Album Odyssey: A Fiction (Sometimes Really Real) Episode 1

Sammy Hagar / Nine on a Ten Scale Pt. 1 — Album purchase, part 1

Van Halen was a great band before Sammy joined. After a successful solo career. He alone, was dubbed the Red Rocker. About the time MTV played, “I Can’t Drive 55” incessantly, my interest hearing more Sammy music blossomed. A trip on the 18 bus, transfer to the 37 express bus to the Ave., in Berkeley. Three record shops dueled for patronage. My preferred was in a two-story building. A pizza place separated Leopold’s from the mega record merchant, Tower Records. I had no beef against Tower. The vibe and the music pumping throughout the space in Leopold’s felt cooler, making it the alpha record shop, for me.

Leopold’s earned favor because they also traded in used records and cassettes. Tower did not. CDs were nascent, beginning to ascend, however I stayed true to the vinyl format (at least at that junction in time).

A b-line to the Sammy Hagar section. Flipping through the spare (used) options, I plucked the “Nine on a Ten Scale” LP from the bin. It was this day the only un-scuffed used album. With little choice, the big face Sammy silent scream album art tucked under my arm, marched on to the cashier. My limited chore money afforded me the one purchase on this day.

Once home, sliding out the black disc, put on the turntable for a first spin. The lead track, “Keep On Rockin”, a solid start. A cover of an unknown Van Morrison song, “Flamingos Fly” conjured images of Miami Vice, that ultra popular tv action drama. It dawned on me how an album that was released when I was practically in diapers drew my thoughts to a contemporary tv show. Huh, funny.

Side one complete. Pretty good. Still, I liked the heavy rotation track Sammy had on MTV. Side two. First song, “All American” is pretty good. Then one of those too long for the radio songs, “Young Girl Blues” was pretty good too. Longer than I’m used to. The last song on the record might be my favorite, or second favorite, still undecided. “Rock ’n’ Roll Romeo” that song could definitely be on the radio. Maybe it was when the record was first released, 1976.

I played the record a lot that first month, then it lost favor for who knows what stole my attention, probably another artist on heavy rotation on MTV or my go to local radio station, KRQR, “the Rocker”. I close my eyes and I can see the yellow field, blue lettering on their bumper stickers. The stickers were everywhere around the school campus. Plastered on insides of lockers, on binders, occasionally on a drinking fountain (those didn’t survive long), and bumpers of course.

I had a peculiar habit when I was a teen. A black ink pen and a special mark I noodled over in many a class became my special purpose insignia. About the same as mom writing your name on your underwear tag. The idea was simple, anytime I brought an album to a friend’s house, I could without an incident prove ownership. A faint ink mark inside the record sleeve was my brand. I didn’t keep that habit beyond age 16. Somewhere along the way, it was a foul idea to deface the blank cardboard inside the album sleeve.

A group of us rotated hosting listening parties. We certainly didn’t invent the idea, nor did we make it a big event. It was a fun activity that more important kept us out of mischievous behavior, most of the time. Pt. 2 — Parting with the album, part 1

After graduating high school, my first move was looming. I couldn’t take all my records. I didn’t want to leave them to who knows what fate. A box along a clammy garage wall or the record warping rafters. No, thought it far better to cash in on most of my record collection, help fund my new adult life. Leopold’s had lost favor. A new, bigger, cooler record shop opened at the far end of the Ave. Amoeba Music. A new breed, indie-mega sized record emporium. My 300 casualties were cashed in. The Sammy debut album among the sacrificed albums.

So tempted to do a little record shopping, since I was already there, a pocketful of cash whispering,

“You can spend a little”.

Fortunately, my senses prevailed. I turned my back before some new release demanded I take it with me. When I arrived home, my once respectable album collection now resembled a newbie’s. A bit depressing in the moment. The greater good, I still had my turntable, speakers, and a decent library to keep the music playing, wherever my next home turned out to be. Pt. 3 — Album purchase, part 2

Years on my album collection steadily grew again. Although vinyl was just about worthless, the occasion I sought out new vinyl, it was a chore. Most record shops dramatically cut back their floor space to vinyl or didn’t sell any at all, new or used. Enter the yard sale.

Weekend driveway bazaars became the new way to add to my library of music. The homeowners were spring cleaning on a cool March morning. My girlfriend and I had a fun competition, who could find an item named by the other. Maybe it popped in her head because a friend made mention, maybe because I saw on a tv commercial.

This day, my assignment, find a movie soundtrack vinyl album from the 70s. Strike out. Their two milk crates did not contain a movie soundtrack. I did unexpectedly find in the plastic crates a moderately worn album cover, that hazy memory flashed forward, a shirtless young Sammy eyes shut tight, stared right back at me. I could hear “Rock ’n’ Roll Romeo” playing in my mind. I hadn’t heard any of the songs on the record since I parted with my copy years ago.

The dad walked up and said these were his records when he was in high school. He didn’t have a record player anymore. Urged by his family to get rid of the useless flat pucks, he obliged. He sold me four for a dollar. Sammy came home with me, again.

Pt. 4 — Parting with the album, part 2

Fast forward about five years. My record collection had ballooned. It might have been larger than at any other time. It was time to thin out the collection again. This time, it required a visit from the record shop to come over and sift through the stacks. The buyer from Amoeba Records (this time in L.A.), offered a fair price for about 500 albums. Sammy was on the chopping block again. The flamingo has flown. Parting with the album a second time was an easy choice. I hadn’t spun the album in a year or more. Pt. 5 — Album purchase, part 3

About six months ago, a friend who was part of the high school era listening parties called. We were reminiscing old times. Talking a broad array of artists. Remember when…

We talked briefly about the tired debate: Van Hagar or Van Halen with Dave. Both of us quick to the latter. As great as Sammy was with the band, Diamond Dave was the original. The band lineup we bonded with in grammar school. At the dawn of our rock n roll allegiance.

It got me thinking about Sammy again. Recently I had picked up a nice copy of “V.O.A.”. The album containing that 80s anthem, “I Can’t Drive 55”. An impulse descended on me. How can I have the one album, and not his debut? An album I had owned/sold and owned and sold again. Why not one more time? Sure, I could stream the album. A field trip to a few local record shops, now that vinyl is re-emerging from it’s near death, more shops are stocking the platters again.

No success. And I was impatient. A quick search on an online marketplace, there were multiple copies of “Nine on a Ten Scale” taunting me. Of course, I caved. Third time a charm? The songs sound better than ever. Two tracks have become new/old gems, “Urban Guerilla” and the 7-minute “Young Girl Blues”, a song in my adolescence that I liked. Now it’s a regular in my rotation. For how long? We will see…

Thank you for indulging my writings.

I write about three topics: music, tourism, and sustainability.

By profession, I am a: Travel Designer. My goal is creating for you: a vacation, holiday, road trip or travels as epic as possible.

Open to collaborate!

My personal website, find me @ https://uxfol.io/joshblackprofessional