Local Music Spotlight
There comes a time in every baby boomer’s life when they have to face up to the grim reality: it’s time to sell your vinyl album collection. I have been buying and collecting albums for nearly 60 years. Many have seen me through good times and bad, several girlfriends, one wife, two kids, five dogs, five grandkids, three houses, a dozen or so cars, and at least eight or nine guitars. Some albums are like old friends and have given me great pleasure over the years.
Ever since I announced this past summer that I was selling my collection of some 2,000 vinyl albums, I have been besieged by friends and strangers alike with the same question. Why? Why sell all those albums you’ve carefully curated for so long? An interesting sidenote is that no women asked me that question. They’re just hoping their hubby will come to his sense, too.
Why? Here’s why. Have you ever seen a hearse pulling a U-Haul trailer? No. You can’t take this stuff with you when you go to that big record store in the sky or the delete bin store stocked with polka albums below.
Once I hit 70 last year, I was looking down the slippery slope. I have a will in which everything is divvied up fairly among my survivors. But it doesn’t include the extensive collection of records in my basement. Who gets them? More to the point, who wants them?
My children and grandchildren are aware of Grampy’s junk downstairs and have told me to a person that they don’t want my records nor do they want to have to deal with them once I’m six feet under. My wife is already planning what to do with all that vacant space.
Gone are the days when I could be guaranteed a degree of respect among like-minded record collecting aficionados for having in my possession the 1967 original mono album by Toronto’s Ugly Ducklings. Or enjoy bragging rights for owning a copy of The Beatles White Album on white vinyl. How about a sealed copy of The Nashville Teens Tobacco Road album from 1964. I was a very discerning collector and as a result, I have many rare or hard-to-find albums that I’m very proud of. But they all must go.
In the 1960s, the Canadian arm of Capitol Records created the 6,000 series to release British Invasion albums by the likes of The Beatles, Gerry & The Pacemakers, Billy J. Kramer with The Dakotas, Freddie & The Dreamers, Dave Clark Five, Chad & Jeremy, Yardbirds, Swinging Blue Jeans, and The Hollies to name a few. These albums were highly prized because they were unique in both cover photos and song selection from their UK and US versions. I have almost the entire collection. But there are fewer and fewer of us 6000 series collectors to share stories of our acquisitions with these days. Those albums will be on the chopping block. I’m pricing everything to sell, so prices will be reasonable.
I’ve spent the summer cataloging all my albums on a spread sheet in anticipation of the Sunday, October 15 semi-annual record convention held at The Centro Caboto Centre on Wilkes Avenue in south Winnipeg. With 2,000 albums, I won’t be able to sell them all in one go. I expect to man a table for a few more conventions before they’re all gone.
So, drop by my table and check out my wares. Don’t look for me to be teary-eyed, though. UK pop star John Miles once sang, “Music was my first love and it will be my last,” but I know my albums will be going to people who want them or may have been looking for them a long time. I’m giving them good homes and I’m satisfied with that.
