Wax is where it's at, baby!

Yep. Got caught red-handed doing what I love best -- digging through vinyl records.

I'm delighted that records are hip again. I never got rid of mine. Always preferred the sound. Any audiophile worth a damn will tell you it's superior to tape, disc and digital downloads.

Oh, sure. I've got plenty of those, too. But as my buddy Ross Southerland says, "Wax is where it's at, baby!"

I read an article in one of the papers the other day that said vinyl sales were up something like 130 percent (how do you do anything more than 100 percent?) in 2013, although it still only counts for a few percentage points of overall music sales.

Anyway. I love it. Have two turntables in two different rooms and too many records to count.

Headed over to Happy Holler yesterday and ducked into Raven Records and Rarities. Found a few. Dino Martin. Elvis Himselvis. Billy Joel. It's a terrific treasure hunt. The initiated know what I mean.

We've got several great record stores in town. Lost and Found is another. I hear Basement Records is back in business. And my buddy Spencer has told me about a small store in Sequoyah Hills. Gotta get over there someday soon.

After roaming 'round the records, I ducked into Central Taps and Flats for a pint of stout. The sign out front said, "Happy Hour -- All Day -- Screw it, let's drink!"

Methinks Dino would approve.

My turntable

I got all inspired after visiting Lost and Found Records for National Record Store Day last Saturday and after reading a thread today on KnoxViews here.

So, I moved the turntable into the den tonight. On the player is Jimmy "Orion" Ellis's "Reborn," released on the Sun Records label in '79. (This is a special collector's edition of clear gold vinyl.) On this particular spin, I was listening to him sing Billy Swan's "Lover Please."

Sadly, Mr. Ellis died on Dec. 12, 1998, shot to death during a robbery in his Alabama pawn shop. A buddy and I saw him at the Tennessee Theatre two years before his tragic death. His voice was the closest to later Elvis Presley recordings than anyone I've ever heard.

Jon Frid and Dan Curtis's dream

OK, now I've had a few days to think about losing a final chip of childhood. I don't know whether I can put it into adequate words, but here goes.

I've already told you about being obsessed with "Dark Shadows" as a kid. Throughout most of high school, I would immerse myself for one hour a day (30 minute episodes back-to-back) via re-runs in the saga of the crazy characters of Collinwood.

All those memories came flooding back last Thursday when his relatives announced Jonathan "Barnabas Collins" Frid had passed away, ironically enough on Friday the 13th. (Useless trivia: Frid starred in director Oliver Stone's first movie, a horror film called "Seizure.")

Part of the attraction of "Dark Shadows" for me was its story. Think about it. A Gothic mansion filled with ghosts, vampires, werewolves, and attractive young women in miniskirts...for what more could a teenage boy ask?!

Looking back on it, I think I identified with Frid's portrayal of Barnabas Collins, the self-loathing, reluctant vampire. If you suspend belief and take the character for who he was, Barnabas Collins was adrift in a strange world, struggling to find his way, hating the bad aspects of his nature and learning how to fit in. Well, doesn't every teenager do that? Especially one with nostalgic tendencies anyway?

And, of course, I would laugh with mirth at all the live-on-tape mistakes. "Gravestones" blowing in the wind. Cameras crossing cameras. Boom mics slipping down into the scenes. Grips wandering around on the side of the stage.



I collected all but two of the old Paperback Library books (my sweet mom has bought me the other two to complete my collection), several VHS videos and Kathryn Leigh Scott's "Dark Shadows Companion." I bought the 1969 soundtrack vinyl album from Mike and Maria at Lost and Found Records when it was located in West Knoxville. I joined the "Dark Shadows" fan club and subscribed to a few fanzines.

As the years passed, I left "Dark Shadows" behind. College and career took over. When Netflix arrived, I would rent the DVDs from time to time. I'd watch them usually on Saturday mornings, while eating cereal, for old times' sake. It never failed to bring a smile.

Last Thursday night, I toasted Frid, dug out my VHS copy of the 1970 film "House of Dark Shadows" (which did so well at the box office it single-handedly saved M-G-M from bankruptcy) and Jenn and I spent two hours with those crazy characters from Collinwood. I bought Mr. Frid's autograph on eBay and decided to splurge on the second-edition of the complete series DVD set, which comes out in July.

Dan Curtis's dream called "Dark Shadows" will forever hold a special place in my heart. Crazy camp and all, it was (and is) a heck of a lot of fun.

Webb gems on vinyl, via a guy named Glen

January has been tough to the Mabe household. Sickness and other stuff have given us a few weeks of rough water. So yesterday I briefly indulged in a much-needed diversion.

I can't remember if I ever told you I collect vinyl albums, particularly those of my two favorite singers, Elvis Presley and Glen Campbell. It can get to be an expensive hobby, especially when you're on a budget, so I usually only buy a few records a year.

But, I had a little Christmas money in my pocket and I wanted to check out the new location of Knoxville's coolest vinyl shop, Lost and Found Records on North Broadway. Maria and the gang have moved across the street into what appears to be a remodeled home. It's one cool joint.

I surfed through the Elvis section and didn't see any surprises. (One of these days, I'm going to find a good copy of the rare black-vinyl version of "Moody Blue" and not have to take out a second mortgage to pay for it. Or at least that's the dream.)

Then I made my way back to the country music section. And, yep, I found about five or six Glen Travis Campbell albums I didn't own. Most of these are Capitol recordings from Campbell's heyday as a popular singer (roughly 1967-77).

I know what you're thinking. "Hey, pal. It's 2012! Where's your iPod?"

Well, I listen to one nearly every day, but I'll go to my grave insisting the best way to get a stark, "live" sound is from a clear vinyl record played on good equipment.

Yesterday, I listened to one of my favorite albums, Campbell's "Live at the Royal Festival Hall," released in 1978. Highlights include a beautiful version of "Galveston" reworked to a slower tempo per composer Jimmy Webb's original composition, a give-it-all-you've-got cover of Webb's "MacArthur Park," a nice tribute to the Beach Boys (Campbell subbed for an ill Brian Wilson in the mid-60s) and a beautiful song I'd never heard before called "Streets of London." That's the great thing about these old albums -- getting to hear songs that have disappeared into the mists of time. You can hear it here.

Listening to Campbell in his vocal prime, backed by an orchestra, weaving through all those Jimmy Webb gems, well, it was just what this ol' fella needed yesterday. Better than a million bucks.

"Live at the Royal Festival Hall" is available for digital download, if you must. But, you won't have near as much fun as I did listening to the vinyl yesterday.

Nope, nope. Don't even try to tell me otherwise.