Fiction Friday (81)...A Nonfiction Edition

As I mentioned in my book review last week, I'd been reading a non-fiction book of late, something that I rarely do. It's not that I don't like informative real life stories, it's just that I've always found the inner world of the imagination more interesting, probably because I've always felt more at home there. But every once in a while, I do like to read non-fiction, and usually when I do, it has something to do with music. This is a book that passed to me from a friend who is aware of my vinyl record addiction. I thoroughly enjoyed it.

Old Records Never Die by Eric Spitznagel
(Plume Books, 2016)

The premise of this book reminds me of a line from written by John Frusciante:

"Sold all my records,
What a stupid thing to do.."
(from "Montreal" by Ataxia)

This is the thought that suddenly strikes Eric Spitznagel in his forties. It wasn't really a conscious decision to sell all of his records, it was just something that happened during the passage of time. Records gave way to CDs, and then the convenience and mobility of digital music. What would be the reason to hold onto these artifacts, especially when a few dollars might needed here or there?

This is the story of a man in search of what his lost. It is a story about getting caught up in the wave of time, drifting along for the ride without giving much thought to the meaning of things. The records Eric searches for are a search for memories, a search for the past and what once was but now is lost. It attempts to answer the question of whether or not we go back and re-capture these things.

The records are more than a metaphor, or a symbol, they act like a talisman...a physical object that awaken something deep inside us. Though Eric is successful in finding some of the records he owned in his youth, he discovers that certain things are lost forever, but that's okay. Memories are a part of life, but life is not meant for living in memories.

It reads like a delightful scavenger hunt for beloved objects and the meaning of life.

The Economy of Dreams

I frequently have dreams where I find myself in record stores that don't exist in reality. There is one particular record store that I've visited twice, in two different dreams, and which I attempted to visit a third time but could not seem to find the outdoor mall where I knew it to be located. This fictional store was located somewhere in the Interzone area outside New York. It had a brick edifice, was quite spacious, and contained a dynamite selection of albums that have never existed. 

Last night I had a dream about that very same store. Only this time I wasn't inside it, but rather was watching an interview with the owner. As it turned out, the store had closed down. It was the victim of its own success, having attracted other stores to the area and becoming unable to compete. It was quite upsetting. I felt genuine sadness that my favorite dream record shop hadn't survived the economy of my dreamworld. 

In a state of bewilderment, I came across a tiny record store located in a basement store front. It turns out this shop was owned and operated by Tina Fey and Amy Poehler, which sounds fantastic, but ended being a disaster. Both of them were in the shop, and it was run like a SNL skit. It didn't actually have any records. In the bins where the records were supposed to be were packages of ramen noodles with band logos on the front. There was also a wide variety of novelty items, which rather than amuse me, made me frustrated. The whole thing was this elaborate joke they had set upon record enthusiasts that caused me to make a scene. Needless to say, I won't be welcome in their shop during future dreams. I guess I'll just have to find that other store I was once at, the one that kept the really great stuff on the second floor...if only I can remember where it's located.