Mighty Bob

Anyone remember audio cassettes? They were a popular audio media format of the 20th century. Call me a crazy dinosaur pack rat nostalgiac, but I have two small shelves-full of them, consisting mostly of:
-mix tapes I made from CD and vinyl for myself or for others between 1992 and 1996, but never gave away
-college radio shows I was a part of (including the comedy programs created by my ensemble of friends; country, jazz, and rock formats; and the multi-source freeform soundscapes I made so many of senior year)
-audio masters from college A/V projects which I would I prefer to forget (one starring future SNL castmember Seth Meyers – a sweet guy in my book!)
-mix tapes given to me by friends and girlfriends going back to about 1989.

Whoa! Will my notes from library school be as interesting ten years from now? Will they take as long to go through? Because, in retrospect, audio cassettes are a hideously cumbersome format to use.

Anyway, I was just looking at these tapes for the first time in probably 8 or 9 years. One mix to catch my eye (and ear) reflects what I was listening to in high school, and it included two songs by The Three Genres, a local lady-fronted art-punk band, that I probably haven’t heard since 1992. I’ll confess that I didn’t even recognize the name of the band or the names of the songs. But of course as soon as I heard the notes (and the art punk lady voice!) everything came rushing back! This band apparently never quite made the leap to CD, digital download, or file sharing, because no amount of searching The Internet turns up more than a casual reference to them.

And I also found a taped copy of the entire eponymous Colorblind James Experience album, which I must have taped from WNUR’s LP copy sometime just before graduating. CBJE were a real motley crew of local heroes – the only Rochester band I know of to record for John Peel – who played a quirky laid-back polka-country-swing jazz fusion. Of their six or seven albums, I only thought I owned three on CD, but apparently I’ve had this one on tape all along. Huh.

Well, I don’t think I’m building to a point. Mostly I’m just blabbering because Luke seems to want me to post more often. But if I did have a point, it would be to support your local music scene, because it is precious, and quickly goes out of print. And, that if you are going to build any kind of collection in any kind of media format, remember to keep some playback devices around. You don’t want to wind up like NASA, with warehouses full of old punchcards but no ENIAC that can read them. Your mint-condition Adventure needs not only an Atari to run it, but a television with screw-on antenna inputs to play it on.

I’ve had this extra 36 hole unicycle hub sitting around my spare parts bag for a couple of years now (ever since a Rat Patrol project went awry). A really big part of me wants to buy a 36″ rim and 36 spokes and actually build out a big fixed wheel that could be the basis for a home-made pennyfarthing (“highwheel”) bike. I figure I’ll use bamboo for the frame – I think I have an idea for cutting and splicing it into a slow curve using glue, metal fasteners, and, if necessary, foam core). The only thing stopping me (besides the fact that I never get any of my Crazy Schemes started) is that for probably less than the price of the rim, the spokes, the forks, the bearings, the headset, the bamboo, and the rear wheel, I could probably just buy a $900 boneshaker reproduction, and save myself the frustration of doing everything wrong.

On the other hand, if I wussed out and bought the reproduction, I’d still have this 36 hole unicycle hub sitting around the spare parts bag. And what else could I do with it?

A couple of days ago, I shared what had for a long time been one of my favorite paragraphs in English. I’ve been thinking about that paragraph a lot lately, ever since reading the following paragraph, which I’m nearly certain has taken its place. (Or, as Bill Cosby would put it, “I told you that story so I could tell you this story.”)

Augustine Mulliner, a vicar with a sideline selling the efficient tonic Buck-U-Uppo, has been paid a midnight visit by his Bishop, much animated, who has subsequently borrowed from Augustine his Sindbad the Sailor costume.

As the door closed behind his guest, Augustine was conscious of a definite uneasiness. Only once before had he seen his spiritual supervisor in quite this exalted condition. That had been two years ago, when they had gone to Harchester College to unveil the statue of Lord Hemel of Hempstead. On that occasion, he recollected, the Bishop, under the influence of an overdose of Buck-U-Uppo, had not been content with unveiling the statue. He had gone out in the small hours of the night and painted it pink. Augustine could still recall the surge of emotion which had come upon him when, leaning out of the window, he had observed the prelate climbing up the waterspout on his way back to his room. And he still remembered the sorrowful pity with which he had listened to the other’s lame explanation that he was a cat belonging to the cook.

-P.G. Wodehouse, “Gala Night,” Mulliner Nights (NY: Vintage Books, 2005). Originally (London: Herbert Jenkins, 1933) and (NY: Doubleday, 1933)

If you don’t read Wodehouse, why don’t you read Wodehouse?