It had to be done. Yep, I've slogged my way through hundreds of 7" singles in my possession, compiling a complete A-Z list. Yeah, exciting, I know. The other week I did the same with my CDs, ending up with 15 pages of these. Strangely, it's the same again, 15 pages of singles. So about 750 of each. (Is having 750 singles or 750 CDs grounds for some kind of bragging rights ...? Er, no, I don't think so). But, why even do such a mind-bendingly dull thing? A labour of love? An urge to "document" what I have? A miser-like wish to count up my precious musical riches? Not really. The reason I did these two back-breaking lists - which took absolutely bloody hours of my invaluable time - was to try to prevent acquiring double-ups when I'm perusing the chaotic and confusing shelves of charity shops or record shop bargain bins.
Don't fear the cataloguer: post-inventory singles Fashionable chap that I am, in recent years I've become addicted to picking up cheapo records and CDs but I've also been uneasily aware that I was probably getting some things for a second (or even a third ...?!) time. Do I already have this one? Er, maybe ... No man, who can possibly remember every last CD they have by Hot Chip or every single by Hamilton Bohannon? Not me. It's a dilemma. You're in a charity shop in far-away Peckham or Ilford or Chiswick, and you pick up a decent-looking item. Oh no, do I part with my precious £2 and take home that slightly scuffed single ("some surface wear but plays fine ..."), or do I hold back? It's my one chance (sort of). Anyway, having some kind of list on your phone seems the only logical thing to do. So after years of not-very-organised hoarding, I recently got around to properly arranging my CDs (or so I think) and a BIG LIST was duly accomplished. Now BIG LIST no2 has been put down on paper (computer). Yeah, hurrah for me, hurrah for lists. Meanwhile, the process has been (kind of) interesting. For one thing I've ended up spending a lot of time on Discogs, finding it was the one reliable way of identifying dozens of records with completely mystifying covers and cryptic centre labels. Reggae records are notoriously tricky (for me anyway), not least because the information on the labels is sometimes totally wrong or just non-existent, while I also have quite a lot of obscure-ish hardcore stuff with virtually illegible cover designs. Split-band singles are another complication, and there are some singles with four (or more) artists on them. And it transpires that I have one seven-inch single with 12 separate tracks crammed onto it. So yeah, the dubious pleasures of compiling a catalogue. The angst of the inventory-maker ... True, the process of A-Z'ing is also quite revealing. Who knew, for example, that I have six different records by the Butterflies Of Love (Dream Driver, It’s Different Now, Orbit Around You, Rob A Bank, The Mutation, and Wintertime Queen)? Blimey, do the former members of the band themselves have this many in their possession? Another surprise was discovering that I have four Flesh For Lulu records (Restless, Roman Candle, Subterraneans, Ten Foot Tall). Four records by a so-so 1980s goth band I hardly cared about at the time, and not one of which I actually remember buying. Other minor surprises: that I have six records by Roxy Music (All I Want Is You, Both Ends Burning, Dance Away, Love Is The Drug, Street Life, The Same Old Scene), plus another three by Mr Smoothie-Chops (aka Bryan Ferry) himself (Smoke Gets In Your Eyes, The ‘In’ Crowd, What Goes On). Sure, maybe I shouldn't have all of these not-exactly-vital tunes, but ... well, I have. Oh, and I also - rather more pleasingly - have a copy of Spizzenergi's Soldier Soldier, complete with its b-side, their amazing cover of Virginia Plain, another Ferry song and possibly the best thing Roxy Music (and Spizz Energy?) ever did. You're so sheer, you're so chic / Teenage rebel of the week ...
Q: Where's Captain Kirk? A: Nowhere, because er, I don't have it
But for fuck's sake, you're probably thinking. What's all this verbiage about list-making! It's supposed to be about the music, right? Shut up about your idiotic cataloguing and er, try to say something interesting about actual music. Yeah, true. And I think it's also true that the cold, hard, list-making mentality feels like it flies in the face of all that's great about music. Spontaneity, beauty, blissful rapture etc. It's even, perhaps, why I might have held back from ever doing these lists - plus the sheer tedium and hard work of it all. To alleviate the boredom in recent days I did - naturally - stick on a few records as I was ploughing through the 7" stacks. What's this one like, I'd think. Or this one. I have no idea who this is or what it sounds like. Hmm, Norman Greenbaum, Spirit In The Sky. That's rubbish, right? Like that horrible and annoying cover version by Doctor And The Medics. Wrong! Turns out the Greenbaum song is excellent (infectious and slightly broody boogie-rock) and a definite keeper. In fact, within my patchy quality-control process I found only 19 records that had to go, including Deep Purple's execrable Fireball and Steely Dan's equally bad Do It Again. Don't ask me how I ever ended up with some of these records by the way. It's a complete mystery. No, going through these piles and piles of records wasn't all hard slog, there was er, a bit of music to listen to along the way (look out, btw, for the inevitable random singles compilation I'll almost certainly put together on my - new! - Mixcloud in the coming days). And meanwhile, I found 19 (again!) records that were indeed double-ups. Nineteen bloody records bought (or acquired) twice over. Madness! A couple of these are even quite new ones I deliberately purchased from La Vida Es Un Mus. Ffs. No, it might feel a bit unromantic and even somehow slightly un-musical to cold-heartedly compile a list of the music you own, but there's no other way. Singles going steady. Yep, you've got to know what you've got if you're going to stay in a healthy relationship with your music.
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