Used Record Shopping In New Zealand

I recently spent a couple of weeks driving from Auckland to Queenstown in New Zealand with my wife and daughter. While not quite top to bottom, we covered about 1,000 miles of some of the most diverse and beautiful scenery in the world. It is fall in New Zealand, and we enjoyed wonderful, crisp autumn weather throughout our trip. I had been to Auckland about 20 years ago on business, and have a dozen or so albums in my collection that I picked up from a used record store at the time, including a very nice New Zealand pressing of the first album by Dire Straits. 

Since I've been on a vinyl buying spree in the last few months, I wasn't planning to spend much time record shopping down under. In such a beautiful country, it seemed a shame to spend much time indoors anyway. Plus, records are heavy, and I knew I'd have trouble getting a big stack of albums home without paying a hefty fee for extra baggage.

My restraint held out until we got to Christchurch. While driving through the city, we passed a van parked on the side of the road with a big sign that said: "We Want To Buy Your Used Records." The ad was for a shop called Penny Lane, and when we ended up with a couple of free hours one afternoon, I decided to stop by.

Good decision. Penny Lane is a fabulous record store with a huge stock in just about every genre. I started off in the jazz section, and quickly found 10 or so titles, including a couple of Dave Brubeck and Kai Winding albums that I didn't have. One of the neat things about foreign pressings are the differences in the jackets and labels from the U.S. originals. Dave Brubeck, for example, was with Columbia Records for the bulk of his career. Original Brubeck albums from the 50s and 60s are on the famous Columbia "six-eye" labels. 

Below are the cover and "six-eye" label from the US original 1957 release of Dave Digs Disney.

The New Zealand copy of Dave Digs Disney that I found is on the CBS/Coronet label, with a greenish tinted cover and a unique hexagonal  "stop-sign" label.

The back jacket states that the album was: "Manufactured for the Australian Record Company by Philips Electrical Industries of N.Z. LTD."

The sleeve is the old UK style, where the front of the jacket folds over and seals on the back, like the original Beatles Parlophone sleeves. The stamped matrix numbers on the New Zealand copy are exactly the same as as the original Columbia release: XLP42063-2C and XLP42064-2E, leading me to wonder if the New Zealand pressings were made from U.S. stampers? The New Zealand release also has hand-etched (and presumably) New Zealand or Australian catalog numbers MX 106399 and MX 106400 in the matrix. The New Zealand jacket is laminated on very flimsy stock, the kind also used for UK and other EU releases. I don't have a U.S. original to compare it to, but the NZ mono pressing is NM and sounds very fine.

Before I left, I took a quick look through the rock section. I picked up an original UK pressing of Ashes Are Burning by Renaissance on the Sovereign label. I have several U.S. copies, but have always wanted to hear the UK pressing. (It's better than the Capitol/Sovereign U.S. release.) Interestingly, the UK release has a slightly different cover, with band members Annie Haslam and Jon Camp smiling (and wearing different clothes), as compared to their more serious expressions on the U.S. release. (U.S. release is on the left below.)

I also found a New Zealand copy of the Emerson, Lake & Palmer album Pictures At An Exhibition, which also has a different cover than the U.S. and UK releases.

Both the original US and UK releases have empty frames, as shown on the right above. When you open the gatefold cover, the pictures appear on the inside. The New Zealand cover is not a gatefold, so apparently they just put the pictures on the outside. 

Finally, I found very nice New Zealand pressings of the Beatles first two albums, Please Please Me, and With the Beatles. Both were originally issued in 1963. In a previous post, I talked about the Beatles' original UK Parlophone releases, which some collectors think are the best sounding versions of all. Unfortunately I've never been able to acquire any of them, since they can easily fetch hundreds or thousands of dollars, depending on condition. So maybe the next best thing are New Zealand pressings? The two Beatles LPs that I found are on the black and silver Parlophone label. According to the jackets, they are repressings from 1978 and 1979 respectively. Both are near mint copies, with shiny vinyl and almost flawless covers. The prices seemed ridiculously cheap to me at only NZ $30 apiece (about $20 US).

I am happy to report that the vinyl is dead quiet on both, and the sound is outstanding. They are stereo copies, but are not like the awful early Capitol versions with vocals on one channel and instruments on the other. The NZ copies have a natural stereo spread and great texture and detail. I haven't done a comparison with the copies from the 2012 remastered stereo box set, but these Kiwi copies sound excellent.

Penny Lane in Christchurch had a good selection of New Zealand Beatles albums -- some with unusual covers and labels -- and I wish I had bought more. However, my suitcase was already bursting at the seams. Luckily for me, the very nice person at the check-in counter in Auckland attached a "Very Heavy" sticker to the outside and said she wouldn't charge me for the extra weight. 

Enjoy the music!

Chasing Trane - The Life of John Coltrane

I came relatively late to jazz. That is to say that while I have been collecting pop, rock and (to a lesser degree) classical music for more than 45 years, I've only gotten serious about collecting jazz in the last 10 years or so. Which is a shame, because if I had started sooner, it would have been a whole lot easier to pick up good copies of many of the classic titles that now command three-figure prices. And even better, since I was in New York City a number of times in the mid 1970s, I could have caught many of the great bebop artists in their prime -- if I'd only known.

Since I didn't spend my misguided youth going to every jazz concert within a hundred miles and obsessing over every guitar lick or drum solo the way I did with rock music, I find that I can't easily tell the great jazz players apart the way I can their rock counterparts. A guitar solo by Duane Allman, Jimi Hendrix, Eric Clapton, Jimmy Page, or Pete Townshend? I can name that tune in three notes. When it comes to jazz, not so much. Oh, sure, I can usually identify Miles Davis's distinctive muted trumpet sound (or could that be Chet Baker instead?), and McCoy Tyner's percussive piano style, but if you put on an album by a random jazz saxophone player, chances are I will not be able to tell you who it is. Hank Mobley? Sonny Stitt? Charlie Parker? Sonny Rollins? Cannonball Adderley? No, wait, maybe Stan Getz? I've tried to educate myself, reading the writings of the great jazz critics and jazz historians like Ted Gioia, Nat Hentoff, Leonard Feather, Ira Gitler, Ralph J. Gleason, Herb Wong, and so on. But when they talk about the incredible extended solo by so-and-so on a particular track, it never comes to mind the way, say, Duane Allman's soaring slide guitar on Layla pops right into my head.

Four fifths of Miles Davis's second great quintet

Of course, the reason I can more easily identify rock musicians is because I know much more about them. I closely followed their careers in Rolling Stone magazine (no internet in the 60s and 70s) and analyzed every note on their albums while playing them over and over on my stereo. I've read probably half a dozen Beatles biographies: I know when John and Paul first met, the first song they co-wrote, and who the other drummers were before Ringo came along. Of course it helps that the turnover in most rock bands was fairly limited. When it comes to jazz, musicians were constantly forming different lineups, popping up at each other's gigs and sitting in on recording sessions. Who can keep up with the players in Miles's second great quintet or the names of the cats in the third iteration of Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers?

I recently went to see director John Scheinfeld's new documentary about John Coltrane, called Chasing Trane. It's playing in limited release around the country. It is a fascinating look at the life and music of the legendary sax player. And it provides the kind of cultural and musical context that I lack when it comes to understanding jazz and jazz musicians.

Photo of John Coltrane by Chuck Steward

I feel a natural affinity for Coltrane, since I was born and raised about 20 minutes from High Point, NC, which is where Coltrane grew up. (He was actually born in the small town of Hamlet, NC, about 90 miles south of High Point.) 

Chasing Trane includes rare and archival footage of Coltrane performances as well as home movies of him with family and friends. But the real insight comes from a series of interviews that are interspersed throughout the narrative. Most of the interviewees are well-known jazz figures or family members who knew Coltrane well, including musical contemporaries Benny Golson, Sonny Rollins, and Jimmy Heath. A number of other people comment on Coltrane's life and work, including former President Bill Clinton and rock guitarist Carlos Santana.

It was fascinating to learn more about Coltrane's life and musical development, about his personal struggles and beliefs, his relationships with his two wives and children, as well as his relationships with other jazz musicians. Some reviewers of the film have complained that the documentary covers Coltrane's life very well, but doesn't leave enough time to actually hear his music. It's a fair point, but really, that's what records are for. 

As with any type of music, the way to better understand it is to better understand the musicians that made it. If you love the Rolling Stones, it's important to know how Keith Richards's and Mick Jagger's love of American blues music affected their music. In the same way, it's critical to understand Coltrane's lifelong spiritual searching in order to understand his music. 

Even though I'm listening to more and more jazz now, I still find it incredibly difficult to develop any real sense of familiarity with the music and the players. Especially compared to rock 'n' roll. The Beatles entire studio output was 13 albums, released from 1963-1970. That's it. Sure there are lots of outtakes and bootlegs and such, but you can easily sit down and listen to all 13 albums by dinner time if you want to. I could probably hum any song on those 13 albums from start to finish. And even longer-running and more prolific groups like the Rolling Stones or Chicago, where I definitely can't identify all the songs, seem a lot easier to get a grip on than most major jazz artists. 

Part of that, of course, is just the difference between rock and jazz. Rock songs -- at least a good percentage of classic titles -- are plus or minus three minutes long with catchy melodies and memorable lyrics. And it's just easier to remember a song that has lyrics. Jazz, by its nature, is improvised and ever-changing, even when playing the same song. Still, as I mentioned above, I can remember nearly every note of Duane Allman's instrumental solos, whereas recalling a particular solo by Miles Davis still usually alludes me.

Another big difference between rock and jazz is that many prominent jazz musicians played on hundreds of different album sessions with dozens and dozens of different musicians. And except for some long-running groups like Dave Brubeck's quartet, jazz groups were much more fluid than pop bands, with members constantly shifting and changing or getting together to record a one-off session. Even with all the personnel changes in the Allman Brothers lineup in nearly 50 years as a band, they're pikers compared with the laundry list of artists who passed through Art Blakey's Jazz Messengers. And compared to the Allman Brothers, who pretty much still sounded like the Allman Brothers from beginning to end, each time the personnel changed in the Jazz Messengers, you had a very different sound. In a rock context, it would be like if one month Keith Moon were playing drums for The Who, and the next month showed up to make a record with the Rolling Stones, and the month after that went on tour with Led Zeppelin. If he had done, it would be much more important to understand Keith Moon as an individual musician rather than his contribution to the sound of The Who.

Watching Chasing Trane drove home to me the importance of understanding the individual artists in order to understand jazz. And of course not just the artists, but the relationship between the artists and how the ever-changing group lineups affected their sound. Because when Coltrane played with Dizzy's band or as a member of Miles's second great quintet in the 50s, he was a very different artist than he was when he emerged as a the leader of his own quintet in the 60s.

Because of his seminal importance, Coltrane seems like a great place to start to try to get a better handle on jazz. So I've ordered a biography and a few albums to supplement those already in my collection. Maybe with some more dedicated listening, I'll be able to say, "Oh, yeah. That's definitely Trane."

If you're just starting out with Coltrane and want to catch up quickly, there is a great new box set of his mono releases on the Atlantic label. There is also an older, out-of-print set of the same releases (plus a few extras) in stereo, called The Heavyweight Champion. Rhino put out the stereo box, and some of the individual titles are available separately if you just want to hit the highlights. And of course, Cotrane's entire catalog is still available on re-pressings. 

Enjoy the (jazz) music!