Not in the clamor of the crowded street, not in the shouts and plaudits of the throng, but in ourselves, are triumph and defeat.--Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

REDIRECT ALERT! (Scroll down past this mess if you're trying to read an archived post. Thanks. No, really, thanks.)

Due to my inability to control my temper and complacently accept continued silliness with not-quite-as-reliable-as-it-ought-to-be Blogger/Blogspot, your beloved Possumblog will now waddle across the Information Dirt Road and park its prehensile tail at http://possumblog.mu.nu.

This site will remain in place as a backup in case Munuvia gets hit by a bus or something, but I don't think they have as much trouble with this as some places do. ::cough::blogspot::cough:: So click here and adjust your links. I apologize for the inconvenience, but it's one of those things.

Tuesday, September 09, 2003

What's a Record Album, Daddy?

Mike Trettle with an interesting post (about which I understand ABSOLUTELY NOTHING) on a method for ripping trax from wax so you can soothe your ears with the wonderful sounds of Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass or some early Jerry Clower.

Being a youngish sort of an old fart, I still have a collection of real live mid-1970s vinyl that begs to be updated to what all the swingin' kids are playing today. None of it's rare, I don't suppose, but there are a couple of albums I inherited from my disinterested older sister of early-Sixties hot rod tunes, including a cover of Ronny and the Daytona's "Little GTO" by The Tigers. There's some early CSN&Y, and Steve Martin's original album, and lots of swing and big band stuff of my dad's. I even have some ancient 78rpm wax gospel records that belonged to my wife's aunt.

The kids are amazed by these giant black discs.

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