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September 16, 2004 - Image 21

Resource type:
The Michigan Daily, 2004-09-16

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10B - The Michigan Daily -Thursday, September 16, 2004

The Michigan

Continued from page 4B
ago, abandoned his original plan to
upgrade his CD system and put all his
money into vinyl.
The distinguishing reggae of Legend
floats (digitally, ironically enough)
over the sleek, roomy store as these
vinyl veterans offer their take on the
past, present and future of music-lis-
tening. "There's that group that buys
it because it sounds better; there's that
group that buys it because it's cheaper,

especially as far as used vinyl is con-
cerned; there's the group that buys vinyl
because they'll go to clubs, they'll see
DJs playing vinyl ... They start DJing
for friends of theirs." Jankowski recog-
nizes these motives for buying vinyl,
and also points out that the size and
packaging of vinyl allows more room
for liner notes and artwork, a feature
with which CDs cannot compete.
Of course, not everyone is willing
to be seduced by the twelve-inch. RC
sophomore Dave Kush enjoys a record
every now and then, but refuses to give
up other means of auditory enjoyment.

"Only elitist bastards listen to vinyl
exclusively," Dave remarks, and pro-
ceeds to pledge loyalty to the 8-track.
Many fans savor the diversity records
present, but selection is one reason LSA
senior Cressida Madigan doesn't buy
vinyl. A lot of bands, she reasons, don't
press their albums on vinyl.
Dissenters, ambivalents, or simply
those without access to turntables con-
tinue in the CD tradition, but the market
for vinyl in Ann Arbor is undeniably
alive. A main factor behind the small but
active business - which promotes sharing
and a second market - is the community.

"This store wouldn't just work in the
suburbs or in the middle of nowhere; it
really requires a town like Ann Arbor to
feed it," reflects Kerr. He points out that
major corporations like Tower Records
- whose South University Avenue store
closed a few years ago - don't accom-
modate this culture because carrying
vinyl is not, from a store's point of view,
financially attractive.
Ann Arbor, bravely clinging to a few
independent stores that have enough
economic balls to carry vinyl, has
become a magnet for buyers, traders
and sellers from areas outside the city.

Ben Hall comes to Encore Records
(417 E. Liberty) from Detroit to sell
records, and invariably buy a few. An
almost overwhelming maze, Encore
boasts an enormous lot of records
ranging from doo-wop to Scandinavian
folk. As Hall roots through jazz LPs,
he explains his multifaceted lust for
vinyl, which derives from economics,
sound quality, and history. I ask him
when he's going to start listening to
records exclusively.
His answer?
"When they put record players in


Let's face it: I'm a great writer. I must
be a great writer. Otherwise, you
wouldn't be sitting there reading my
column. These sorts of spaces aren't reserved
for just anyone, after all: There's only four
Weekend Magazine columnists each semes-
ter, and I can only assume that makes me
one of the four best writers on campus this
semester. There's a good chance I'm in the
top two, but I'm not one for gloating.
I mean, if I wasn't such a fantastic textual
presence, a virtual waterfall of lyrical fluid-
ity and convoluted sentence structure and
inane cultural references, then they wouldn't
have "led off" the first rotation of colum-
nists with me. They wouldn't have "baited
the reader" with the picture of the hand-
some gent above. They sure as hell wouldn't
have given me top billing on page three.
And while some may suggest that they were
merely "getting me off of their backs after
months of begging and numerous monetary
bribes," I think the evidence above points
sharply to the contrary. I'm not one to argue.
So the introduction goes. And there must
be an introduction, lest I become just another
columnist in your Carr-cursing, Navarre-hat-
ing collegiate lives. Really, though, introduc-
tions are rather difficult. Even for someone
of my unflappable charm and wit, they can
be awkward. To wit: My go-to pickup line
for the last two years has been a sheep-
ish glance, another sheepish glance, and
"Hey, I write for The Michigan Daily."
Honestly, there was a lot of sleep lost over
what tone to take with this opening submis-
sion. Do I recreate the unassuming, charm-
ing dork that caused his fellow high school
classmates to vote him "most cynical?" Do
I shoot for the casual genius that consis-
tently makes me Gladys Knight to the Daily's
Pips? Or shall I use this opportunity to once
again reinvent myself for the masses?
Unable to choose from -- let's face it - a
bevy of equally wonderful scenarios, I chose
to begin with the only thing I know for sure:
the truth. All the facts point to the conclu-
sion I drew in the first paragraph, that I must
be a really fantastic writer. To paraphrase

Mr. J. Hova: I'm the realest that's run-
nin', I just happen to write. To once again
paraphrase Jay-Z: Best Writer Alive.
Really, I'm in the truth business. For two
years now, you've seen my opinions on vari-
ous music artists crystallize into fact on these
very pages, and then crystallize into big-
ger crystals of fact in the minds and hearts
of Wolverines all over campus. In the past,
however, I have bestowed upon you only my
music knowledge. In the coming months, you'll
find that I'm just as proficient and knowl-
edgeable about film, fashion and athletics.
I compared myself to Gladys Knight. It just
as easily could have been Dennis Eckersly,
Bruce Willis or Calvin Klein. But I digress.
Really, reader, I see a few important differ-
ences between our old relationship, as music
reviewer and reader, and our new one, as guru
and student. Most obvious is the fact that I'll
expanding my areas of expertise to include
things that I also feel stronger than you about.
Second, whereas before we had random lapses
in contact - say, if there was a two- to three-
week period without an album that deserved
my knowledge and insight - now we have
regular, bi-weekly sessions. Finally, prior to
this column, our rendezvous were sickly sweet
but tragically short. Fortunately, the higher-ups
at The Michigan Daily - huddled in circles
that reek of inky arrogance - looked up from
their self-imposed bourgeois roundtables
and decided that I could probably use 800
words or so to stretch my figurative wings.
What you shall come to learn, however, is
that this is both a blessing and a curse. Though
to this point you could wean yourself of me
due to lack of contact or interest in music, you
will now become so enraptured by my mus-
ings that you'll barely make it through Psych
111 when I inevitably leave you. For while
these may be trivial musings for me - a way
to blow off steam after enjoying another week
of uncannily great taste and Mr. Pizza - you
will take to them like the frayed blanky you
"threw away" when you hit junior high.
But that all sounds a bit high horse-ish,
doesn't it? First, we've got awhile before
my one-man Scientology cult leaves town.

So though I've got boatloads of friends, 17
first cousins, a famously handsome 6-foot-4-
inch frame, a way with animals, internship
experience and every good record Sly Stone
ever released, and the best thing about you is
that you made it this far into my column, we
mustn't forget that we're in search of the truth
here. Together, we'll roam the fields of life
like 25,000 liberal Joe DiMaggios, and, upon
finding some shred of dignity, some uncov-
ered corner of human unity, some gleaming,
astral nugget of truth, we'll hoard like pirates
and lie like fisherman to stay one step ahead
of the rest of man - nay - personkind.
Just don't forget, motherbitches, that I'm
the ringleader of this ramshackle tour, my
pen, my bullhorn, my boy-next-door good
looks, my snapping whip. When I tell you to
stop the truth-hunt and immediately view my
VHS copy of "Die Hard 2: Die Harder," you
will simply respond "How many times?" or
"Can't we watch the whole trilogy, all the way
through?" (to which I will reply, "Between
six and eight," or "Yes," accordingly). Fit-
tingly I will temporarily rescind my title as
"Campus's Foremost Musical Authority" and
temporarily adopt "Campus's Foremost Author-
ity." Now what's my motherfuckin' name?

Andrew is quite obviously an elitistjerkoff Correct
his sorry ass by e-mailing agaerigiiumich. edu.


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located at Von Maur in Briarwood
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with a purchase of $19.50 or more.
This offer is valid from
September 8, 2004 - September 26, 2004.
For more information, please call
734-622-0233 Ext. 663.


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