Reconnected by Records

Yesterday afternoon I drove up to Lowell, MA, to check out the record show at Mill No. 5. I like that city--hadn't been there in a while--and the event poster (above) was eye-catching. If you haven't been to Lowell it may seem a bit gritty and worn on the surface, but the history of the place is fascinating and I find the people to be friendly (in a New England sorta way). In Boston a lot of cool old stuff gets torn down and replaced with new stuff that tries to be cool and look old. Lowell tends to leave things as they were.

Mill No. 5, however--as the name suggests--is an old mill building that's being renovated as retail space. For yesterday's show, on the building's fourth floor, art and craft vendors, record-dealer tables, and a DJ were set up. They had a healthy crowd, but the dealers mostly had LPs and I was after singles. 

Vinyl Destination is a permanent record store at Mill No. 5, and they had all their 45s on sale for $2.00 each. I had fun digging through their boxes and amassed a small stack to buy. (Again, the inventory was mostly LPs.) Nice folks there. It was good to see kids buying records--the busy store made me think of Saturday record shopping when I was a kid--and it was refreshing to pick up some bargains. I probably already have four copies of "Why" by the Cues, but couldn't pass up a pristine example with a cool "Hot Stuff" sleeve. Also got a nice copy of "Dinky Doo" by Eddie Bo. (You'll have to come out to Brass Union this week to hear the others.) 

Strange thing: A few of the records I bought had a name-and-address sticker on the them, and the name was familiar. I Googled the guy and learned that it was who I thought it might be, a former day-job colleague from many years ago. He died in 2014, and someone must've sold off his records. He and I never discussed music at work, but I see now that we should have since we apparently had similar taste. It feels eerie to own records of a dead person you used to know, but they are in good hands and will be enjoyed. He'd probably be happy to know that. 

This of course leads to the inevitable question: What will happen to all my records after I hand in my lunch pail? I guess someone else will need to worry about that. OK. Enough morbidity. Time to go play some more of the newly acquired finds.