I love this idea — an international celebration of indie record stores.
Record? What, you ask, is a record?
Some of us are old enough to remember 78s and 33s, not just cassettes or 8-tracks (really) or CDs or…downloads.
I have stacks and stacks of dearly beloved vinyl in a closet and our garage, desperately awaiting the day I have the spare cash to replace my long-lost stereo system with a kickin’ turntable and speakers.
I really miss my music!
The last CD I bought was purchased last month after a concert in Poughkeepsie by one of my favorite artists, South African singer Johnny Clegg.
The last batch of CDs I bought was last May, (far too long ago!) from a used CD store in Flagstaff, Arizona, on my way to the Grand Canyon. I found — and kept playing Elton John’s spectacular 1970 album Tumbleweed Connection — which provided the perfect soundtrack to where I was at the time, the American southwest, alone in a car.
I love the serendipity of browsing the bins, flipping through piles of vinyl and jewel cases, seeking something new, or something old, then listening to it obsessively.
One of my favorite memories dates back to my first newspaper job in Toronto, when a hip colleague and I ended up in the recently-closed Sam the Record Man. David pointed authoritatively to an album. “Buy it” he commanded; Lloyd Cole and the Commotions. I’d never heard of it and loved it.
Do you know the fab 200 film High Fidelity? One of my favorites, it’s set in a record shop in Chicago (originally set in London), and features another bit of musical nostalgia — creating a mix tape for someone you’re crazy about and hope to make a good impression on.
As I write this I’m listening to one of my favorite CDs ever, by a New York City duo that disbanded a decade ag0 — The Nudes. I love their voices, their quirky lyrics and the deep, delicious, unlikely instrument that defined them — a cello, played by Stephanie Winters, who then played with Walter Parks and now tours with Richie Havens.
I still have 100s of albums I acquired back when vinyl was the only choice, and haven’t heard them in years since the turntable and stereo system died. I miss my music!
Some of those bands or artists have long since disappeared. Whatever happened to The Dream Academy, and their great tune “Life In a Northern Town”? They toured only once, in 1991.
One of my absolute favorites is Tanita Tikaram, (who is, luckily, still playing and touring.)
Who’s your favorite dead-and-gone band? What song of theirs should I hunt down and why?
Being cheap is the new black, writes Daniel Akst in the Wilson Quarterly (you have to pay for on-line access), quoted in The New York Times:
To be thrifty, after all, is to save, and to save is not only to keep but to rescue. Thrift is thus a way to redeem yourself not just from the unsexy bondage of indebtedness but also from subjugation to people and efforts that are meaningless to you, or worse. Debt means staying in a pointless job, failing to support needy people or worthwhile causes, accepting the strings that come with dependence, and gritting your teeth when your boss asks you to do something unethical (instead of saying “drop dead”). Ultimately, thrift delivers not just freedom but salvation — which makes it a bargain even Jack Benny could love.
Margaret Wente, writing in The Globe and Mail, wonders how anyone — save the fortunate few with defined-benefit pensions — will actually survive retirement without a pile ‘o cash:
Because of imprudence, misfortune, a vast shift in cultural habits, or the sheer financial drain of supporting their kids until age 28, they are facing their old age with no savings, no pension and few assets. I have no idea what they’re going to do. All I know is that there are plenty of them. For the first time since we introduced old age pensions, millions of people who’ve led comfortable, middle-class lives are facing a big drop in their standard of living when they stop working. No more salmon teriyaki for them.
“A large chunk of the baby-boom generation is on the verge of retirement with only the state to depend on for a retirement period that will be, on average, the longest in Canadian history,” writes consultant Robin Sears in the magazine Policy Options. “We were pension pioneers. But we’ve lost our way.”
Whose fault is it that we don’t save like Grandma did? Is it ours, for crashing our savings rate below zero, and not being disciplined enough to resist the siren call of easy debt that’s been relentlessly marketed to us for a generation? Whose fault is it that we’re living longer than anybody has before, and screwing up the actuarial tables? Whose fault is it that the vast majority of us fail to save at least 10 per cent of our earnings starting at the age of 30, the way we’re supposed to? What about the single mom who’s put her kid through university, or the highly creative guy who is stupidly hopeless with his money, or the manager who got laid off at 57 and has to dip into his savings, or the millions of conscientious people who pay shocking fees to the investment industry to mismanage their RRSPs? Should we blame them, too?
You can see the problem here. Saving up for your old age is an individual responsibility. But helping you do it is a social one.
It would be nice if we could be more like the Chinese, who save 40 per cent of their money. That’s because they know they might starve or die from lack of health care if they don’t. The danger is that we’ll wind up like the Japanese, who suffered a huge economic hit in the ’70s and ’80s. Millions of retired folks were forced back into employment to support themselves. Former doctors took jobs as parking-lot attendants.
As someone self-employed, it’s not an issue I take lightly.
It’s a big pile of ifs: If my partner and I stay together, married or not, I’ll be OK, if his pension is still there; if Social Security pays out to us both what our statements tells us it will; if we keep saving 15% -plus percent of our incomes every single year; if our carefully chosen and diversified investments don’t tank; if , when we finally tap our accumulated capital, interest rates aren’t where they are now — a smack-in-the-face 1-2 percent on safe, secure holdings like CDs.
Now there’s a fair recompense for all that thrift!
If we bust up, it’s Friskies and a cardboard box for me! If I still own my home, and the mortgage is paid off, and if I can afford the monthly co-op maintenance fee, my only possible salvation from penury will be a reverse mortgage. Because my writing income isn’t nearly where I want it to be, and I can’t see suddenly doubling or tripling it for the next decade consistently, (believe me, I’m trying), my projected SS income wouldn’t get me through a month right now. There’s a comfy thought.
The old three-legged stool: SS, pension and savings is missing a leg — the pension — for most of us now. The second leg, savings, is a perpetual challenge when gas is $3/gallon and wages are stagnant or, in my industry falling to 1970s rates. Hey, change careers! Assume $10,000 to $75,000+ in student loan debt and cross your fingers that shiny new job market is all perky and welcoming when you graduate, competing with people willing and able to work at half the wages because they’ve still got five decades to save.
If they do save.
I recently interviewed, for my book, a single 51-year-old with a Master’s degree and $40,000 of student debt. Canned from her non-profit job a few years ago, she makes — wait for it — $7.25 an hour working retail. She couldn’t possibly save a dime and lives thanks to hand-outs from her 82-year-old mother. Her life is not quite what she planned.
One friend, 16 years my junior, is scrambling harder and harder and harder, like a hamster on a speeding wheel, to earn what she needs. Like us, she and her partner don’t even have kids. They are stylish and fun, but live very frugally.