Growing up in Arkansas was great for a lot of reasons (low crime rate, good education, plenty of open space to start fires and blow up home appliances). But when it came to discovering music I didn’t have many options…
Music on vinyl wasn’t something I was very familiar with (except just being HUGE cardboard squares in my parents storage cabinet). The first musical memories I have involve Beach Boys tapes. I was wearing out the cassettes handed down to me by my father, some dubbed from his vinyl collection. Allman Brothers, Elvin Bishop, Led Zeppelin, the Beatles… they were all there. My dad used one of those label-maker guns so all his tapes had a uniform look to them. He respects his music collection. That’s probably why he gave me all his cassettes and CDs while leaving his vinyl safely stored away in a distant cabinet upstairs.
My first tape was “Surfin’ USA” by The Beach Boys (some convenience store greatest hits bargain cassette). My first CD was “Some Gave All” by Billy Ray Cyrus (my mom used to make me sing Achy Breaky Heart to all her friends). My first MP3 was definitely Weezer’s cover of “Velouria” (oh boy and then Napster came out).
The first seven inch I ever bought was “There Is No Dana” by Cory Branan from Last Chance Records. It was awesome and meant a lot of things to me. That recording of “She’s My Rock N Roll” really has some special characteristics that will always stick with me. Cory was my intro to local music. My brother would sneak me into the Flying Saucer to see him play when I was 17 or 18. Toby used to work for Madjack (Cory’s label at the time), and I guess he thought it was something I should see. He was right. It still sticks with me how Cory would play super quiet when the drunk, frat crowd got REALLY loud. They’d all be hollering about some zany thing they thought was important, forgetting there was music going on that they’d paid to see (hmm…), and he would drop his volume drastically till the crowd chilled out… then he’d belt out some devil yell in the middle of his lyric. I like that trick, and I use it often.
Anyway, his record started my Memphis vinyl collection. Then I went to Goner Records for the first time. The next record I remember buying was Jay Reatard’s “Hammer I Miss You” and, for me, that changed the game.
My relationship with vinyl records has done a 180 since I was kid. In the end, I’ve scratched all the CDs I used to own; I wore out all the Beach Boys best of’s and all my dad’s cassette dubs; and I’ve re-downloaded, deleted, and lost every MP3 that’s ever been stored on one of my computers. My vinyl collection is still there. For some reason I drag it around to every apartment, duplex, or random house I move into. All the music that has ever been important to me I own on vinyl (with the exception of Jim Dickinson‘s “Dixie Fried”, “Like Flies On Sherbert” by Alex Chilton, and certain recordings by Moloch, Sid Selvidge, and Furry Lewis). There’s something that commands respect out of a huge, square record sleeve. Always has and always will. For me, at least.
Jake Vest stay pretty busy playing in 100 bands and recording bands at High/Low Studio. He also just started a new cassette only music label, American Grapefruit Tapes. Check out some tunes from Tiger High.
