Happy Columbus Day! And in a shocking display of creativity, I'm celebrating by posting a song titled Columbus. I know, I know... try not to hurt yourselves following that giant leap in creative thinking.
I've made no secret over the years of my love for The Church, and somehow it's been three long years since I've shared one of their songs here. That's probably some kind of record collector misdemeanor.
As you can see from the Wax Trax price sticker still hanging onto the sleeve for dear life, I bought this one brand new for the princely sum of $1.88. Today that's the kind of money you find in the couch cushions and ignore. Back then, that was a major financial commitment. A purchase that required careful budgeting, soul searching, and approximately three trips around the record store to make sure there wasn't something even cooler lurking in the import bin.
The original lineup remains my favorite era of The Church: Steve Kilbey, Marty Willson-Piper, Peter Koppes, and Richard Ploog. To my ears, Columbus captures the band firing on all cylinders. The guitars shimmer and swirl like sunlight bouncing off a freshly cleaned record, and Kilbey sounds more confident and commanding than ever. It's one of those tracks that reminds me why The Church occupied such a permanent residence in my turntable rotation.
In true record-collector fashion, I couldn't stop with just the stock copy. The B-sides issued around the world were scattered all over the map, and I've included those as well, except for the promo 12-inch. Naturally, after I finished recording everything, I pulled that one out too. Because record collecting is essentially an endless quest to complete something that becomes un-complete the moment you discover another variation exists.
Normal people see a song called Columbus and listen to it. Record collectors see Columbus and immediately wonder, "Yes, but which edit?" That's why our shelves are full, our wallets are empty, and our spouses look at us the same way historians look at people who claim they found Atlantis in their backyard. Yet somehow, we wouldn't have it any other way.
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