Buried in semiquavers.

Time to come out and say it: Between CDs, digital recordings, and vinyl (which I haven’t spun in months — heck, I haven’t even plugged in my stereo in months), I possess way too damned much music.

Given that music is not disposable and is meant to be repeatedly revisited and savored, I could acquire nothing I don’t already own now and have more than enough to chew on for the rest of my life. The combined musicians of the world could down tools tonight and never come back and I’d still have more music than I could ever truly appreciate.

(This reckoning might or might not include the other audio ephemera I’ve collected — like radio airchecks, audio of old news broadcasts, and radio broadcasts of baseball games.)

But I’m not here to tell you I’ve gotten rid of any. No, I’m here to tell you I just loaded up on more.

Two weeks ago the library in the next town over held its annual booksale. The CD tables were considerably hipper and more interesting than they usually are at these things. I picked up a bunch of CDs — 13 for $13. Some were two-CD sets but it made no difference to the checkout guy.

This weekend it got even sillier, as the library held a $5-a-bag everything-must-go sale. My $5 bag probably had 30 more CDs in it (as well as three token books — gotta feed the eyes as well as the ears).

I knew I was just dooming my tiny house to swell with more crap. But … music. Cheap music, as in less than 25 cents a throw. Who could deny the appeal?

The first time around, I focused on stuff I had not previously owned or heard. The second time, I bought some stuff I already love on vinyl but wanted to have for the car, as well as additional new friends.

I intentionally left a few CDs there the first time (like Horsesin hopes that some 15-year-old would come along, make a new discovery, and have their mind blown. It seemed greedy to keep the pleasures of these albums to myself. The second time around I gave in and bought one or two of them, leaving some others on the shelves.

It occurs to me now that today’s 15-year-olds probably don’t even have CD players, and so a secondhand copy of Horses, Don Juan’s Reckless Daughter, or Kick Out the Jams would do them no good anyway. Well, what the hell. It was a nice thought.

Anyway, here’s some of the the stuff that’s new. Most of it I haven’t gotten to yet. So it’s too early to say how much of this stuff is better than Night in the Ruts, and how much isn’t.

(The car is still my principal place of listening, and I’m only in it three days a week, plus I generally favor propulsive rock over atmospherics when I am going to and from work.)

Anyhow, I might not list every last new acquisition here, but I’ll list a whole bunch of them:

Utopia, Anthology 1974-1985: What Todd Rundgren was up to for a while. I’ve listened to a lot of this and it pains me to say I really don’t like it all that much. There might be grounds for further comment somewhere down the line.

Can, Soon Over Babaluma and Landed: The kings of hypnotic German space jams carry on after the departure of vocalist Damo Suzuki. The first one is OK, not as good at first listen as their best, but I’m not done evaluating it yet.

Mike Oldfield, Tubular Bells: I know nothing about this one except four foreboding bars of music. Let’s see what the rest sounds like.

King Crimson, Red, USA and Three of a Perfect Pair: The first two I own on vinyl and really like; the last one comes from another period of the band’s evolution I recall fondly.

Roxy Music, Manifesto: One of two records by this marvelous band that I wanted to hear but haven’t yet; I was pretty jazzed to find it on the first day in the final bin I looked through. All I need now is Country Life and, the way things are going, that will find its way into the Destination for All Music (read: my basement) one of these months. Oh, yeah, I listened to this, and it’s def better than Night in the Ruts.

Sun Ra, Space is the Place: I have one of Ra’s voluminous output of albums and rather like it (or liked it when last I listened, which was a little while ago.) Sure, I’ll take some more.

Lightnin’ Hopkins, Smokes Like Lightning: I love how this guy would just make up songs on the spot, while throwing off his rhythm section like a bucking horse. If it didn’t feel a little too much like cultural appropriation I’d do a Bandcamp album that way sometime.

Great Lake Swimmers, New Wild Everywhere: I heard of ’em someplace (Wiki?) and they sounded simpatico so I took a flyer. I got the bonus edition with a second disc of all the songs done acoustically. Sure, why not? I didn’t have enough to listen to. The liner notes thanks the Canadian government for financial support.

Ryan Adams and the Cardinals, Cold Roses: I bought this b/c I’ve never heard much Ryan Adams, and b/c I thought my old favorite Neal Casal (a former sideman of Adams) might be on it. He isn’t. I’ll check it out anyway.

Chris Robinson Brotherhood, If You Lived Here You Would Be Home By Now: Neal Casal’s on this one. Do I still love the CRB now that I know they’ll never come back?

Crosby and Nash, Wind on the Wire: I expect this to be full of charming harmonizing with the occasional decent hook, and that’s all I require for 25 cents. Crosby is quoted in the liner notes talking about what a “total goddamn joy” Nash is to work with; notably, Nash does not return the favor.

Stephen Stills, Illegal Stills: I was kinda hoping for Stills’ disco album, Thoroughfare Gap, but I’ll take this for cheap instead. My first firsthand attempt to understand this most famous and yet so ultimately uninteresting of performers. Features guitar and vocals by Donnie Dacus, who two years later gamely tackled the ill-starred task of replacing Terry Kath in Chicago.

Neil Young and Crazy Horse, Weld: Completing the CSNY foursome with the wildest, raggedest outing of any of them. I thought some portion of this was recorded at the show I attended in Buffalo on Neil and the Horse’s 1991 tour, but Wiki doesn’t have show-by-show recording credits for the album, so maybe not.

Yes, Progeny: Highlights from Seventy-Two: In 2015 Yes released a box set of seven full shows recorded in October and November 1972. This is a trimmed-down accompanying piece — a two-CD set of highlights. I listened to this in the car going to Hartford the other day and it sounded sweet; Steve Howe’s guitar, in particular, is a constant revelation (no Chuck Berry licks for him.)

Van der Graaf Generator, H to He, Who Am the Only One

Belle & Sebastian, The Boy with the Arab Strap: I have gotten two or three B&S recordings out of libraries and have a quiet soft spot for their brainy, pale, literary brand of British pop.

Ursula Deutschler, William Byrd/Harpsichord Works: This one was a library CD; it has a stamp-card on the back with checkout dates as far back as January 13, 1993. I’m always game for the tinkly sounds of a harpsichord.

Jerry Garcia, Legion of Mary Vol. 1: A chronicle of the funk and soul band in which JJG participated in late ’74/early ’75. Other members included Elvis Presley’s drummer, Ron Tutt.

John Coltrane, Both Directions at Once: The Lost Album: Trane and his classic quartet from ’63. Unreleased, until it wasn’t. Can’t possibly be all bad.

REM, Document and Accelerate: Statements from the early and late periods of a band I didn’t figure out how to like until far too late. The wife has some early REM on CD but Document is not among them, I’m fairly sure. (If it is I have wasted a quarter.)

Tower of Power, Back to Oakland: An old Blumenau family favorite.

Nuggets: Yup, the definitive garage-punk Sixties collection, assembled by Lenny Kaye, who of course played guitar on Horses.

Jeff Buckley, Sketches for My Sweetheart the Drunk: Demos and early takes from the work-in-progress Buckley left behind at the time of his untimely death. Grace at its best is a remarkable record (a former college newspaper colleague tried to tell me at the time but I never listened then — sorry, Tricia) so I’m willing to check this out.

Mahavishnu Orchestra, Birds of Fire and Visions of the Emerald Beyond: I should be past Seventies fusion by now, but I’m not.

Bob Dylan, Slow Train Coming: I left a bunch of Zimmerman on the shelves, including several of his worst albums, but took this one. If nothing else I can put “Gotta Serve Somebody” on repeat.

Small Faces, Ogden’s Nut Gone Flake: Legendary concept album by British Mod popsters. Always heard about it, never heard it – until now.

Boards of Canada, Twoism: We’ll see if I still like these flaky-retro Scottish brothers, or if Music Has the Right to Children is all the BOC I need.

Fairport Convention, Unhalfbricking: I left Liege and Lief there but picked up this one, a landmark in Limey folk-rock. Liner notes and packaging minimal; I hope that doesn’t herald poor sound.

Grand Funk Hits: Owned this on vinyl years ago; traded it in; got a weird feeling that it would more than make up for the 25 cents I was spending on it. I can see this getting more car airplay than I care to confess.

XTC, The Compact XTC: The Singles 1978-1985: I should really just buy the full records, and indeed have in two or three cases.

Herbie Hancock, River: The Joni Letters: Nothing wrong with catching up with big famous acclaimed records years after everyone else has forgotten them.

Opeth, Ghost Reveries, Heritage, and In Cauda Venenum: My brother likes (and recently went to see) this Swedish band, which started out doom-metal and then went prog. I hope these CDs fall into the latter bag, rather than the former.

Jefferson Starship, Freedom at Point Zero and Winds of Change: A weird, weird piece, here. It’s a twofer set of two Starship albums, but they’re not consecutive, as 1981’s Modern Times came between Freedom at Point Zero (1979) and Winds of Change (1982). The liner notes are short, fawning, and apparently translated from German. The music, I’m sure, sucks; the very first song is the dreadful “Jane.” And yet … two albums together for 25 cents is 12.5 cents! That’s, like, less than gumballs cost nowadays.

I should probably also mention here that I’ve also been burning some stuff onto CD that I only own as digital files, and have listened to a tiny tip of the iceberg there. These albums include Sparks’ Terminal Jive (trying to decide if it works better as performance art than as actual music) and Leonard Cohen’s Death of a Ladies’ Man (dreadful).

I’ve got some listening to do … more than I already had, then.

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