Like a lot of vinyl DJs starting out I loved a compilation. I could stand behind the decks on the shoulders of some serious selectors and pretend to musical sophistication beyond my years and budget, not to mention four or five good compilations in the bag meant I didn't have to take a second heavy bag across London that night.
I guess these handy collections started to lose their allure for me about twenty years ago. After finally paying my dues in bars, clubs, shops and at car boot sales, most of the selections just weren't as enlightening and the rookie collection gaps had long been filled. There was also a growing desire to present my own hard dug obscure gems, up front white labels and overlooked B-sides to an audience, and differentiate myself from the compilation reliant newbies.
Obviously there are always exceptions to the rule. There are some seriously sick diggers with sagging floorboards & stories to tell; labels that have prised open the doors to previously locked vaults, storage units or buried master tapes, and obsessives from odd places with an ear for a tune and serious local knowledge that can only be gleaned with feet on the ground rather than via the internet.
This collection of wonderfully coined "sigh-chedelic" music unearthed by Charles Bals for the ever interesting Smiling C label, falls into category one and possibly three. I imagine a few of the tracks were from private press vinyl and tapes which rarely appear in your average record shop, so private dealers must be solicited, flea markets, garage sales and bric a brac stores must be scoured and America, due to its size, always has more of everything.
The world of private press primarily existed for reasons of artistic vanity and the fact that most of the music was so bad a label wouldn't go anywhere near it, and although these tracks are unfailingly great, I’m guessing the albums weren’t start to finish listens. So extra kudos and respect must also go to Bals, not only for his tireless searching, but the extra listening effort required to unearth the gems on this LP - of which there are many, and which focusses on the dying embers of folk rock's golden age.
One of the joys of this era for me is the regular use of vintage drum machines by these often one man (where were the women?) bands. Despite demanding today's programmed drums have variation, breakdowns and swing, I find real joy in those old school, unrelenting, metronomic sounds. Obviously a bit of melodic layering is also welcome and these lone bedroom troubadours are full of earnest AOR and stoned singer songwriter vocals, vintage synthesizer flourishes, soulful undertones and cosmic country vibes. The feel is real.
So if you don't mind a bit of borderline cheese, vibe on vintage lo-fi, like a bit of raw artistic endeavour, are aware of Numero Group or appreciate that even Toto had their deeper moments then you'll enjoy this fine compilation.
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