Vinyl Anachronist Gets Photo Credit, Hell Freezes Over

For years I've been taking flak on some of the photos in this blog. We're referring to my crappy photos of course, taken proudly with my cell phone with absolutely no attention paid to composition, lighting or even focus. Things have improved in the last couple of years--especially since I started using a smart phone. I even received a nice little Canon digital camera for Christmas last year, and I still haven't gotten in the habit of using it for blog photos. It's on my big long list of things I need to do right now.

To summarize: I'm a writer, dammit, not a photographer.

That's why I was surprised when I received an e-mail a couple of weeks ago from Andreas of the The East Bay Monthly. Apparently he was scanning Google Images for a photo of Amoeba Records in Berkeley for an article titled, "A Rebirth for Telegraph Avenue," which was written by Dave Weinstein. For some strange reason he settled on my photo from this blog entry from almost exactly three years ago.

Now I have been approached for photo permission a few times, but in each instance I had purloined the pic from Google Images myself--generally with credit given but no expressed permission. (I try to avoid that now, since it's viewed upon as kind of douchey. Andreas did it the right way.) This was the very first time that I could honestly say, "Yes, that is my photograph! Use it in good health, young man!"

After I gave my permission to Andreas, he asked me if I wanted him to send me a hard copy of the Monthly. I almost said no, that wasn't necessary, but then I changed my mind, perhaps because I thought it was all so whimsical. Yesterday I received a manila envelope in the mail, and enclosed was two copies of the August 2014 issue. My photo's in there, top of page 8, with credit given. They even spelled my first name with a "c" instead of the usual "k."

So thank you to Andreas and The East Bay Monthly for treating me like a pro, even though I'm the furthest thing from one. They seem to be a extremely classy organization.

A Visit to Amoeba Berkeley

No visit to the Bay Area would be complete without a visit to one of the greatest record stores in America, Amoeba Records in Berkeley. I visited the Amoeba store in Hollywood on several occasions, but I'd never wandered into the original location to the north. After receiving the somewhat distressing news that my favorite record store in the world, Millenium Records in Portland, may be closing its doors, it's comforting to know that this vinyl landmark is still thriving and offering an insanely complete collection of LPs to its customers.

Colleen and I had a couple of hours to kill before heading over to Yoshi's in Oakland's Jack London Square for some sushi and an evening of jazz with the Ravi Coltrane Quartet. That was torture, because I could spend days rummaging through Amoeba's aisles and two hours was quite simply NOT ENOUGH TIME. I had to ask myself the difficult question, "What LPs have I been looking for?" My first two choices, Wheedle's Groove and the new reissue of Neutral Milk Hotel's On an Aeroplane Over the Sea, were nowhere to be found, so I started speed shopping and came up with a handful of choices.

I wound up with the following LPs: Icky Thump by the White Stripes (I only had the CD version, and the LP version was remastered by Steve Hoffman and Kevin Gray at RTI), Attack and Release by the Black Keys (I'm working my way backward through their catalog) and Patti Smith's new album, Banga. I flirted with the idea of paying through the nose for a mono Parlophone pressing of Sgt. Pepper, but I ran out of time and had no idea where to look. (I hate asking for a help in a record store about as much as I hate asking a stranger for directions in the middle of nowhere.)

As I said, Amoeba is huge, and it would take dozens of visits to get a reasonable survey of their stock. I was impressed by their punk selection and toyed with the idea of grabbing a couple of LPs for my younger brother, but he doesn't have a turntable. (If it was on CD, he told me when I returned, he probably already had in it his massive music server files.)

Yes, Amoeba sells turntables according to numerous signs. But before you get all excited, I found three turntables--a $149 Numark DJ turntable, a $149 Audio-Technica and a $249 Music Hall USB turntable. Even Millenium offers a handful of Regas and Pro-Jects. That, however, was the only disappointing things about Amoeba. I can't wait to go back there with a little more time on my hands and a little more green in my wallet.