My eyes darted back and forth between two items on a sparsely populated shelf of records at the downtown Los Angeles Target. I couldn’t decide which one was more offensive. Was it the new vinyl reissue of a 15-year-old Celine Dion greatest hits collection? Or, was it the copy of Now That’s What I Call 90s R & B with the sticker that read “limited edition” and “exclusive”?
Target’s music selection has always sucked. Today, however, it sucks in a way that’s a lot like gentrification. It helps bolster the sales of the music industry’s 1% by selling exclusivity and collectibility to fans inside big box stores, an irony that I still can’t quite wrap my head around.
Toto Coelo 12″ single with the extended dance mix of “Milk from the Coconut.” (Pic: Liz O.)
On a Sunday afternoon, I flipped through a bin of new wave records at Sonido del Valle in Boyle Heights. At this point in the dig, I had already found a 12” of Bananarama’s cover of “He Was Really Saying Something” for 99 cents that was dusty, but definitely playable. I was starting to feel lucky. Not lottery ticket lucky, but lucky enough to take a chance on a Toto Coelo 12” single called “Milk from the Coconut.”
My copy of Bandido by Miguel Bosé the day I found it inside Sonido del Valle in Boyle Heights (Pic: Liz O.)
I paused with the door of the convenience store fridge open when I heard the song. It sounded like Ultravox during the Midge Ure years, but it was in Spanish. Who was this? Shazam likely would have turned up the answer, but I asked the cashier instead. Miguel Bosé, she answered immediately.
Maybe I should have known that? I think the cashier was surprised that I didn’t recognize the singer. We talked about music often when I popped into the store. She played a lot of ‘80s Spanish pop jams. Once I remarked, “ooh, I love this song!” while Flans’ version of “No Controles” played and that got us started. But, I also didn’t grow up with the music. I had some knowledge of the alternative bands that were in the 1990s ether, stuff like Cafe Tacuba and Kinky, but I didn’t start listening to Spanish ‘80s until the ‘00s and what I knew came via my friends who are DJs.
Chaz Jankel’s debut solo album featuring “Ai No Corrida.” (Pic: Liz O.)
I walked towards the front of Fingerprints feeling fairly accomplished. A dig through the holiday record bin may have turned up no copies of “El Burrito de Belén” (or “El Burrito Sabanero”), but, I did find a vinyl copy of Let It Be Blue, the !!! album that was one of my favorites of 2022, on sale for a very 2002 price. I was happy to leave the store with that and nothing else, but Carlos called me over to a bargain bin. “Look,” he said with excitement on his face. He held up the Chaz Jankel record where the musician’s first name was spelled Chas. It’s the album with the original version of “Ai No Corrida.”
The marimba from Señor Coconut’s cover of “Trans Europe Express” reverberates down Elmyra Street, about half a block away from Homage Brewing. I recognize the song instantly because there’s a copy of the 12” single that’s been in my collection for more than 20 years. It was something that I loved on a conceptual level— German producer moves to Chile and releases Kraftwerk covers in various Latin American music styles— but also turned out to be a useful record to own if you like people asking “What is this?” when playing all-vinyl bar DJ gigs.
Michael Quatro at Melba Moore records found at the In Sheep’s Clothing x Japonesia Night Market at Homage Brewing in Chinatown (Photo: Liz O.)
In July, I wrote a story for LAist about how there are loads of cheap or free concerts happening in L.A., but finding out about them has become increasingly difficult because social media sucks and local music coverage is virtually nonexistent. It was a popular story. I ended up talking about it on LAist radio twice, including a spot that ran on Morning Edition. Loads of people told me they were having the same issue finding out about shows. Someone even came up to me while I was DJing at Underground and mentioned reading it.
Your record collection should reflect how your interests have grown over time. Seen here: The Velvet Underground, Giorgio Moroder, Green Velvet, Cissy Houston, Throbbing Gristle, The White Stripes, Leonard Cohen, Mike Oldfield, Fun Boy Three
In many ways, I don’t think of myself as a record collector. I’m someone who happened to start DJing when CDJs were not as user-friendly as turntables and vinyl, particularly dance and alternative music from the ‘70s and ‘80s, fit my college student budget. Many years later, though, I’ve managed to build a record collection that I still sometimes use to DJ. Mostly, though, it’s a source of personal enjoyment.
Over years of crate digging, I’ve learned how to build a record collection. I’ll share what I learned here, beginning with how to source records in a way that’s sustainable for you.
