Why do we amass stuff we don’t need? Not all collecting is art collecting and no real collector would acquire things just as a status enhancement or investment. Real collectors are after something else. The objects in their collection are taken out of use, removed from circulation. The real value of a piece lies not in its auction price, but in the importance it has in the collection.

No true devotee would buy a T-shirt worn by Mick Jagger during a concert, chuck it in the washing machine and wear it. A Mick Jagger T-shirt is no longer a T-shirt, it’s a

connection to the world of Sex and Drugs and Rock ‘n Roll, a form of genius, a dream. Collected objects are like holy relics: conduits to another world. They have shed their original function and become totems, fetishes. Collecting by its very nature is animist and transcendental.

The objects and their organization bind us to something larger than ourselves, and as religion was born out of a fear of death and the wish of eternal life, collecting expresses the same fundamental urges. There are two corresponding impulses in collecting. One, epitomized by Casanova and Don Giovanni, show the erotic side of the object as fetish: the fury of conquest exhausting itself in the act (acquired objects are no longer as important as those still to be conquered) and living on only in Casanova’s Memoirs and Don Giovanni’s catalog of women, faded records of past glory.

The second, totemic impulse brings to mind a pharaoh’s tomb. Carefully arranged around the sarcophagus are representatives of the king’s possessions, of the wealth and the resources he needs to live on in the afterworld. Their presence is symbolic, but it assures survival. It is remarkable how many collectors chose to be immortalized through their collections, either by naming and donating them, by a continued presence as founder’s portrait or statue, or even as a wax work.

Like relics, collected objects are keys to another world and guarantors of immortality. That is why our urge to collect is impossible to ignore: it touches the very depths of who we are.

AP Video

What happens to the non-collectible records in the future? I have many more non-collectible records than collectible ones and, although I like a lot of the music, I have many more records than I desire to keep. But there is no market for them, at least if I want to sell them. Where do they go? Is all that music, and the covers and liner notes, is it all destined for the garbage bin some day? Is there no afterlife for this stuff?

Overall, not bad. The concert wasn’t exactly as I expected. The first set there were no strings and only a little bit of McPherson. It was mostly a sextet under the direction of Vincent Gardner, a trombone player affiliated with the Jazz at Lincoln Center Orchestra. They played a set of bop tunes associated with Bird, although the sensibility was more post-bop than bop, which was fine by me. The highlight for me was the alto player Wess Anderson. McPherson joined for the end of the first set and he was in okay form, nothing great.

The second set brought out the string section, with a lot more McPherson and also some more Anderson. This set was definitely more interesting to me. What was most compelling was watching the alto players playing with the string section and how much they enjoyed the interaction – then thinking about Bird, back in the early 1950s, and how much he would have valued this kind of background as well: Where he was the featured soloist in a far more highbrow type of setting and all of the other musicians, classically trained, were there to support him. It was actually enlightening from that perspective, and the music was nice as well.

As for the venue . . . can’t really complain. The acoustics were fine, everyone could see from all seats. The prices were quite high – I paid more than $80 a seat and sat upstairs – and the hall was small enough as halls go, so it’s definitely a nice setting for jazz, although there was nothing in either the music or venue that made me feel like, “Oh yeah, I have to come back here.”  Having said that, I’ll have no problem going back if there’s another concert that strikes my fancy.

Anyway, as happened once in a while those days, a guy came in with crates of rare records and had absolutely no idea of their value. No idea at all. New records were selling for $7.99 in stores, or something like that, so he figured used records must be $5 or so. So he priced all of his records at $5. This included Tina Brooks True Blue; Lee Morgan Candy; Hank Mobley’s Message, 1 and 2; and many, many others too numerous to name. The guy was at a table near me, and I would have pounced, but I never got the chance. As he was getting the records out of his car, two of the top New York dealers of the day accosted him, convinced him to show them the records and pulled out all of the valuables before they made their way into the room.

Because the guy’s table was near mine, I chatted with him a bit during the day and he confided two things to me. 1. He may have made a mistake in pricing the records so low. Perhaps he should have asked for $7 each instead of $5. 2. It was a good thing he only brought a few of his records because he had hundreds more at home he was hoping to sell. Upon hearing this revelation, my heart sank into my stomach and I pictured the big score of my lifetime. I acted quite calmly, of course. Really, I said. You have more records. You would like to sell them for $7 each. I might be interested. If you’re not doing anything tomorrow, how about if I come by your house. I don’t live too far away. Oh yes, do me one more favor: Don’t tell anyone else about this, just in case I would like to buy all of the records. I don’t think I slept at all that night in anticipation. I went to the bank early, took out $400 cash, which was all I could really afford at the time, and headed to the guy’s house so I would be there at 7:30 a.m. He had told me to come at 9 a.m., but I wasn’t taking any chances.

So I got there, and I had $4,000 in my pocket, and I rang the doorbell at 7:30 and the guy answered the door and he said come in and there in the living room was one of the NY dealers rifling through the guys shelves as if he had springs in his fingers: Pulling out records, dropping them on the floor, pulling out more records and creating a pile of Blue Notes and Prestiges and Riversides and Emarcy’s the likes of which I had never seen. The guy introduced me to the dealer, who was about as pleased to see me as I was pleased to see him, and I started going through any area of shelf that looked like it hadn’t been pored through. There were still plenty of nice records on the shelves and at $7 apiece I was still ready for a score. I must have had 60 records in my pile and the other dealer must have had 200 records but still he looked at my pile with envy and clearly wanted what he had and what I had.

I pulled out my $400 and started to settle with the guy when the dealer opened up his mouth. “You should be charging $20 a record,” he said. “That’s what I’ll pay you for all of the records. $20 each.” I had 60 records. At $20 apiece I was looking at $1,200, which I didn’t have, either in my pocket or in my bank account. The dealer pulled out a roll of cash. The guy selling the records was clearly startled. “Twenty dollars apiece,” he said. “That sounds about right.” I looked at the dealer with contempt and did what I had to do, which was choose the 20 records I really wanted. I think I negotiated with the guy to give me five extra records for my $400. As I was leaving, there were three other dealers pulling up into the guy’s driveway. At least, I had been smart enough to get there early and walk away with some nice records. Among the ones I recall: Clifford Brown and Max Roach at Basin Street; Mating Call, Tadd Dameron and John Coltrane; Soultrane; the Eddie Costa record with Bill Evans doing Guys and Dolls; a couple of Blakeys on Blue Note. Not bad for $20 apiece in near mint condition. I should have been happy, but instead I was kicking myself for not getting there earlier and for not having more money. I think I learned some lessons from this experience, but I’ll have to think hard to figure out what they were. I think the lasting lesson, and the one still applicable today: If you want the really good records, you better have some cold hard cash.

Record Shopping in Japan
By Mike Falcon

For most of my adult life I have been very interested in Japanese culture.  I love their movies, art, food, culture, and overall aesthetics.  I studied Japanese while in college as my obligatory foreign language and have traveled there a few times.  Something I have found very interesting about Japan is how they appreciate American and Western culture.  Japan is very different from America or Europe but as a society they have a very deep appreciation for key things from these cultures.  It was so amazing to me to eat various Western foods in Japan and find that the Japanese do Italian, French, Brazilian, and Spanish food more authentically than is available in the U.S.  I ate in a small Italian restaurant where the chef took pride in his Italian food on a level I think could only be found in Italy itself.  For me the Japanese appreciation of Western culture is most evident in three of “my favorite things:” Jazz, vinyl and baseball.   I will save you from my interesting and wonderful experiences with Japanese baseball and other observations because this in an article about vinyl hunting.

The Japanese, relative to the U.S., have a lot of record and CD stores.   I don’t believe they have suffered the same setbacks as the American record industries have, as the music store business seems much healthier.  In Tokyo you can find corporate-owned music and DVD stores eight stories tall that would take a day or more to explore.  These places were interesting but I found the small record stores

much more impressive.  There are specialty stores of all types. I found many techno and dance stores.  Then there are places like the first place I want to talk about, Disk Union.

Disk Union, in my experience, was a unique type of record store.  In fact it was not one store but 10 or more (I never could figure out exactly how many) scattered all over Tokyo.  Each store caters to a different genre and most of them are in the Shibuya district scattered over a few blocks on different floors of buildings.  In Tokyo, real estate is absurdly expensive.  Coming from Louisiana where New York and San Francisco real estate prices seem absurd, Tokyo is shocking.  A place the size of Amoeba Records in San Francisco just doesn’t seemed possible for an independent chain in Tokyo.  That’s why Disk Union is separated into multiple stores.  I first explored the Disk Union Jazz CD store, where used and new CDs were on separate floors.  I would say that 80 percent of the stock was American jazz and I noticed very little rare that I would want, the exceptions being the Japanese re-presses (the famous mini-lp sleeves) of a few CDs that are out of print in the U.S.  The only CDs I brought back from Japan where a copy of Rob Schimmer’s “Theremin Noir” which I had read a review of when it first came out but had never purchased before it went out of print (I haven’t enjoyed this disc that much, a case of the idea sounds cooler than the execution).  The other was a mini-lp sleeve edition of Lawrence Marable’s “Tenorman”.  I had seen the record go for very high prices but had never heard it.  It is currently out of print in the U.S. and I just figured I would grab it (one of the better decisions I’ve made, this album is unbelievable).  They were both around $10 used*.

Tokyo is the most difficult city to navigate I’ve ever traveled and finding these stores from a map was a pain but I found and went to four different stores, the last of which was the Disk Union that sold jazz vinyl.  I saved it for last because I knew I would spend the bulk of my time there.  The selection was pretty impressive, not on the level of the Jazz Record Center (my gold standard) in NYC but nice.  They would break out some of the bigger labels into their own sections.  I thumbed through the Blue Notes and Riversides to see lots of nice looking records.  Many were not originals, and the top-dollar originals were kept on display on the walls and behind the counter.  As I was browsing I would listen to the music played on the house stereo.  It was fantastic.  After I was finished browsing I asked about the music that had been playing.  The man at the counter showed me a shelf with a few records that were displayed behind the counter.  It turns out they actually have a small record label and promote a few other small record labels.  They play and then put the records on the shelf as a way of promoting their records.  I bought four records that were from their record labels.  Some I had heard.  I was looking for something more unique that I could not find back in the U.S. and these records were all great.

I had been to a few other record shops around Tokyo and Kyoto but none were exceptional, usually small used record shops that had a decent selection of mid-range collectables, lots of lower-tier used records, and a few high-priced gems on the wall displays, but none of these places was like the last place I visited – Hal’s.  I never understood where the name Hal’s came from as the father and son owners where Japanese. Hal is not a Japanese name but I didn’t really want to ask.  All I know is that I had never seen a place like this.  Hal’s is on the fourth floor of a building in a tiny room.  They had a couple boxes outside the door in the hallway of records for $1, but when I walked inside I was amazed at how they could put so many records in such a small room.  I would estimate that the room was 15’x15’ at most and there were records everywhere.  Again, I use Jazz Record Center as my gold standard but Hal’s has close to the same amount of records in one-third the space.  What was most impressive was the selection.  It was mostly mid- and high-tier collectibles.  I mean you would thumb through the Blue Note sections and there were so many first pressings.  I saw an original Blue Trane in VG+ condition in a bin for $500.  The top-tier collectibles where mostly on the wall and behind the counter. There were so many original Blue Notes, Riversides, Prestiges, Bethlehems, and other collectible labels.  There were a fair amount of Japanese and later pressings mixed in, which were going for less than their eBay rates but the top-tier collectibles were high priced.  A NM Mobley’s Message for $800, a NM Sonny’s Crib for $1200, and other similar priced beauties.  They also had a large collection of free jazz and avant-garde, which I looked through out of curiosity.  I knew that these were highly collectible due to not many being pressed and was awed at the prices.  I have no basis for comparison since I do not collect avant-garde, but they were selling for what I think is the upper level of what they would get on eBay, same with the Blue Notes.  I have never seen such a collection in one store.  I felt like I was in a museum.  Behind the counter the owner was talking to a guy that was either a buddy or regular.  They would play records and talk about them.  I tried to snoop as best I could but I have trouble understanding Japanese people when they start talking fast, but I know they were having a lively conversation about the records they were playing, none of which was familiar to me.  I really wanted to talk with the owner and pick his brain about some of the Japanese records that were going for hundreds of dollars.  I had never heard of the artists before and was curious.  Unfortunately, I never got much of a chance as his buddy was there the whole time and I didn’t want to interrupt.  I honestly wouldn’t have paid $500 for an artist I had never heard of, but was hoping for hints on more reasonably priced albums by Japanese artists.  I had to run though.

I hope to get back to Japan in the coming years and likely will do more record hunting.  It is a unique experience that I would definitely recommend.  There is a lot of jazz appreciation in Japan and in my mind jazz cannot be appreciated enough.  Whether it is in Asia, Europe, or North America anything done to keep jazz alive is a good thing and the Japanese are definitely doing their part.

*I have converted Yen to Dollars based on the exchange rate at the time because it’s easier for me.

• Cannonball Adderley. Well I have to start with two: In San Francisco and Know What I mean with Bill Evans.
• Art Blakey, Buhaina’s Delight
• Clifford Brown and Max Roach on Emarcy
• Dave Brubeck, Time Out
• John Coltrane. Cheating again: Taking one from Prestige, Soultrane; one from Atlantic, Giant Steps; and one from Impulse, which is between Ballads and  Live at Birdland and is Ballads because I listen to it more often and it is quite romantic and is adored by the lovely Mrs. JC, who celebrates her birthday today.
• Miles Davis. I’m cheating again because I can’t leave off either Kind of Blue or Porgy and Bess, two of my all-time favorite albums
• Eric Dolphy, Outward Bound
• Bill Evans, Waltz For Debby
• Art Farmer, Art on Argo
• Ella Fitzgerald Sings the Rodgers and Hart Songbook
• Stan Getz Plays (with Getz/Gilberto quite close behind)
• Billie Holiday, Lover Man
• Roland Kirk, Volunteered Slavery (for the live side)
• Jackie McLean, Swing, Swang, Swingin’
• Thelonious Monk, Criss Cross
• Oliver Nelson, The Blues and the Abstract Truth
• Charlie Parker, all of the Dials, collectively
• Oscar Peterson, West Side Story
• Sonny Rollins Plus Four
• Sarah Vaughan with Clifford Brown
• Lester Young, The President Plays

As noted, this is completely random, just browsing through my records on a lazy Sunday morning, and is not meant to be all inclusive or anything other than what it is. There are artists I love, such as Sonny Stitt, Charles Mingus, Art Tatum, and the others mentioned above where I have dozens of records, but none that particularly stood out when I looked at the collection this morning. Try it yourself, it’s actually a fun process.

It is at times like this when I wish I had a record store.

Then, on Sunday morning at 6 a.m., on what would have been Day Three of the WFMU Record Fair, I woke up startled with a clear revelation. I would

rearrange the records in my basement, and use the shelving I have downstairs to place all of my doubles and records to sell and I would sell them from my basement, a la my old friend Red Carraro. This way, I could get rid of records and also give the readers of Jazz Collector an opportunity to purchase them rather than selling them to some random bidders on eBay.

So I jumped out of bed at 6:05 a.m. on Sunday and began moving records. By the time I was done at around noon, all – or at least most – of my duplicates were on the shelves in the basement and all of the records that had been there previously were now in boxes and in a separate storage closet elsewhere in the house. My back was quite sore as well, but the task was nearly done. Many of the records have prices on them, many don’t, and they’re not quite organized the way I would like, but it’s a start. Someday soon I will announce on Jazz Collector the opening of these secret little basement shop and we will see what happens next. It will only be available for viewing on an appointment basis, of course. In the meantime, if any of you are going to be traveling in the New York area and would like to get a preview feel free to send me an e-mail: al(at)jazzcollector.com. I’m quite busy with work these days, but we’ll see what we can do. So Day Three at the WFMU Record Fair, even though I was not at the WFMU Record Fair, turned out to be quite productive anyway.