Ahem.

I will answer the question directly and then go into some level of explanation. Since the launch of what I affectionately called The Great Jazz Vinyl Countdown almost exactly a year ago – September 29, 2009, if anyone would like to go back to the archives – I would say that my “collection” has increased by about 50 records, while the number of records in my house has grown by several hundred, at least.

I distinguish between my collection and the number of records I own because I still have intent to get rid of many records, but I also realize that in the past year I have added records to my collection that I did not previously own. For example: A few weeks ago I received a call from a lady who knew an older guy who lived in Coney Island and he had some old records and he was not on the Internet and could I help this guy possibly get rid of his records. So I called the guy and he said he had a bunch of old jazz records from Duke Ellington, Benny Goodman and Count Basie. I’m thinking, nah, not even worth the trip to Coney Island. Then he mentions Wardell Gray and all I can see in my mind’s eye are the two Prestiges and the next thing I know I’m on the Belt Parkway heading toward Coney Island. He had about 60 records, mostly junk, except . . . the Wardell Gray was an original pressing of Way Out Wardell on Modern Records, which I didn’t own, and there was an early pressing of Dexter Blows Hot and Cool on Dootone, which I didn’t own, and several others and all of a sudden there are a few more records in my collection.

Anyway.

The idea of The Great Jazz Vinyl Countdown was to stop buying and start selling. However, several things have happened in the interim:

1. For a while I was selling records consistently on eBay – 30 records or so every week, like clockwork. But then my real business – I’m doing a lot of corporate consulting and what I call corporate writing – suddenly took off and there was no time or energy for selling records on eBay. So that stopped in March and I haven’t been back.
2. The other thing that happened is that Jazz Collector starting getting more traffic and higher rankings on Google and I’m getting calls all the time – such as the one with the Coney Island records – to help people sell or evaluate their collections. There was the guy in New York who was moving to California and he had 600 records to sell and he was in a rush and I offered him $800 and suddenly I had 600 more records in my house.

I do, however, have hope for at least getting back to where I started. I’ve signed up for the WFMU Record Fair next month, and I’m planning to bring at least 1,000 records or so. If I can get rid of 300 I would be thrilled. I also have a bunch of records in storage I would love to sell in bulk for a low price. In fact, if anyone is interested, let me know. The records are here in Western Long Island and, as I said, I would let them go cheap just to get rid of them.

So, Rudolf, I hope that answers your question and I hope, perhaps, to someday get back to the Great Jazz Vinyl Countdown and actually count down rather than count up.

for several hundred dollars apiece in decent condition, which is hard to justify when, in fact, I am supposed to be scaling my collection down. Anyway, I came across a VG copy on eBay and there were no bids and the starting price was $50 and I said to myself, what if I put in a bid of $50? What would be the harm in that? So I put in the bid and I won. The record arrived today. It is a legitimate VG record in that it has plenty of marks and scuffs. Yet . . . on the turntable, aahhh, bliss. It sounds great. Is there a little surface noise? Perhaps. Would I rather watch this one spinning and hear the sound out of my speakers from a West 63rd pressing and know that this record has been properly played and enjoyed — versus having a later pressing with no surface noise? Hey, this site is Jazz Collector, is it not? So Bluesnik — the VG one with the West 63rd label — says in the collection in an exalted place while the blue label Bluesnik is on its way to eBay.

I’m forcing myself to decide. I put the double in a pile to sell and as I was taking the picture this morning, I noticed the sticker on the front: Dayton’s $1.39. Talk about nostalgia. Dayton’s was one of the first stores in New York to recognize the jazz collectibles market. They had a store on 12th Street and, when I was starting out as a collector, there was no way to purchase records there: The prices were just too high. If I recall correctly, they were selling used Blue Notes for more than $50 and $100 back in the 1970s, when you could just go into a store and buy a later pressing new and sealed for just $5. How little I knew, unfortunately. They also had an outlet store on 8th Street but, even there, the prices were high or the quality was poor. So, to see a 10-inch Sonny Rollins LP with a Dayton’s price tag and a price of $1.39, well, that would be quite unusual. But then again, I do have two copies of the record, and the one in the Dayton’s cover doesn’t play well. I could swap covers, but the other cover is much cleaner. What to do, what to do? I just decided. I’m doing nothing: Keeping both records for now. What’s the rush? There are plenty of other records to sell and I have plenty of time to decide. There, that was easy. If I change my mind, I’ll let you all know and perhaps offer the duplicate copy for sale on Jazz Collector.

to hear theories and/or explanations. One possible explanation could be the absence of Mr. Van Gelder. I have the record on the turntable now and there is definitely a difference in sound between this and the Blue Notes — although, to be fair, my pressing is a stereo copy, which means it is probably a second press and was probably not recorded originally in stereo. It’s an interesting record. Mobley is on half the tracks and George Coleman is on the other half. There is no piano, which gives the musicians more room, but it also makes it more caustic, at least to these ears. Dorham does particularly well in this environment, but he was always excellent, right? In any case, in the process of deciding records to keep versus records to sell this one . . . . will be kept. Of course.

oh yeah this a great record and oh yeah this is why I love Dexter Gordon and oh yeah this is why people go nuts over Blue Notes. This was Dexter’s first Blue Note as a leader and it really marked the beginning of his return to prominence after years of obscurity. The liner notes, by Ira Gitler, are prescient. At one point, Gitler notes that Gordon’s “presence has not been directly felt on the jazz scene as a whole in a long time.” At another he notes “the ’60s are a decade of new promise for Gordon.” Who would have expected even then that the rest of Gordon’s career would have catapulted him to such fame and renown, and who would have expected the kind of brilliant creative output that marked the rest of his days. There is definitely a joy in this album and a kind of sense of Dexter saying “I’m here.”  There is a power and masculinity in his playing and confidence and brilliance of ideas, right from the beginning of his first solo. I will not get into a review: I would suggest you listen to the album yourself, even if you have to listen to it on CD. In any case, as I go through my Great Jazz Vinyl Countdown, this record is not going anywhere.

Friends, my name is Al and I am a vinyl addict. It is necessary for me to confess once again because I have had yet another setback. Remember my mission to pare down my collection, which I have labeled The Great Jazz Vinyl Countdown? Well, as part of that endeavor I decided it would be wise to take inventory of my records so that I would know what I actually have, in intimate detail: Record, condition, provenance, value. I had never actually done this before, so yesterday I set up a spreadsheet and began the process. I started, naturally, with the Blue Notes, the 1500 series, Blue Note 1501, Miles Davis Volume 1. I pulled the record off the shelf, looked at the record, cleaned it, typed the information into the spreadsheet, put it back on the shelf and then pulled the second record, Blue Note 1502, Miles Davis Volume 2. Same deal: Looked at the record, cleaned it, wrote it down, then moved on to the next record.

What a mistake.

I was moving along fine through the first eight records in the

Blue Note 1500 series. I had all of the records, and they were all original pressings. Then I got to Blue Note 1509, Milt Jackson and the Thelonious Monk Quintet. I was sure I owned an original pressing of this and was breezing along confidently when I pulled the record off the shelf. Then I took it out of the sleeve, and looked at the label, and horror of horrors, what I saw was quite alarming.

I did not see 767 Lexington Avenue in beautiful script. I didn’t even see 47 West 63^rd. Nor did a see a deep groove, nor did I feel the weight of heavy vinyl. What I saw was a label that had the address: New York USA. And my heart sank, and I looked down at the record, then looked up at the shelves in my room, where there are at least 3,000 records, and I thought to myself: “How can you call yourself a Jazz Collector when you don’t even have an original pressing of Milt Jackson and the Thelonious Monk Quintet, Blue Note 1509.” And then the old adrenaline kicked in as I obsessively, manically pulled Blue Note after Blue Note off of my shelves and once again I felt the familiar feeling of Jazz vinyl addiction pulsing through my veins.

What happened next? Stay tuned.

we are viewing things through a different perspective. There was a time when we dreamed of owning the entire Prestige yellow label series, all yellow labels and originals, of course, but wisely we abandoned that dream when we realized no one should own that many Jack McDuff or Eddie “Lockjaw” Davis LPs, nothing personal against those fine musicians. Then there was the thought of owning just the 7000 and 7100 series, but we put that one aside as well. So, without either long-term goal, does it still make sense to own at least two copies of the same music when we can certainly only listen to one at a time. The answer is . . . no, it does not. Thus, we are going to put Early Miles on eBay today, with a start price of $30 and we are going to assume it is going to wind up in the hands of a collector who either appreciates the fine music or is still pursuing the dream of an entire collection of yellow-label Prestiges.

Horace Parlan, Us Three, Blue Note 4037. This one happened during the course of trying to uncover the Nautiluso Jazz Vinyl Fraud. I was talking to one of the buyers who had been scammed. He had told me he had gotten his money back, so he was pleased on that account, but somewhat disappointed: He had really wanted the records. We talked a bit about his collection and what he was looking for and he mentioned this record. Again, I knew I had a nice original pressing, not quite mint condition, but fairly close, a solid VG++. This has sold for as much as $1,725 on the Jazz Collector Price Guide. He asked if I’d be willing to sell it. I said I probably would: For the right price. He said name a price. I named $1,500. He said “sold” without a second of hesitation. So I sold an original Blue Note right out of the collection, with no duplicate copy and miniscule hope of ever getting that record back for a reasonable price, in the same condition. What this means, I guess, is that nothing is sacred: For the right price, I’d probably be willing to sell any record out of my collection. It’s just a matter of finding the right price. That is quite a new, mercenary, attitude around here and it actually surprised me that I was willing to sell an original Blue Note, which I love to own and look at and fondle and occasionally place on the turntable, in exchange for cold hard cash, or whatever it is you receive on Pay Pal.

just listing it as the Cafe Bohemia and not “featuring Cannonball,” , just figuring that Savoy would have tried to capitalize later on Cannonball’s growing fame and success. However, the other one feels more like an original cover because there’s no white background and it just seems older. Under normal circumstances, I’d keep that one regardless — it’s a much cooler picture, with Paul Chambers in his undershirt, everyone surrounding Kenny Clarke, Horace Silver in a striped polo shirt. My dilemma is that my copy of that cover is not in very good shape. It has a couple of bad tape repairs and a name written on the back. What to do, what to do? Well, there’s no rush on this Great Jazz Countdown of mine, so I’m going to sleep on it for a day or so and then make a decision. Or not. How’s that for ambivalence?