Surprisingly the most valuable record I own might not be a record at all but a CD.
A few years ago I bought a limited edition reissue of Syreeta’s first two, Stevie Wonder-produced, solo albums on a single CD which is now deleted and currently going on Amazon for $90 to a whopping $220 for a used copy. It’s not enough to retire on but, bugger me, that’s a lot of money for a CD — it would actually be cheaper to buy them both onvinyl.
God knows why both albums are so scarce and Motown hasn’t reissued them properly (especially since Syreeta died in 2004) because, apart from the fact that there’s obviously a market demand, they’re really superb albums, among the best soul records put out in the 1970s with some of Stevie Wonder’s (her husband at the time) most brilliant synth-soul production. I mean, I’m glad to have such a valuable CD but I think I’d prefer Motown to give Syreeta a bit more respect and it to be less rare and expensive. But that’s the kind of guy I am.
Though I have a record collection I’m not a “collector” if you know what I mean. I’m not a completist about any artist, not interested in spending lots of money on the acquisition of rare albums, and they aren’t kept in plastic sleeves in an alarmed, temperature-controlled room patrolled by guard dogs. But while I’ve never thought of my records like rare stamps or first-edition books I do sometimes get curious about what some of them are worth and look online to see what they’re going for. Not that I would ever sell them (never again!) but the way things have been going economically the past few years they might be more reliable investments than my retirement account, and if society goes to hell and money becomes worthless maybe I’ll be able trade them for food and petrol.
I reckon the indie post-punk records I have from the late 70/early 80s are the most likely to be worth a bob or two, and — at the risk of sounding like one of those dinner-party bores smugly droning on about how much his house is worth now — these appear to be the most desirable out of what I have from that era: Joy Division-wise, Unknown Pleasures on Factory with the original textured sleeve is worth about $25 and the Fast Records 12″ EP Earcom 2 featuring two rare JD tracks goes for around $30-$40 which isn’t too shabby. Singles-wise, The Pale Fountains’ debut “(There’s Always) Something On My Mind” on the Operation Twilight label sells for over $40 now, Aztec Camera’s “Just Like Gold” on Postcard Records (with the postcard insert) is going for between $40-$70, while The Native Hipsters’ bizarro “The Goes Concorde Again” will set you back $30-$70 — a pretty good return on records that cost me less than a quid when I bought them. Maybe I shouldn’t let my daughter play with those ones anymore.
It’s depressing to discover the current value of records I used to own and sold back in the 1990s (Bugger!Shit!) and I hope I’m never that desperate for money again. Of course my records have a “value” to me beyond any mere number but it does give one a certain smug satisfaction in knowing that your frivolous teenage obsessions do have some actual worth and all the hassle of moving them from house to house (to foreign country) over the years wasn’t for naught. This information might also come in handy when writing my will and trying to divide my assets equally between my children: “To my daughter I bequeath my original copy of Unknown Pleasures, and to my son Closer and the 12″ of She’s Lost Control…”
If The Clash’s debut album sounded like being hit over the head with a brick, Siouxsie & The Banshees’ was like being stabbed with broken glass. The screeching, fingernails-dragging-down-a-blackboard guitar sound on it seemed to literally have sharp edges and slash at you like Norman Bates in a bathroom. It was the first time I’d heard music that put my teeth on edge and made me feel disoriented and a little bit sick — but in a good way!
The term “Post-Punk” was actually coined to describe The Banshees and they were one of the first bands to show the way beyond the simple three-chord thrash into darker and more choppy waters, something I don’t think they quite get enough credit for. I can only assume that’s because important, pioneering bands aren’t supposed to have long and successful careers, and being tagged with the “Goth” label later on probably didn’t help — I know that whenever I’ve called anyone a Goth I haven’t meant it as a compliment.
It’s not often these days that I have the same reaction to records that my 16-year-old self did, especially the darker stuff (like all teenagers he was rather more serious than me), but “Jigsaw Feeling” still cuts me to ribbons with the same assaulting, slashing power it had back in 1978. When it’s over I have to check if there’s any blood on the floor.
The sentimental musings of an ageing expat in words, music, and pictures. Mp3 files are up for a limited time so drink them while they're hot.
Contact me: lee at londonlee dot com
