So the other day I picked up, among a few other esoteric records, a copy of Sonny Bono’s album, Inner Views. Panned at the time, hipsters and cognoscenti have reappraised the album, calling it a misunderstood masterpiece, a peculiar psychedelic artifact, and a brilliant piece of outsider art made by the ultimate insider. Frankly I wouldn’t go that far, but it is an entertaining listen, and I can imagine myself spinning it again. I put it up on my shelf under “S” for Sonny, awaiting my next listening perhaps in the next four or five years. Some would, and have said that that is not proper organization.
Record collecting has to be a sign of mental illness. I say
this as an avid music fan and rabid collector himself, though my collection of consists
of just under a paltry two thousand vinyl LPs, and about a thousand CDs. This
is not a humble brag; this is simply to illustrate that, in the scheme of
things, I am only a mild obsessive. I am usually content with one copy of an
album, as opposed to ensuring that I have every different new edition on every
format that I may or may not have the ability to play. I suppose I just don’t
care enough about music. After all, my set up is not equipped to play 8-Track cartridges,
78 rpm records, or wax cylinders.
I am a member of several fan groups on social media, and it seems that a major pastime of many participants is to take pictures of their collections, showing just how many copies they possess of each release. They make me seem quite tame by comparison. (I will confess that I have owned five copies of Huey Lewis and The News’ Sports. I am not obsessed, it just happened that way, replacing copies that were destroyed on the floor of my mom’s car, finding a copy for fifty cents in the cheapo bin to replace both of those lost or fucked up cassettes, later finding a CD in a thrift shop so I could get the album onto my iPod, and the later fining myself in possession of a Mobile Fidelity Sound Lab LP just because one of my Mom’s friends was getting rid of some shit… But I digress.) However, I speak primarily for myself when I say that there is a connection between compulsive obtainment and obsessive organization. The temperament must lend itself to both habits, and that it is also quite fortunate. Imagine having thousands of records and not knowing how to find any of them in that giant mess.
There is a scene in the film High Fidelity, a movie that I both love and abhor, in which two of the obsessive collectors compare notes about organization. The protagonist explains that his organizational system for his records does not follow any conventional rules, but is pure idiosyncrasy tied to his own neuroses and nostalgia. “I can tell you how I got from Deep Purple to Howlin’ Wolf in just twenty-five moves. And if I want to find the song “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac, I have to remember that I bought it for someone in the Fall of 1983 pile, but didn’t give it to them for personal reasons.”
Hey, as long as he can find what he’s looking for.
Personally, I go Genre → Alphabetical by artist →
Chronological within artists’ catalogs. It sounds specific, but it already
leaves too much room for interpretation. For example, for bands that release a
lot of archival material, do you sort it in the order of recording or order of
release? You may laugh, but you try to figure out a consistent logic when
dealing with a band like the Grateful Dead and their copious amounts of live
releases, both contemporaneous and retrospective, their Dick’s Picks, Dave’s
Picks, and Road Trips. How are you gonna find that Ithaca show that everyone
always raves about?
A needle in a haystack
In polling other record collectors, I have found basically two basic
methods: The Library Method and the Record Store Method. The Library Method is
pretty self-explanatory and is pretty close to what I do. The Record Store Method
is a bit more idiosyncratic. Now, when I’m talking about a record store, I mean
a proper record store. I don’t mean a Sam Goody, or HMV, or Strawberries, or
any of those other places that stopped existing around the time iTunes became a
thing. I’m talking about a place that sells used vinyl and has, well, geeks
like me behind the counter.
The record store method groups things together that are connected
in other ways, usually collecting side and solo projects alongside a parent
band. Example: Were you to walk into Bleecker Bob’s (okay, you can’t do that
since that’s gone too) or Academy Records in New York, you would find albums by
Mike and The Mechanics, Anothony Phillips, and Peter Gabriel under Genesis. Is
this good for Genesis fans? Sure. Is it somewhat disrespectful of the artists (particularly
those who had left the band) who doubtless want their solo work to stand on its
own outside of the band? Also, yes. Is it annoying for Phil Collins fans who won’t
find their favorite artist under “C,” the logical spot for it? Once again, yes.
The Record Store method presupposes knowledge of music and groups.
That is its major flaw.
What are the flaws with the Library Method? Well, aside from the
chronology issue (largely not dealt with in actual libraries), there is the
opposite problem when it comes to grouping. Here are some examples to bend your
brain. Where would you file Iggy Pop? Probably under “P,” right? Now where
would file the Stooges? “S,” obviously. Now where would you file Iggy and the
Stooges?
Here’s an easier one: Where do you file The Modern Lovers? Where
do You file Jonathan Richman & The Modern Lovers? I consider that one easy
because the Modern Lovers were a unique band that was fronted by Jonathan Richman
that existed between 1970 and 1974, whereas Jonathan Richman later resurrected
the name for his ever-changing backing band in 1976. Not the same, and not in
the same place on my shelf.
Am I insane for even dwelling on this? Probably. Welcome to the
mind of a record collector. Fortunately, I am not alone. A record collector’s forum
that I frequent yielded comments such as:
“File it where you’ll remember it. My Mott the Hoople records are all under H for Ian Hunter, all of the solo Beatles have their own section by their last names (and yes, “Wings” is under “M”), all of my Funkadelic, George Clinton etc are under “P” for “P-Funk”. I would never argue to defend my choices. I just know that my collection is big and I don’t want to waste time hunting for albums if I don’t have to.”
“I struggle with alphabetization too. My Johnny Thunders and the Heartbreakers are all under T, as is Johnny’s solo stuff. And, in violation of several laws I am sure, I have Iggy Pop solo and Iggy & the Stooges all under P. Blasphemy, I know, but at least I can find them.”
“I’m so OC, I file it by year recorded, then within each year, geographically east to west, north to south. Try it! It’s great for context[.]”
I’m pretty sure that last one was a joke.
So why did I file the Sonny Bono album under S? Because in spite
of the fact that most of us know the former Congressman and Mayor of Palm
Springs as Sonny Bono, he released this album, his sole solo release, under the
mononym “Sonny.” If he released any other albums under his surname, maybe that
would be a different story. As it is, it sits on the shelf next to Look at Us,
by Sonny and Cher.
I feel good about this decision.
