The Universe Decides

The winnowing of the vinyl continues. This week, I got back to work, sorting the pop, rock and R&B LPs in a swath that ran from Sade to Warren Zevon, keeping maybe 100 out of the 600 LPs I looked at, putting the rest in crates on the floor. (From there, they’ll go to boxes that we’ll take down to Minneapolis, probably in early January.)

There were some tough decisions: I let go of lots of Neil Young, and lots of stuff by Jesse Colin Young and the Youngbloods, War, the Waterboys, Stevie Wonder, the Who, Paul Simon and Simon & Garfunkel, and Steeleye Span. Much of that stuff is replicated in the digital stacks; some isn’t.

What did I keep?

Well, all the Bruce Springsteen stays here, as does all the Boz Scaggs. The same goes for Jesse Winchester, Southside Johnny (with and without the Asbury Jukes), Bobby Whitlock, the Sutherland Brothers (with and without Quiver) and Tower of Power.

There were, of course, other albums by lesser-known (and lesser-regarded) performers and groups. Some of those stayed and some were put on the floor to leave. I kept individual albums by, as examples, Huey “Piano” Smith., Tim Weisberg, Floyd Westerman, Paul Williams, Jennifer Warnes and Jimmy Webb. Among those set to leave are individual records by – again as examples – Warren Zevon, Michelle Shocked, the Turtles, Carly Simon, the Three Degrees and Rick Wakeman.

Many of the decisions were hard (the two hardest were letting go of twelve albums by War and six by Steeleye Span, keeping in each case an anthology), and I imagine that if I’d been doing this batch of sorting on another day, some of those decisions would have been different.

So what’s left to sort? Well, about 800 LPs sit on the bricks and boards I wrote about long ago in a tale about dad’s woodworking skills and my use of a saber saw, and I would guess about half of those will stay. That’s where you’ll find Bob Dylan, The Band, the Beatles, the blues collection, my dad’s classical collection, standard pop (including Al Hirt), country, and lots of anthologies.

I would guess that most of the anthologies will go; many of them are K-Tel and Ronco records with truncated versions of hits, and some of the country and standard pop will go. My goal – negotiated with the Texas Gal, whose aim is to trim down all of our belongings for the eventual move to an apartment – is to get to right around 1,000 LPs. And, as I said, some of the decisions are difficult. Some are not: There were no twinges of regret as I put albums by Uriah Heep and Bonnie Tyler, to name two, into the crates on the floor.

And sometimes the universe decides. At one point yesterday morning, I was holding Gold in California, a two-record anthology of the work of the late folk singer Kate Wolf, whose music I love. I’ve mentioned her a very few times over these nearly ten years, and I’ve gathered a bit of her stuff into the digital stacks, including all the tracks on Gold in California. But it was the only album of hers among the vinyl. So I was dithering.

I’d had my iTunes library playing on random as I sorted. And as I pondered what to do with the anthology, iTunes offered me “Carolina Pines,” one of only four Kate Wolf tracks among those 3,700-some selections. I nodded and put the album with the keepers. After all, who am I to argue with the universe?

Here’s “Carolina Pines.” It’s from Wolf’s 1985 album Poet’s Heart.

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