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Roadrunner Records - 12/265

Roadrunner Records – 12/365, Archive 365, Kingfield neighborhood, Minneapolis, Minnesota, March 2009, photo © 2009-2012 by QuoinMonkey. All rights reserved.


Spotted this sign outside Roadrunner Records after having coffee across the street at Anodyne Coffeehouse. I don’t get over to the Kingfield neighborhood of Minneapolis very often and had no idea the Indie record store was there. Roadrunner sells rare, vintage, and used vinyl. Right up my alley. A tidbit on the word anodyne:


an·o·dyne/ˈanəˌdīn/

Adjective:
Not likely to provoke dissent or offense; uncontentious or inoffensive, often deliberately so: “anodyne New Age music”.
Noun:
A pain-killing drug or medicine.
Synonyms:
adjective.  sedative – analgesic
noun.  painkiller – analgesic



Something that soothes, calms, or comforts. Stop into Roadrunner Records, then head across the street for coffee and baked goods made from scratch. Local in motion.
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ARCHIVE 365 is a photo collaboration between skywire7 and QuoinMonkey featuring images from our archives. We will alternate posting once a day in our Flickr sets from July 1st 2012 through June 30th 2013. You can view our photographs at skywire7 Archive 365 set on Flickr and QuoinMonkey Archive 365 set on Flickr.

-posted on red Ravine, Friday, July 13, 2012

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Blood On The Tracks, newly painted door of Bob Dylan's childhood home, Hibbing, Minnesota, May 2006, photo © 2007 by Liz. All rights reserved.     Blood On The Tracks, newly painted door of Bob Dylan's childhood home, Hibbing, Minnesota, May 2006, photo © 2007 by Liz. All rights reserved.

Blood On The Tracks, newly painted door of Bob Dylan's childhood home, Hibbing, Minnesota, May 2006, photo © 2007 by Liz. All rights reserved.     Blood On The Tracks, newly painted door of Bob Dylan's childhood home, Hibbing, Minnesota, May 2006, photo © 2007 by Liz. All rights reserved.

Blood On The Tracks, newly painted garage door on Dylan’s childhood home, part of the Dylan Days tour, Hibbing, Minnesota, May 2006, photo © 2006 by Liz. All rights reserved.


I’ve had music on the brain. Last week I watched an October interview with Nancy and Ann Wilson on A&E’s Private Sessions. The two members of one of the greatest rock bands of all time, Heart, were in fine form. Ann Wilson has a new CD called Hope & Glory.  She tackles everyone from Shawn Colvin, Alison Krauss, k.d. lang, Rufus Wainwright, and Elton John – all the way to classic rockers, Led Zeppelin.

Watching I’m Not There a few weeks ago at the Uptown, and researching The 6 Faces Of Dylan, stirred up a few memory bars, too. I started compiling a list of my all-time Top 10 Albums (remember those scratches, ticks, and pops!), followed closely by my all-time Top 10 Singles. What happened next was a flood of memories associated with not only the songs, but whole albums.

I cut my teeth on early James Brown, Chubby Checker (is there anyone who doesn’t know The Twist?), and Beatles ’65. I listened to them on a beige RCA suitcase record player with a silver latch. I toted that thing everywhere and wore extra grooves into my coveted collection of 45’s (housed in a padded pink, Barbie record case).

I remember my favorite 33 rpm’s as concept pieces – I couldn’t listen to just one song. I had to hear the whole waxy platter (flip!), both sides:  Neil Young’s, Harvest, Joni Mitchell’s Court & Spark (and Blue), Fleetwood Mac’s Rumours, the Anthology: Best of the Temptations (double set), Elton John’s Tumbleweed Connection with Come Down In Time. And don’t forget the Johnny Mathis and Nat King Cole Christmas albums.

Then there are the obscure singles like Brook Benton’s Rainy Night in Georgia (this song still gets to the sadness in me), Lulu’s To Sir With Love, or The Association’s Cherish. Along with blockbusters like Bill Withers’ Ain’t No Sunshine, Otis Redding’s Dock Of The Bay, Bobby Darin’s Mack The Knife, Wilson Pickett’s Mustang Sally, or Tina Turner’s version of John Fogerty’s (Creedence Clearwater Revival) Proud Mary.

Maybe for you it was Elvis, the Fugees, Crosby Stills & Nash, The Guess Who, Steely Dan, the Supremes, Janice Ian, or Ferron. Maybe it was an old rock or country album your parents played when you were growing up. What about Hendrix, Woodstock, Janis Joplin, The Jayhawks, Los Lobos, Nirvana, Glen Campbell (I admit, Wichita Lineman, written by Jimmy Webb, is one of my faves), Leonard Cohen, or The Squirrel Nut Zippers.


Music and memories. Head back as far into your mental musical archives as you can go. Then connect the dots:

  • Make a list of your Top 10 Albums (8-tracks, cassettes, CD’s) of all time, music that has impacted your life (it doesn’t have to be forever. You can change your mind later. Grab them off the top of your head. Don’t anguish over it!)
  • Make a list of your Top 10 Singles of all time (same thing, don’t make it a big deal)
  • Choose one of the Titles from your combined lists of 20 Hits.


Do a 15 minute writing practice on one of the following:

  • When I hear ____ I remember…
  • The first time I heard ____ …
  • The last time I heard ____…
  • This song reminds me of _____…
  • The first time I saw ______ in concert…


It doesn’t matter what kind of music you like. What matters is how the music moves you. Music lifts the spirits, forces your body to sway, slings you into the fires of passion, keeps you young, and, for better or worse, is undeniably connected to love.

Think about the music that has most impacted your life. Drop some of your Top 10 Titles into the comments below (the more memories we stir, the better!).

And if you Love Me Like Music, I’ll be your song.


-posted on red Ravine, Monday, December 10th, 2007

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