In 1994, David Baker had just left Mercury Rev, the band he co-founded with Jonathan Donahue, and started a new thing called Shady. I was a big fan of the first two Mercury Rev records, 1991's Yerself is Steam and 1993's Boces, but I'd yet to hear the Shady record, World. Baker enlisted the help of members from some of my other favorite bands of the time: Bill Whitten (St. Johnny), Jimi Shields (Rollerskate Skinny), Adam Franklin (Swervedriver), Sooyoung Park (Seam), and Martin Carr (Boo Radleys), among others. In an interview that year, he talked about never having money for records growing up, and how his musical influences were all found in thrift stores and bargain bins. I remember being really excited by this. Not only because of the kaleidoscope of sound it conjured but also because I too scoured thrift stores and bargain bins for records and tapes during my formative years.
Our discretionary budgets back then were small, and cassettes cost around $10, while CDs were closer to $17. I remember the music industry titans at the time promising that the CD would soon cost the same as a tape, promising a cheaper CD. Instead, CDs stayed the same and the tape eventually edged upwards. LPs were all but gone with fewer and fewer new releases even appearing in the format.
Prohibitive pricing notwithstanding, buying music was always a risk. We might have heard a song or two from a friend or seen a late-night video, but most of what one might buy was unheard, a mystery that could turn out to be quite disappointing. I never knew when I was going to have enough money to buy another record, so in the event that I had money for a record in the first place, I had to hope whatever I was buying was good.
My friend Matt Bailie and I met through music in the ninth grade. He was talking about the first Metal Church record that had just come out, and I was spreading the gospel of Oingo Boingo. Every weekend we'd convene at his house to watch Headbanger's Ball on Saturday nights because the videos on that show represented "his" music and 120 Minutes on Sunday nights because it represented "my" music. For the most part, we hated everything they played on both shows, but once in a while there would be an old favorite, and less often, there would be something new we were into. More often than any other slot on the show, the last video on 120 Minutes was that new thing. I'd endure the whole two hours just to see what that last video would be. That's where I first heard songs by Pegboy, Primus, and Stone Roses.
Then as now, retail space in record stores is precious. Product has to move. If it's not moving, it gets extra incentive to do so. This means bargain bins. Typically located close to the front of the store, these displays were piled with releases the record labels were unloading at a discount or whatever stock the store needed to get rid of. A tape or LP at a fraction of the suggested retail price was too good to pass up. Subsequently I found many lifelong loves in those racks. Well known staples like Naked Raygun, The Jesus and Mary Chain, and Gang of Four were joined by lesser-known acts like Abecedarians, Devlins, and Bleached Black. These were complemented by cassette dubs, mixes from friends near and far, and the occasional full-price splurge on a new release. It was a weird blend of sounds, idiosyncratic in its breadth and fickle in its focus.
We knew so little about the bands we liked and less about the ones we didn't. We were starved for information. When I listen to new music now, I try to get back into the mind I had then. I try to listen to it for what it is--not completely without context, but with more of an ear for the sound than the discourse around the sound.
And I still check the bargain bins at every record store I go to, just in case.
My interview anthology, Follow for Now, Vol. 2 picks up and pushes beyond the first volume with a more diverse set of interviewees and interviews. The intent of the first collection was to bring together voices from across disciplines, to cross-pollinate ideas. At the time, social media wasn’t crisscrossing all of the lines and categories held a bit more sway. Volume 2 aims not only to pick up where Follow for Now left off but also to tighten its approach with deeper subjects and more timely interviews. This one is a bit more focused and goes a bit deeper than the last. It includes several firsts, a few lasts, and is fully illustrated with portraits of every interviewee.
“Relentlessly stimulating and insight-packed, Follow for Now is the kind of book I’d like to see published every decade, and devoured every subsequent decade, from now until the end of humanity.” — Maria Popova, Brain Pickings
The interviewees include Carla Nappi, Kristen Gallerneaux, Dominic Pettman, Rita Raley, Jodi Dean (by Alfie Bowne), Gareth Branwyn, Ian Bogost, Mark Dery, Brian Eno (by Steven Johnson), Zizi Papacharissi, Douglas Rushkoff, danah boyd, Dave Allen, Juice Aleem, Labtekwon, M. Sayyid from Antipop Consortium, Ish Butler from Shabazz Palaces, dälek, Matthew Shipp, Tyler, The Creator (by Timothy Baker), Tricia Rose, Sean Price, Rammellzee (by Chuck Galli), Cadence Weapon, El-P of Run the Jewels, Sadat X, Ytasha L. Womack, Bob Stephenson, Pat Cadigan, Mish Barber-Way, Chris Kraus, Simon Critchley (by Alfie Bown), Clay Tarver, Nick Harkaway, Simon Reynolds (with Alex Burns), Malcolm Gladwell, and William Gibson (by Kodwo Eshun).
Thirty-seven interviews deep, Follow for Now, Vol. 2 is a hefty collection of ideas and inspiration from some of the most important writers, artists, and thinkers of our time. It includes the first ever interview with Tyler, The Creator, one of the last with Rammellzee, and a lengthy discussion between William Gibson and Kodwo Eshun caps it all off.
Get yourself a pretty paperback or a FREE open-access .pdf from punctum books!
Thank you for your time and attention, and for reading, responding, and sharing.
More soon,
-royc.
http://roychristopher.com