My name is Frances Sun and I am writing about my record collection
The last time I had to write in complete sentences was approximately two decades ago. As a nurse, I not only get away with, but am encouraged to write in sentence fragments for the sake of expediency.
Lacking the writing skill to properly express how I feel about this album, I’ll express it the way I do know:
Alert and oriented x 4. Vital signs extremely funky. Plentiful melodious output. Fiery sputum. Bass line sick. Delivery clean, sharp, and witty. Will continue to listen.
The entire reason I own this record is because I am an unobservant scatterbrained dummy.
I found this record in the discount section of a record shop in Indiana while visiting my parents several years ago. “Score!” I thought, thinking that I had found a great deal on The Velvet Underground and Nico’s self titled album. I bought it, put it in the pile of records to wash and re-sleeve and didn’t discover my mistake until washing the record…
I wasn’t going to bother going all the way back to Indiana to return the record, so I stuck it on the shelf, moved it from apartment to apartment, and hauled it all the way across the country to Seattle still unplayed…until this morning.
First impressions:
Overall, I think I liked the covers that were closer to the original than the ones that took more liberal interpretations. But, that could also just be me kicking myself for accidentally buying this. As of this writing, I still don’t own the original 😢.
Okay, back on the shelf it goes…
I didn’t discover Big Thief until late 2022 because I have been living under a rock.
Well, maybe not a rock but definitely a too-small Seattle apartment with 12(!) bicycles, my partner, and a manic but cuddly corgi. In the clutter, my turntable, records, and stereo got pushed by the wayside. Instead I focused on the world outside my apartment walls. I developed a semi-serious cycling habit, joined a bicycle racing team, and put in part-time-job hours pushing the pedals of a bicycle.
Just a few months ago, we moved to a much bigger space with a garage to house all of those bicycles and space to listen to music without worrying about neighbors stacked on all sides. With the added space, I decided I wanted to rediscover my record collection, and the joy of listening to music with purpose and intention. I upgraded my speakers and turntable, and decided to start this blog.
The thing is, listening to and discovering new music requires effort and intention – or in the case of Big Thief, browsing Pitchfork’s end-of-year reader’s poll. On the surface – they seem to make homey folksy music with acoustic instruments and just the right amount of twang. Dig deeper though, and there’s just a bit of feedback and distortion here, and a touch of trip-hop there. It’s both cozy yet expansive and just plain pretty.
Finding new-to-me music like Big Thief reminds me of why I started collecting records many years ago in the first place.
The year is 2000-something and I’m a two-time college dropout waiting tables and living paycheck to paycheck, with just a little bit of extra cash to blow on booze or the occasional vinyl record. This was before the present day vinyl cash-grab where every semi-popular band is getting the RSD colored vinyl repress treatment. Suffice to say, Suede’s Dog Man Star released in 1994, not exactly the height of the vinyl era, was hard to find. So, when a copy (albeit a bit worse for the wear) popped up on eBay for a mere $70, I told myself that it was less than the $100+ it usually sold for, gritted my teeth, and bought it.
In summary, I spent about an entire shift’s worth of income on 57 minutes and 50 seconds worth of music played on two round sheets of grooved plastic. Okay, maybe it’s not a Friday or Saturday night worth of tips, but I have certainly walked home on a Tuesday night with less.
Why did I make such a poor financial decision, you might ask. Well, I was a poor 20-something with not a lot going on besides music; and Suede’s Dog Man Star, along with a handful of other albums, represented the pinnacle of music from the Britpop era. Britpop if the mid-90’s was bombastic, glamorous, and, unrestrained – the opposite of the sad, dark, grunge music happening at that time across the pond in the US. And Suede was the most glamorous of all – with an androgynous Brett Anderson strutting around in his tight pants and eyeliner, singing about platinum spires and plastic flowers.
I fucking loved it. I loved all things Britpop, but I especially loved Brett Anderson, and tight pants, and eye liner, and songs you could dance to – like really dance to not that weird indie-hipster-head-nod thing.
I may have eaten more ramen noodles, but I bought that record with no regrets.
Square Moon Spins 