45, 45, 45...

...and I can't get enough of them.

For those of you who are into those super-fast spinning wonders called "Compact Discs", I would like to introduce you to their slower, bigger cousin: The 45.

Called this because they rotate at 45 revolutions per minute (or rotations, whatever), these black dinosaurs are making a comeback at hip record boutiques where so-called bohemians sport salon haircuts and wear impossibly expensive clothes (but that's another subject). My father just so happened to collect dozens of them back in the late 50's and throughout the 60's, and I've taken it upon myself to rip them into MP3s and/or transfer them to those silver thingies I mentioned earlier.

The whole experience is breathtaking (and not just because of the black mold growing on them due to the flooded basement they lived in); It's like a journey through time. It's a slice of Edmonton's history. I get to listen to Wes Dakus (orignally from Mannville, Alberta) and his "Club 93 Rebels"-- By the way, Club 93, a radio station, was what all the kids listened to back in the day-- and CJSR regulars Willie and the Walkers (coincidentally, produced by Wes Dakus).

Blah Blah Blah.

I also get to hear all the scratches and pops that prove how loved and listened to these records were, and I get to smell the vinyl and rubber drive belt that spins these audible time capsules. I know, I'm one fuck of a loser, but I love it.

I also get to remember playing these very records as a kid on my own portable system, the very same system my dad used to carry around and show off his latest finds.

Sniff.

Anyway. It's good stuff. And I'm going to save them all. A-sides and B-sides. Shit and Classics. Common and Rare.

I have a headache from all the fungi (impending case of stachybotryotoxicosis, here I come), but excuse me, I think I have a heartache for the tunes.