Sliding Into the World
of Digital Grease
Okay, I'll share a guilty little secret with you. Much as I
have had a life-long appreciation for fine recordings and the equipment to play them on, I
have also had an unabashed devotion to the greasy old rock 'n' roll of the '50s and '60s.
Heck, I even remember fondly the pre-rock schlock of artists like Patti Page and Guy
Mitchell, as the 78s in my basement will attest.
As a certified pack rat, I tended to hang onto all the
records I bought back then. There were quite a few of them because I found that they were
about the only thing that got me invited to parties, so I made sure I had most of the
current hits. That was no big deal financially; my favorite discount record store sold 45s
at three for $2 back then.
Later I discovered somewhat to my surprise that other
people didn't keep their old music; they grew up and threw out all their Frankie Avalon
and 1910 Fruitgum Company recordings.  Still, nostalgia is a potent force, and it wasn't long before my supposedly
mature contemporaries began hankering for the old tunes.
Radio stations found themselves digging out singles they
hadn't played in years, and movies like American Graffiti catered to the renewed
interest in early rock. As for me, I bundled up all my old vinyl and managed to make a
little extra money playing DJ at various oldies dances and parties.
I soon realized that, although not bad as a private
collection, my records needed some supplementation. For one thing, many of the discs --
the favorite cuts, usually -- had been played pretty hard over the years, on a variety of
not-too-pristine turntables, and definitely sounded it. Also, there were gaps -- songs
that people wanted to hear and that I wanted to own but for one reason or another hadn't
bought the first time around.
Fortunately, there was a boom in reissues of this music at
the time, and I proceeded to fill the holes in my list. I bought 45 reissues, I bought LP
collections, I bought movie soundtracks, I even bought a few original releases. And for
the records I couldn't replace, I experimented with various techniques to squeeze the best
possible sound from damaged records.
Eventually, I bought my first computer, and when I should
have been working, I used it to catalogue all this musical detritus. Turns out I could
call on more than 2,000 records that had charted between 1955 and 1970. Surely that was
enough!
But there were gaps . . .
Nevertheless, I decided that my collection was something I
should assemble only once in my life, and that it was as complete as it was ever likely to
be. Then I made a fatal mistake. Browsing through the offerings at my local CD store
(vinyl had expired by then), I happened on a CD that included a couple of songs I had long
given up hope of finding. I bought it.
If I'd only listened to those tracks, things would have
been fine. But I not only listened to the rest of the CD, but I also did some direct
comparisons between the digital recordings and their vinyl equivalents, where I had them.
The results were dramatic.
People may argue that the CD is by no means a perfect
medium, and that there are some things analog recording does better. But whichever side of
that controversy one occupies, it's hard to argue that the CD wins hands-down when
compared to even the best vinyl versions of this old material. Of course, the digital
medium often reveals flaws in the originals that were masked by the distortion and noise,
but that's hardly the fault of the newer system. In any event, you can hear all
that garbage on the old records if you listen for it, but you have to put up with all the
other stuff as well.
Soon I was delving into the peculiar world of CD reissues,
of which there are an unbelievable number. I discovered major bargoons, ripoffs (several
companies package a couple of real reissues with a dozen or so recent rerecordings
"by the original artists"; sometimes this is admitted -- in tiny type --
sometimes not), and anomalies (why is the excellent 9-volume Rhino "British
Invasion" series only available from Volume 5 up in Canada?; for 1-4 you have to go
to the States).
But more than anything I began to look on my quest for
digital grease as a marriage -- or at least a very long-term relationship -- with
Time Life Music. You've seen the infomercials, where the guy plays a record that looks
(and sounds) as if it's been used as a beer tray, and then pops in the CD for a perfectly
clear version. "Have your credit card handy and call now to 1-800 . . ."
 I'm not one for midnight
shopping, but when a brochure hawking "The Rock 'n' Roll Era" came in the mail I
was hooked. Sure the discs are pricey, but the selection looked great. It is, too, and the
transfers are superb. Sign me up.
In the booklet, it looked like there might be seven or
eight discs in the set, max. They dribbled in every so often on a unpredictable schedule,
but what's coming tends to be shrouded in mystery. For one thing, there's no discernible
order -- 1958 may be followed by 1962, followed by 1956, and so on. And then there are
unexpected extras -- a disc devoted entirely to Elvis or the Everly Brothers. And before I
had one disc for each year, I started to get supplementary discs for years I already had.
There was no indication from Time Life as to how long this
would to go on, or how many discs are in the series. Before I quit I bought 18, and I knew
of at least two that exist but I hadn't received. Ultimately, I called Time Life and found
out that the series consisted of forty discs -- I hadn't even bought half of them.
The same was true of the later series, called "Classic
Rock" (music of the later '60s). I received 11, knew of six more (a friend had
those), and found out that, if I'd hung in, the total would have been 25 -- for 1968 I
received three discs. And then there's the earlier "Your Hit Parade"
series (nine out of another 40).
At last count, the tally of CD oldies on my shelf was just
over 1,800. There's still a way to go because the CDs contain lots of cuts I never owned
as 45s, and a number that I did -- about 400 -- I still don't have in digital form. The
feverish acquisition of this stuff has tapered off a bit in recent years, but the flow
hasn't stopped entirely.
And no, I'm not throwing out the vinyl.
...Ian G. Masters
ian@mastersonaudio.com
|
