Happy Record Store Day!

Happy Record Store Day!  And welcome to the innaugural edition of my new blog, “Conscientious Dissonance; the rantings of an aging alternakid.”  I was going to start my blog in May but I couldn’t pass up the chance to launch on National Record Store Day. I have a lot of vinyl. I bought some new, bought some used, and inherited a lot.  My music collection is limited mostly by space.  I love records.  The local record store, however, is a dying breed.  Like other brick and motar storefronts, they’ve largely been pushed out by changing busness models as well as changes in music distribution and customer habits.  They are fewer in number but they are still vital.  If you have the option please got to your local independently-owned record store rather than buy it from a national chain, an internet giant or internet-based download service.  Go do it today.  I am going to.  If the store has cool staff you might learn something or get turned on to some great new music.  Yes there is great new music out there.  Stop laughing.  It’s true.  There is as much vital, exciting music being made as ever.  You just have to look for it.  I plan on helping some too.

Now about my blog.  This particular dispatch is more of an introduction.  Why am I doing this?  Ever since I was a little kid I loved music.  I still have great memories of my Dad playing Johnny Cash, Ray Charles, and John Lee Hooker records when I was very young.  I grew up listening to the legendary Kansas City album rock station KY-102.  The Dick and Jay show got my morning off to a great start every day before school. Randy Railey was the afternoon guy and Vaughn Mac was the overnight king.  Granted it was safe music but a kid in Independence in the 70s and 80s didn’t have readily accessible edgy music. 

It took my parents a while to figure out how to punish me.  Grounding didn’t matter.  They took away the TV, so what?  They made stay in my room, big deal.  Then they finally figured it out.  They took away my stereo and even my clock radio.  That worked.  I was, and still am, a music junkie.  My musical interests took off in some new directions as I went away to college at the University of Oklahoma.  No longer bridled by the standard fare I was accustomed to I listened to most everything.  It was an exciting time.  A four year stint in Austin, TX further cemented my passion for unique musical and artistic experiences.  I was truly no longer content with the standard fare.

The title “Conscientious Dissonance” is rooted in the fact that by nature or design (I don’t know which) I have usually been somewhat of a contrarian when it comes to music (and most art for that matter).  I like the beat of a different drum.  I have rarely been into pop music and my tastes have usually leaned towards the fringes.  I like some elements of choaos and dissonance in my music.  My tastes have evolved over the years.  Like everyone else I’ve gone through some phases but I still have pretty strong opinions about the music I like and the music I don’t like.  Music, like all art, is highly subjective.  It is so widely open to interpretation based upon one’s own world experiences that the phrase good or bad, is oftentimes a lightning rod for criticism.  Fine.  I may be right or wrong in your mind but since this is my blog I’m going to be right.

Like I said, I am a music junkie.  I am passionate about music.  It’s really my one true vice.  I especially love live music.  Nothing beats the energy of a great live performance. Now, I can’t play worth a damn.  I took piano for a couple of years but my lack of disipline (not practicing) kept me from getting better—sorry Mrs. Heckman.  I tried the saxophone in grade school band.  But that exercise in futility resulted in sounds that more resembled someone doing something inappropriate to a goose than anything Parker or Coltrane did.  I can’t really sing either.   Anyone sitting around me in church can tell you that.

So what gives me the right to critique anyone’s artistic endevors?  I do.  I am a fan, a  collector.  I’m an avid concert-goer.  I know what I like.  I have eclectic tastes.  I’ve been to hundreds and hundreds of concerts since my first show (Elton John at Starlight Theater in 1982).  I’ve seen everyone from Manheim Steamroller to Marilyn Manson, from Tori Amos to Slayer.  The main thing I look for in music, and this is key, are they playing like they mean it?  That’s what it boils down to for me. Do they mean it?  If I’m paying for it they damn well better mean it.

Much of my favorite music has an immediacy, an urgency.  It has a life of its own.  It’s kind of like it has to get this “thing” out of its chest or it’s going to explode.  Sometimes the explosion itself is the best part.  I’ve been thinking about starting this blog for some time now and I feel the time is right.  So thanks for allowing me to get this “thing” out of my chest.

As we roll merrily down the lane like a blind rhino on a bender I will be doing reviews of new music, concerts, revisiting lost musical gems, and general thoughts on music and society.  I hope you enjoy our little journey together.  I’ll be updating at least once a week.  Shoot me some feedback.  I’d love to hear from you.  Next week the reviews begin in earnest with something which evolved from a messed up situation.

Peace,

Chad Leabo