Weekend Vinyl

A new series listening through my parents' vinyl collections. Featuring: Willie Nelson, Kenny Rogers, J. Geils Band, Crosby Stills & Nash, Rod Stewart, B.B. King, and a short discourse on moonshine

In my head it’s pronounced *Veekend Vinyl*, for the record (all puns intended). Think Dracula.

This is a new series I plan to do every few weeks or so, dedicated to working my way through my parents’ and parent-in-laws’ vinyl collections, which I recently acquired (aka stole) from their respective basements. It’s a pretty good mix - lots of albums that appear on every greatest albums list, others that are a little deeper in great artists’ catalogs, and still others I’ve never heard of in my freaking life. And of course, the occasional album that reminds me of childhood car trips that I can barely listen to without getting nauseous and can’t tell whether it’s an extremely minor childhood trauma or simply not good music (shoutout Meat Loaf).

With this unexpected vinyl windfall, along with my dad’s old record player from the 80’s that only needed a new needle and some cables to revive it, we’ve started a new tradition in my house of listening to one album from the collection every night while we’re making and/or eating dinner. It’s been fun, and there have been some duds and some hits. The albums I write about here won’t be only my favorites - rather, they’ll be the ones I feel inspired to write about, whether because I learned something, loved or hated something, or simply had an extremely delicious dinner that night.

I’m not some kind of physical media evangelist (yet), but there’s something undeniably cool about vinyl, and I’m setting out to figure out what it is for me. (Bonus read - check out Daniel Parris’

Stat Significant

, and his breakdown of the vinyl resurgence. It makes me feel better that even he can’t fully explain this phenomenon! Must be magic.)

Stardust - Willie Nelson

This album is a soft side of Willie Nelson that I’ve never heard before. It’s his 22nd album released in 1978, comprised of covers of pop standards that Willie chose as his favorites. It shows a range that both surprises me and seems to fit perfectly at the same time. It was apparently pretty popular when it was released, including Dean Martin, Sinatra, and Louis Armstrong covers arranged for Willie’s voice and guitar and little else in the way of accompaniment.

This is probably the most dinner musicky dinner music record I’ve played so far. It’s familiar and comforting, with Willie’s voice that’s aged like fine moonshine.

As an aside, do people outside the Southeast US know what moonshine actually tastes like? I’m truly not sure, even in 2024, if anyone in less redneck parts of the world has tasted the horrific bite of the classic “white lightnin” flavor of moonshine, which is less a flavor and more a description of the chemical composition of the stuff. The best versions taste like Everclear mixed with rubbing alcohol, but less smooth. The worst versions are to be avoided at all costs - assuming they’re not the dangerous kind that can literally blind you, they normally taste like all the worst parts of the flavor of dishwasher detergent. And then there’s Apple Pie, which is usually white lightnin’ with a few old apple cores and cinnamon sticks tossed in, maybe finished with some brown sugar if you’re lucky. I knew a guy named Derek who made it in his backyard, and actually knew what he was doing - his apple pie moonshine was revolting. I can’t even describe what apple pie moonshine tastes like. Ever throw up as a kid after eating apple sauce? That might be the best descriptor of the flavor.

OK, sorry, that was a lot and this isn’t normally a gross-you-out kind of newsletter. Moonshine seems to be a triggering word for me. Moving on.

Stardust feels like Willie is using his hard-earned and well-deserved privilege as a classic musician to pay tribute to the pop classics he’s always loved. And the love comes across loud and clear - he sings like a fan as much as a musician. It’s calming, with gentle acoustic guitar and loving renditions of old standards, and has a nostalgic feeling that’s more modern as well, as it’s Willie’s nostalgia in 1978 that we’re hearing and relating with all over again.

The Gambler - Kenny Rogers

 “The Gambler” is one of the most classic opening songs ever. “You gotta know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em.” It’s the kind of timeless countryfolk advice that will still be repeated a thousand years from now. It doesn’t do much to guide you into the knowledge of when it is, in fact, time to hold ‘em or fold ‘em, but hey, you undoubtedly have to know and there’s no disputing that fact.

The rest of the album was fine. The only other song that caught my attention was “The Hoodooin’ Of Miss Fannie Deberry,” which might have been from the title alone. I found the album just fine for dinner music, but I don’t think I’ll be revisiting it much beyond the title track.

Freeze Frame - The J Geils Band 

In my teens I would have sworn on everything I’ve ever known that J. Geils Band was from the 90’s. “Centerfold” was a 90’s staple in my mind, right alongside all the 90’s classics like “Two Princes” and “I Want It That Way.”

But no, this is the band’s 10th studio album released in 1981. I wasn’t even close. That just shows you the perils of growing up listening to a bunch of music from your time and from before your time all at once. It’s hard to separate new music from “new to me”. That’s a ton of fun, but if you’re ever going to do something silly like, I don’t know, write a newsletter about music through the years you might just have an issue with all these anachronisms that are programmed into your brain from a young age.

So, anyways, back to the analysis of this classic 90’s album. Wait, dammit!

There’s so much more here than just the title track. J. Geils Band

Daylight Again - Crosby Stills and Nash 

One of the rare albums I heard a hundred times on family road trips that I can still listen to and enjoy today. Something about songs like “Southern Cross” just puts me in the relaxed state of mind you need when you’re cooking spaghetti and drinking a glass of wine. These guys were the masters of harmony, and the songwriting on this album is absolutely stellar. An all-timer for me.

Every Picture Tells A Story - Rod Stewart

I’ll always associate the title track of this album with Almost Famous, my favorite rock n’ roll movie of all time. Rod Stewart’s voice is one of a kind, but I will admit I didn’t always enjoy his music. That’s not his fault though - I was introduced to Rod as an 8 year old by my guitar teacher, who for some reason decided he was going to teach me to play songs from Rod Stewart’s “It Had To Be You” album of American pop standards that sounded like they were from the 1920’s to my young ears, and I decided that Rod must be 1000 years old and super uncool. It took until my adult years to realize he was a rocker in his youth, and put out a bunch of great music like this album, although sadly not as many originals as I would prefer.

And truth be told, I picked up this album at a record sale at a brewery near my house, and it was a foregone conclusion that I’d love it.

Guess Who - BB King

This album was released in 1972, and includes some new tracks and some re-recordings of King’s older music. It’s something like his 20th album, but the sound is still as powerful and surprisingly fresh as ever. You could almost fool me into thinking this album was released 20 years later than it was. The King of the Blues sounds great on this album, even more so because my stolen version is in excellent shape.