tell us what does it mean

This isn't a great song, or anything special as a piece of music. Pretty formulaic singing and melody, but really representative of what comes from Nashville these days.

However, the sentiments expressed are something else altogether, especially for anyone with an elderly parent or who has lived with a family member suffering from Alzheimer's or dementia.

And the video hits the mark as well, tiptoeing north above the maudlin line, packing an emotional wallop and guaranteed to to produce some moist eyes.
_______________________________________

News of the death today of the great Harmon Killebrew reminds me of story he often told, which resonates to me as a dad who always feels he could be spending more time with his kids.

Apparently, his father used to play catch endlessly with him in the back yard. When Harmon was 9 or so, his mother came to the back door and said something to the effect of, "will you two stop that and come inside. You're killing the grass."

To which the elder Killebrew replied, "we're not raising grass. We're raising a son."

Learned more from a three-minute record...

Speaking of radio, "Little Steven's Underground Garage," which is always great and a true bright spot on the dial, was especially noteworthy last weekend. In the first of a three-part series, he and special guest Bruce Springsteen discussed their influences, along with the first records each bought.

For Little Steven, his first purchase was "Tears on My Pillow" by Little Anthony and the Imperials, while Springsteen's was a record of Dusty Rhodes (wasn't he a professional wrestler?) doing Elvis covers. "Meet the Beatles" was the first album for each.

For me, it was the Beatles' "I Want to Hold Your Hand," although as Springsteen mentioned on the show, I also was attracted to novelty records. "The Twist" and "Limbo Rock" were Top Tens for me, and I was fortunate because my 10 years-older-than-me brother had many of the most boss 45s.

When he was out of the house, I would go into his room and play some of them quietly and stare at them like they were all various pieces of the Holy Grail. I was especially enthralled by the Sun label. It's bright yellow illustration of a rooster was striking, and even more prized because of the wondrous sounds I heard when I put them on the turntable. Elvis, of course, but also Billy Lee Riley, Roy Orbison and Jerry Lee Lewis.

At the time I didn't know I was holding history in my hands. But I knew these were significant; they felt real, and had some primoridal sound that suggested a larger world outside of that tiny bedroom. I played these records and looked at them for hours, and I was lucky -- my mother never told me to stop, only to be careful with them. I like to think I treated the records with the museum respect they deserved. The time spent in that room turned out to some of my most important education.

By the time "Rubber Soul" (my first album) came out, I had cajoled my parents into my little record player, on which I played my own tiny, but ever-growing, record collection until I wore out the grooves. I went to McCrory's every week with my paper-route money to check out new releases, hoping for a Beatles picture sleeve each time.

I've gone on about this before, but this is why today's music seems so disposable. It's downloaded, from somewhere in the air, and it feels like it could all go away in one quick breath, or click. And if it's new music maybe it wouldn't even matter.

A few weeks ago I was looking through my old albums that I don't really play anymore. Each jacket has a story, a memory, and sometime provokes a question: What the hell was I thinking with this Uriah Heep album?

But I can't part with them; each is a mile marker: some good, some bad, some great, some embarassing, some indispensible. When I hold my very worn copy of "Sgt. Pepper's," I'm 12 years old, listening to life-changing music while my parents are downstairs and my brother is studying across the hall.

And life is full of promise, and not so complicated.

Radio, radio, hear my tale of heartbreak

Spent many hours in the car over the weekend, being old school and twisting the dial, both AM and FM.

Now I know why satellite radio is so popular. Other than sports, or unless you enjoy having your intelligence insulted by the likes of Michael Savage, what a wasteland.

In particular, AM Top 40. Katy Perry: awful. Lady Gaga: even more awful. The majority of rap and hip hop: unlistenable. And anyone who uses Auto-Tune should not be allowed to record anything. Ever. If you need technology to sing on pitch, give it up. You're in the wrong business.

I used to complain about the fading state of Top 40 radio when I was in school, but for the love of God. I think Styx, America and Journey are like Mozart compared to this drivel.

And yes, I am the old man yelling at the cloud.

Somebody has to do it.

To know just what I've got in this new thing I've found

Don Kirshner helped make me the man I am today.

Strange, but true.

Long ago, before the days of 500 channels and instant access to whatever you want via the Internet, the only way you could see your favorite bands in small town Pennsylvania (or any bands for that matter) was through late night television: “The Midnight Special,”” In Concert” and “Don Kirshner’s Rock Concert.”

Kirshner’s show featured the legendary mogul himself, woodenly introducing each act with a thick Bronx accent in a (usually) three-piece leisure suit. It was on this show that I first saw Todd Rundgren, Kansas, ELO, Blue Oyster Cult, and so many others. Where else would I have ever heard of John McLaughlin and the Mahavishnu Orchestra?

I still remember this appearance by the Doobie Brothers, which promptly had me heading out in my ’62 Tempest to the Big N for a copy of “The Captain and Me.”

It was the 70s, so there was a lot of bad with the good. But that didn’t matter. It was music, and for a rock and roll-starved teenager, it was like a tonic to see this every Saturday night.

But what a weird juxtaposition to see this most unhip of characters introducing the likes of Alice Cooper and David Bowie. I think it made adolescence even more confusing for me.

But Kirshner know exactly what he was doing, and he had his finger on the pulse of popular music for more than two decades; he had a large part in the Brill Building, the Monkees and "Sugar Sugar."

Don Kirshner died Monday, and with him goes an era that included a strange and wonderful show that was the stuff that dreams were made of...

Well, at least for one pimply-faced teenager a long, long time ago.

I guess I just wasn't made for these times

Long ago, the thing I most liked to do was while away time in a record store.

Now, in our instant gratification era, we download digital music, often the day, hour or even seconds after it is released. Who has time to drive to a store anyway and stand in line?

Now, for those who are brave enough to venture somewhere to buy music, you have to go a big-box store or one of many beyond-soulless chains who all carry the same CDs.

Or, you go online and order from Amazon.

How depressing.

Record stores used to be places of wonder where you never knew what was hiding around the next corner, in the back of the next bin. That great lost Swamp Dogg album or limited-edition Wreckless Eric picture disc could be misfiled, you know? Album jackets were pondered over – the artwork, the credits. How could you pull the zipper up and down on “Sticky Fingers” if it was a CD?

Stores, many of them independently-owned, had their own personalities, where the staff put albums on display that they themselves liked. I found many treasured records because someone had the good taste to put a new or unknown artist front and center in the store. How else would I have heard of the debut albums by Guy Clark and Lloyd Cole?

It also helped that record albums were big, substantive and actually felt like something in our hands, unlike the plastic disposable feel of CDs. And who hasn’t struggled with opening a CD or having the plastic case crack on the day you buy it?

Of course, the music was better back then too, but that’s another story.

Some sound purists scoff at the crackle and pop of vinyl, preferring the compressed unscratched sound of CDs. To me, those imperfections only added character and forced me to take better care of my albums, many of which were among my most prized possessions. For example, my promo copy of Southside Johnny and Asbury Jukes Live at the Bottom Line.

Buying music back in the day was dark, romantic and mysterious, just like your first crush (or at least that's how my first crush was).

It really didn’t matter if the clerk looked like Jack Black in "High Fidelity." And probably smelled bad too.

I miss those times. A lot.

I need to dig out my turntable.