Nova's Nine - Pain/Why Listen

Yesterday I went to the office for the first time in several months. Now, normally that sentence wouldn't qualify as exciting news, but this trip came with a side quest.

About six months ago I stumbled across a little junk shop on a secondary highway and asked the owner if he had any records. His answer was, "They're in storage and I'll try to get to them." Every time I'd stop by after that, I'd get the same answer, usually followed by, "Don't worry, I'll set them aside for you and won't let anyone look before you."

At that point I figured this was one of those promises that would join the ranks of New Year's resolutions, political campaign vows, and my washing machine repair timeline.

So, on my way home at lunchtime, I stopped again and asked if he'd found those records.

"Come with me," he said.

Those are dangerous words for a record collector.

We walked into the shop and he told his daughter, "The guy for the vinyls is here." Apparently I have now achieved a level of local fame where I am known simply as The Guy for the Vinyls.

He pulls back a tablecloth and underneath are milk crates of LPs, plastic totes full of 45s, and a footlocker packed with albums. His daughter says, "We were afraid you weren't coming back." Turns out they had been holding these aside for me for over a month.

The pressure was suddenly on.

I move a few lp's on top of the 1st 45 tote (Andy Williams and Firestone Christmas lp- not promising) and grabbed a handful of 45s from the first tote and the first two 45s I pulled were a Hank Williams MGM EP with the cover and a Johnny Cash Sun EP with its cover, both in surprisingly nice condition.

Before getting too excited, I asked the all-important question:

"How much are you asking?"

Anyone who's dug records long enough knows this is the moment where dreams either soar or get run over by reality.

"You can have them all for $50."

I probably handed over that money faster than a contestant hitting the buzzer on Jeopardy.

At that point I hadn't even looked through any of the boxes. For all I knew the foot locker was fifty pounds of Andy Williams and Firestone Christmas LPs with a few records sprinkled in for decoration. But I like the owner, he buys estates and auction lots regularly, and I wanted him to remember me as a good customer instead of the guy who haggled over fifty bucks.

I didn't have time to dig through everything until after work. One box of 45s turned out to be entirely promos. The Good. Unfortunately, many looked like they'd spent several years in a barn conducting weather research. The Bad. But they were old country, easy listening- The Ugly and that was good news. But in the other totes were some interesting Northern Soul, and a bizarre mix of 1980s rock picture sleeves alongside more Johnny Cash Sun EPs.

The LPs were a mixture of soul and country, easy listening, with many of the lp's in rough shape, but the footlocker held some pleasant surprises: late-'60s and early-'70s white-label promo albums by artists I've never heard of and, best of all, in pretty respectable condition. Those are the records I'm most excited to hear.

Will many of the trashed records be headed to the great recycling bin in the sky? Absolutely.

Did I find enough good stuff to make the deal worthwhile and share some records with friends? Without question- one box had 80s country 45s in wonderful condition and I have a friend who will groove on that.

Meanwhile, on the home front, my washing machine remains very committed to its retirement. The repair company appears to have devoted the same level of urgency to fixing it that sloths devote to NASCAR.

They've allegedly been waiting on a part for over a month. After repeated attempts to get answers that produced roughly the same results as shouting into a well. At one point I was about ready to channel Samuel L. Jackson in Pulp Fiction and start reciting the "great vengeance and furious anger" speech, although probably with a few modifications involving appliance repair and customer service. Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed and I contacted Electrolux directly.

Electrolux asked which part was needed. I told them that getting information from the repair company required skills usually reserved for hostage negotiators and archaeological expeditions. The shop had already informed me they couldn't get the part through Electrolux.

Funny thing about that.

Electrolux contacted them, found out the needed part, and promptly informed me they're shipping it directly to me next week.

So at the moment Electrolux has solved more problems in 24 hours than the repair company has solved in a 3 months. And let's be clear, this isn't exactly an endorsement for Electrolux. When a nine-month-old washer breaks down, we're already well past the point where anyone should be taking a victory lap. Credit where it's due: they stepped in, contacted the repair company, figured out the mystery part that apparently required the investigative skills of Sherlock Holmes to identify, and are sending it directly to me. That's more progress than I'd seen in weeks. Still, I'd much rather be praising a washer for washing clothes than praising a manufacturer for helping me navigate a repair process on an appliance that just celebrated its first birthday and only worked 3/4 of the year.

In the meantime, enjoy this one-off single from a North Carolina band. Some folks call it garage soul. I hear more soul than garage, but either way, nobody has to wait a month for a replacement part to enjoy it.