Evolution

Selling records for a living puts me in an awkward position at times.  More specifically when I am looking at buying someone's old record collection.  I can see the trajectory and growth of a person's musical taste and their level of interest in music through the years.  It can make me feel uncomfortable when things go off the rails or stops dead in its tracks.

Sometimes I will see the entire length of their music buying life.  Of course people started buying CDs in the 80's and 90's but when I can plainly see their CDs placed on a small shelf I know their buying habits didn't grow after the switch in media.

Their earliest albums are the most worn and battered, often they have their name prominently written on the cover, in their child scrawl penmanship.  "I think that may have been the first album I bought.  I got it at Woolworth's." is a common comment while they are looking over my shoulder as I thumb through the crate.  "It's hard to beat {fill in the blank}" is how I usually respond, never condescending, never judgemental, no matter how bad the band was.

Sometimes I find a run of 70's and 80's heavy metal or southern rock.  Sometimes it's a run of light top 40 pop.  Helen Ready, Dan Fogleberg, Molly Hatchet, Nazareth.  They all show up.  I just deal with it.

There are some good scores though.  Someone might have been a bit twisted in their youth and I'll find a wonderful stash of garage and surf rock.  There is always an aficionado of classical with an amazing selection of scarce private recordings or obscure imports.  Some quiet attorney or Doctor with a robust taste for jazz in the days when Eisenhower was President.

I can bring any of these collections home, sort them, and ultimately find the progression of their interest.  The earliest albums are the most common recordings, or the ones with the covers that show the most wear.  There will be the early signs of reaching out, testing artists of different flavors, perhaps a few cross-overs in tone and content.  The collection will suddenly veer into one area and often, it stays there.  One artist struck a nerve and after that album, the course was set for their ship.

There is always an end point.  The most recent album and the last in chronological order.  It is at that point where they no longer bought LPs.  They may or may not have branched into CDs, but the end point for their vinyl buying days can be seen and noted.  Sadness comes to me when I can tell their interest in buying music completely ended at that point.

Perhaps the disposable cash dried up?  Perhaps there was a marriage and children and the time or interest in listening to new music ended?  Perhaps their interest in music completely ended?  Like a love that has wilted and died.

It is the moments of finding gold where I feel good, and they happen just often enough to keep me going.  A person may have stopped loving their music, but when the interest was genuine and heart felt, it is obvious.  I can't entirely fault a person who found music they truly felt spoke to them, even if was bad, or just something loud and rocking to put on the turntable when they were smoking dope.