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7 June 2021 10:07![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
haptalaonRecord collecting update
Happy life news: my beloved Caretaker retired from music about four years ago, releasing a final six-part musical opus. Parts 4, 5 and 6 coincided with my being broke and homeless, this frightening chunk of time which meant I just couldn't get 5 and 6 (partly because 4 was a double album, and thus twice as expensive then I'd budgeted for). And then there was a brief cultural meme about the Caretaker which meant these records were suddenly even scarcer than they had been before.
I just happened to run across a CD copy of the Seasons for a fiver, which ??? genuinely astonishing, I guess it's been out so long nobody thought to check the record shop for it and everyone assumed, like me, it just wouldn't be available. I won't believe it until it's in my hands. & I'm especially excited for the booklet that comes with the text of the poems.
So while I had that in my cart, I thought "oh I'll just take a look at the Caretaker's site..." and well, they have a triple pack of Parts 4, 5 and 6 on vinyl. I am very excited. I feel an awareness that I should feel bad about the expense, but honestly missing out on the last two albums of the series has been a deep, sad memory for a long time, like the encapsulation in plastic of how unhappy it all was.
(& I've never been a fan of second hand markets as a thing, like these records go like hotcakes and resale for megabucks, and everything about that feels like a perversion; the concept of objects becoming pristine collectables rather than being available to people who want to enjoy them, the concept of finding $400 that won't even go to the artist, label or cover-designer.)
I loathe living where I do; I try and mellow out about the fact I can see four mountains from my window and hear owls at night and lean into my folk horror hobby, and I'm married to a druid-ranger and his dog and I
make hedgerow teas while I wait for them to come home from the forests; but I'm a city person at heart, and I don't know anyone within a 3 hour drive. But I do also love stuff; both the materialist sense of, I like owning objects, I like collecting, and more generally I like the pleasure of films and books and music, and of having beautiful things (& my interests are niche! Just going to libraries and charity shops won't cut it!) So yeah, I cannot deny that living somewhere so cheap & not feeling guilty about fresh bread and rare records and small-print zines feels nice.
This awareness that I should be guilty or worried about getting things is, I suppose, never going to leave. But I don't feel guilty, I feel like later this week I'm going to curl up with my headphones for 396 non-stop minutes of my favourite artist making unsettling drone sounds, and all will be well.
I'm going to fill my home with old, strange things.
Happy life news: my beloved Caretaker retired from music about four years ago, releasing a final six-part musical opus. Parts 4, 5 and 6 coincided with my being broke and homeless, this frightening chunk of time which meant I just couldn't get 5 and 6 (partly because 4 was a double album, and thus twice as expensive then I'd budgeted for). And then there was a brief cultural meme about the Caretaker which meant these records were suddenly even scarcer than they had been before.
I just happened to run across a CD copy of the Seasons for a fiver, which ??? genuinely astonishing, I guess it's been out so long nobody thought to check the record shop for it and everyone assumed, like me, it just wouldn't be available. I won't believe it until it's in my hands. & I'm especially excited for the booklet that comes with the text of the poems.
So while I had that in my cart, I thought "oh I'll just take a look at the Caretaker's site..." and well, they have a triple pack of Parts 4, 5 and 6 on vinyl. I am very excited. I feel an awareness that I should feel bad about the expense, but honestly missing out on the last two albums of the series has been a deep, sad memory for a long time, like the encapsulation in plastic of how unhappy it all was.
(& I've never been a fan of second hand markets as a thing, like these records go like hotcakes and resale for megabucks, and everything about that feels like a perversion; the concept of objects becoming pristine collectables rather than being available to people who want to enjoy them, the concept of finding $400 that won't even go to the artist, label or cover-designer.)
I loathe living where I do; I try and mellow out about the fact I can see four mountains from my window and hear owls at night and lean into my folk horror hobby, and I'm married to a druid-ranger and his dog and I
make hedgerow teas while I wait for them to come home from the forests; but I'm a city person at heart, and I don't know anyone within a 3 hour drive. But I do also love stuff; both the materialist sense of, I like owning objects, I like collecting, and more generally I like the pleasure of films and books and music, and of having beautiful things (& my interests are niche! Just going to libraries and charity shops won't cut it!) So yeah, I cannot deny that living somewhere so cheap & not feeling guilty about fresh bread and rare records and small-print zines feels nice.
This awareness that I should be guilty or worried about getting things is, I suppose, never going to leave. But I don't feel guilty, I feel like later this week I'm going to curl up with my headphones for 396 non-stop minutes of my favourite artist making unsettling drone sounds, and all will be well.
I'm going to fill my home with old, strange things.
