When I dig around tag sale boxes for LPs, I’m generally pretty ignorant about what I’m looking at. The only things I’m informed by are whether or not I’ve spotted a jazz record (which are usually gone by the time I get there), or how hot the chick on the cover is. There’s little else I concern myself with, as I’m not blessed with the encyclopedic knowledge necessary to know which album, amid the usual sea of Christmas junk and Herb Alpert madness, is worth anything. I enjoy buying things obliviously and tracing their stories later.

So, when I hit the Kent Library book sale this past weekend, I bought three records at a dollar apiece. Sure, it was no Cold Spring Library book sale with their ten-cent records, but it sufficed. One of the records I was attracted to was ‘Orienta’ by The Markko Polo Adventurers. Usually, I make an educated guess about which LPs I’m buying have been released on CD or not, and this one didn’t look like it made the successful transition into our modern age - a principle that increases their inherent value to me, and which usually helps increase their monetary value also. Plus, it spelled things funny.

My guess was incorrect, and as I explored, it seemed that 1959’s ‘Orienta’ was actually a standard among the current hi-fi lounge / exotica crowd, and did exist in CD format. The album itself is an imaginary adventure amid the Asiatic countries, with the exact path of the expedition written out as a narrative in the liner notes on the reverse of the album cover. The record’s previous owner, TJ from Scarsdale, did me the favor of marking off their three favorite songs with blue Xs. While I ultimately could have just downloaded the thing or bought the mp3s, the record itself is worth around 5 bucks, and I was more interested in hearing it as it was originally heard anyhow - and it’s not nearly as hip.

Of course, if I’d found the alternate pressing of ‘Orienta’, which has a black bar across the top of the jacket that reads ‘Living Sounds’, I would have netted an $85 find. As it was, I was in it for the music. And a little bit for the redhead on the cover.

I discovered that this record had more connections to my proclivities than I’d anticipated. Further exploration revealed that the album’s musical content was composed and/or arranged by Gerald Fried, who was a noted composer for over 111 TV shows and movies. The most well-known piece of music that he composed was the very-oft-repeated Kirk vs. Spock battle music from the original Trek episode ‘Amok Time’. You know, the scene where Shatner finally finds an excuse to show off his man-chest via a well-placed cut across his Captain’s uniform? That scene

Even if you’ve never watched Star Trek, you’ve heard this music, as it finds itself used and re-used anytime there’s a mock-dramatic battle (usually between two friends) in any show of quality. You can also hear Fried’s work during some episodes of Gilligan’s Island and Lost In Space, and even in horror movies like the weird, expressionist ‘I Bury the Living’. Fried had even won an Oscar, so he knows his stuff.

While talk about ‘Orienta’ seems to focus on the fact that this was recorded as something of a parody of the exotica albums of the time, the music stands up well enough on its own - not unlike recent death metal parody band Dethklok’s superb pseudo-album. It’s not ‘real’, but it sounds so good that you don’t even care. ‘Bands that don’t really exist’ is another collecting theme I tend to pursue, as it were. So, throw on a copy of ‘Orienta’ during your next backyard barbecue, put up the tiki heads and light the torches - it’ll all go together swimmingly.

I live in a small town, as I’ve mentioned before. A vast portion of it is relatively unsettled state park lands, and the rest is fairly centrally located. I work at the library, which seems to be the epicenter of all things hilarious and tragic that concern town politics and personalities. People know me, for what it’s worth. I help them find the books of town code or get on the internet or summer reading for their kids, and I like doing it.

Word has gotten around town that I collect LPs, as well as whatever manner of spinny black discs that our small town might have hidden in its spidery attics and squirrely garages. It was a few weeks ago that a gentleman came into the library seeking me out, as he understood that I collected these records. He’d been driving around with a considerable collection of them in his car, looking to get rid of them somehow, and while the overpriced record shop in the next town over had given him a few bucks for a handful, a majority of them remained unclaimed. Sure, I’m always excited about the prospect of a new stack of records to play during my lonely evenings at home… and usually, I’m excited enough to go out to some stranger’s car and poke around inside of it to see what he’s got to offer me. I live dangerously.

It was clear that this man was a music lover. These wooden crates full of discs were listened to and appreciated. As he leafed though them, he’d pull out a few to mention how great this or that album was, or how he loved Emmylou Harris… but he had to get rid of them, all of them, or his wife would kill him. He no longer had a turntable, and his sentimentality didn’t justify marital strife. Was this a dark telescope into my future? Would I one day be making daily, forlorn trips to the Toys for Tots box against my will?

Through a process of negotiation in the parking lot, I made it clear that I had no personal knowledge of which record would be worth what, since I’m a record collector concerned only with the listenability of the music, not the condition of the sleeve. There were a few options to make his wife happy, but we eventually settled upon a convenient donation of records to the library, to benefit everyone. I didn’t have the money or frankly, the energy, to buy them outright, and the library was about to have a big bi-annual booksale. We could sell the records as a library, I’d buy them from the library (and get first pick), the library could get a few bucks, and he’d get a tax write-off for his generous donation. I didn’t know the tax value for a record donation of that size, but I hope that the financial and marital compensation was worth the loss.

And the donation was generous. Generous enough to make me feel physical pain as I watched him part with his beloved music collection, which he vocally lamented as I tried to comfort him in his loss.

We estimated about 500 records, and while I had to sort through them before the sale to remove the ones that were destroyed by mold, moss, moisture, cracking and general grossness, the resulting pile of leftover music was still excellent. While it hurt to have to chuck a copy of Zeppelin’s IV that had been colonized by alien spores, we kept Duke Ellington, Sly and the Family Stone, Donovan, The Young Rascals, Joe Cocker, Santana, and all kinds of things that would be great to listen to on a turntable. Especially notable was Santana’s first album, which came signed by Carlos Santana and six or seven of the other recording artists on the album. I’d brought it home to listen to, and only afterwards discovered the signatures.

I limited myself to about 30 one-dollar records, since I’m still indoctrinating myself into the parts of the musical world of the 1970s that didn’t involve Jethro Tull. I’m already a total Tull expert. Don’t tell anyone that. I’ve also outgrown my own LP spaces and have expanded into the unfriendly climates of the garage, which are never good for records.

I could likely download any one of these albums in perfect clarity, but now I know the guy who’d once listened to and loved them, and I want to listen to them like he did - hisses, pops, and all.

The array of deceptively simple technologies that have been incorporated into classic vinyl records reveals new things to me every day. Of course, there’s my beloved voice-o-graph and its home-based version, the recordio disc, as well as the experimental Gakken turntable, and Derek explored the use of x-rays as recording devices in Soviet Russia. I’ve only recently come to find out about the amazing existence of Red Raven Records.

I’m an avid animation junkie, so alongside my love of bizarre vinyl and optics, Red Raven Records are a great example of something that beautifully combines all three, predating the use of any kind of digital effects. Each of these was a regular 78 record with the requisite single song on each side. At the center of each was also the requisite label - except in the case of Red Raven records, the label was a bit larger than usual. Printed around the edges of this label were 16 small cartoons, each a single frame of animation. Using the natural spin of the record on the turntable, these images produced a second or so of looped animation while spinning, when reflected off of a central bank of mirrors.

The technology is not unlike that of a zoetrope, though in the case of these records, the optical device used is actually a praxinoscope, a device which succeeded the zoetrope, and which offered improved viewing quality - mostly in that one no longer had to view everything through a tiny slit. Instead of the usual cylindrical slip of animation that these devices usually use, the angle of the mirrors in the Red Raven praxinoscope allows the images to lay flat on a disc - something that the record itself provides an excellent medium for. In the case of these Red Raven records, this central mirror is also called the ‘carousel’, since it’s decorated, well, like a carousel. It’s also a rare device, far less common than the music / animation discs themselves.

The animations, which can be viewed in this YouTube video, corresponded thematically with the music on the disc itself, and in the case of every animation, the end of the visual loop deftly incorporated itself back into the beginning of the loop, creating a hypnotic crowd of swirling bunnies or dancing children ad infinitum. 20 of these were produced by Red Raven, and are some of the more highly hunted childrens’ record collectibles.

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Buying gifts for the collectors in your life can be a difficult thing. Along with all the usual gift selection issues, it’s hard to know what they already have and/or if an item’s conditions will meet the collector’s standards. What can you do?

Here are 13 gift ideas for collectors of all types of things — at all price levels.

#1 Collecting Books & Guides: The wide array of titles from Schiffer Books means there is likely something to appeal to most any collector. From Antique Dresser Sets to My Pretty Pony, from Canes & Walking Sticks to Josef Originals — even Civil War Tour books, Schiffer’s got a wide selection. Not only that, but new editions may mean these are guides your collector doesn’t already have.

Currently Schiffer is offering a special: Any US customers who purchase any three titles from their website get 20% off their entire order. (Should you be really confused about exactly which war it us Uncle Bob collects memorabilia from, there are also gift certificates.)

#2 Cleaning Tools & Storage Supplies: Each type of collection requires special care and that means special tools. Sure, you know all about Polyethylene & Polypropylene sleeves and archival supplies for comic books, magazines, trading cards, postcards, other ephemera, and coins, but there’s so much more.

Perhaps your antique textile or furniture collector could use a proper screen &/or vacuum for taking care of their fancy antiquities. Or maybe your bibliophile needs repair tools and supplies. Oddiophiles Audiophiles need vinyl cleaning solutions, phonograph needles and turntable belts. Virtually any collection can use items for proper display. Maybe your collector just needs more shelving. Whatever it is, large or small, collectors appreciate these gifts.

They may not seem exciting to you, but they are. Where you see plastic bags & boxes or ‘just cleaning supplies’, a collector sees a safer, more cared for collection — and the extra money in her pocket means she can bid a little higher on something at auction.

#3 Pocket Tape Measures: Why give just any tape measure when you can give one of these beauties from Kyle Designs? Not only pretty to look at, but practical for measuring furniture, hardware, and even the size of your car doors as well.

#4 Black Light Keychain: Make it easier for your collector to make the right decision with this take-it-everywhere Ultra-violet Mini Light.

#5 Magnifying Glass or Jeweler’s Loupe: Otherwise known as ‘the loop’, the small portable (and discrete) magnifying tool allows for collectors to better inspect items for everything from maker marks & signatures to flaws & repairs. A collector can never have too many jeweler’s loupes.

#6 Calendars: Each month brings a new item to covet with collectible themed calendars.

#7 Digital Cameras: It’s not just that collectors need want to show their junk off (like here), or maybe sell it online, but they do need to record their collection for insurance purposes too.

#8 Kitchen Goodies: Everyone thinks of vintage textiles and linens — and they are fine ideas too — but there’s so much more. For pop art lovers there are Pop Art Cappuccino Cups, for kitsch lovers these Paint by Numbers Coasters, for Coke collectors, oven mitts, and for fashionistas, coasters featuring vintage sewing pattern illustrations. (Don’t forget Cafe Press for nearly any theme, anything, on a mug.)

#9 Gift Certificates: Yeah, eBay’s got gift certificates, but you know the expression, “Think global, act local,” so get your collector gift certificates from their local antique mall or thrift shop. They will be happily received and greedily used!

#10 Collection Software: You need a gift idea; they need something to do during the long winter (non-buying) months. There are many sorts of collection programs & databases, which can help with insurance issues, pricing, &/or general organization. Check Visual PackRat and Primasoft for some ideas, and Trussel for book software or do an online search.

#11 A Wallet: Even chicks dig groovy wallets. Tucking them in a pocket is much easier than carrying a purse or shoulder bag & squeezing through the flea market throng.

#12 Seeds: Sounds crazy, especially this time of year, but seeds make excellent gifts for collectors. Not just plant collectors love ‘em, but anyone who loves vintage living does, and of course the vintage crate collectors & anthropomophic veggie folks do too. Rare strains & organic seeds sell out quickly — I always forget to order my Moon & Stars Watermelon seeds early and end up saying, “Next year…” And there’s a Seed Savers Membership for the really big gardening guru (or wanna be, like me).

#13 Folding Shopping Carts: Metal or canvas, these portable carts are great for collectors who haunt block rummage sales, auctions, and flea markets. Can’t tell you the number of times we’ve whined as we’ve had to carry all our goodies in our arms — or drawn straws to see who will schlep bags & boxes to the van while the other one gets to continue the buying fun.

I suspect many marriages and relationships could be saved if only a folding cart was in the trunk.

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Every box of records I’ve ever found at a tag sale, or a Goodwill, or a Salvation Army, or laid outside the library door like so many defenseless newborn kittens, has had at least a half dozen Christmas albums in it. And they make me recoil in horror. Sometimes, entire boxes brim with the beasts, and my disappointment is fairly obvious upon their discovery. It’s probably the gagging sounds.

It’s not as if I detest Christmas music, but its omnipresence between November 15th and January 10th of every year is enough to inspire revulsion. The typical Christmas radio fare is saccharine and overdramatic, with the most recent, manufactured singer belting out a Christmas classic as if their face is just one nanopascal away from complete explosion. What’s even better is when it’s a duet in which two incongruous singers try to out-belt each other with every verse, thereby damaging both of their credibilities at once. Bah, humbug. The only pair that could do that successfully was David Bowie and Bing Crosby, a feat of wonder which shall never be duplicated.

Somehow, I’ve let my distaste for ‘modern’ Christmas tunes infect all of my holiday cheer, so I can honestly say that I’ve never intentionally dropped a dime on any Christmas vinyl, ever - even though it unrelentingly presents itself to me at every turn for next-to-nothing prices. Unless it had ‘hi-fi’, ‘organ’ or ‘space’ in the title, or somehow snuck by my angry judgment sensors unscathed, any holiday music that I have is purely accidental, and very likely mixed into larger crates of things I’d purchased. Recent inspections of these crates of records out in the garage has reveal that I’ve apparently been in about 40 accidents I didn’t even remember having. Ergo, my Christmas record collection is significant… and still largely unpleasant.

But only now do I realize that I might have passed up some real gems during this past summer’s yard sales - most specifically, two huge boxes of Christmas records that were being given away for a total of ten dollars - which I unwittingly passed up.

I only realized my error when I recently happened upon FaLaLaLaLa.com - a wonderful blog that collects this lost holiday vinyl, documents it, and even allows readers to download select tunes (or entire albums) from them. I’ve surely encountered quite a diverse smattering of these in my travels, but I’ve never thought to, like, APPRECIATE them. Of course, most of these encounters would have been under the golden, searing sun of mid-July, when Christmas couldn’t possibly be more distant or unattractive, so pardon my ignorance.

It seems that almost every recording artist is contractually obligated to record a Christmas album, or at least a single, at some point in their careers. The Beatles recorded 7 super-rare holiday flexi-discs for their British fan club members. The Beach Boys (and later, Brian Wilson solo), Elvis, Chicago, Jethro Tull, The Supremes, The Jackson Five, Rockapella, Bright Eyes, Mariah Carey, Don McLean, Aimee Mann, Twisted Sister, Air Supply, 2 Live Crew, and Chris Isaak are just a few of the diverse artists who’ve dedicated entire albums to the holidays, often lending their unique styles to classic songs, along with one or two original compositions. Hell, I’ve even contributed some especially bizarre and bad music to a Christmas compilation a few years back. No one is immune to the dreaded holiday spirit. Even Scrooge was swayed, eventually.

Of course, none of these compare to the genuinely warm and classic albums of Burl Ives, Vince Guaraldi and Bing Crosby, which will forever reign superior to all other Christmas albums. I can’t help but actually start to CARE about the holidays when these come over the speakers. I’ll copy some of THOSE albums for my grandparents this Christmas, instead of the god-awful Phantom soundtrack we’re forced to endure every year. By the way, a close fourth place album comes by way of Christmas Cocktails, from the Ultra-Lounge series of albums.

Of course, these aren’t nearly as interesting fare as the various Christmas concept albums out there. Of course, I’m a fan of the Star Wars Holiday Album, but strange concept albums like ‘Have a Jewish Christmas…?’ (downloadable in full from FaLaLaLaLa) are always welcomed additions to the collection. Pair that with ‘Oy to the World’ by the Klezmonauts and you have a Christmas that appeals to a larger group of people than usual.

1994’s ‘Christmas in Luke’s Sex Shop’ is 2 Live Crew’s decidedly profane contribution to the vast collection of musical Christmas fare. Most of the songs on the album feature titles that are a bit too offensive or potentially controversial to even mention here - but I encourage you to seek it out on your own, at your own discretion. It can’t be worse that whatever Larry the Cable Guy and Mr. Cork have decided to destroy Christmas with. If you can point me to a genuinely funny Christmas song, I’ll gladly marry your least attractive daughter.

Of course, there are ten times as many alarming Christmas albums for children, including the 5-song CD single featuring a whole array of Shrek characters that causes me to hurriedly leave the house any time the kid decides to pop it into the CD player. I’m just grateful that we don’t have Pokemon Christmas Bash. One day I’ll get my revenge by torturing the household with 700 slightly different versions of Jingle Bells.

Of course, my own accidental collection of holiday records is another thing entirely. I’ll tell you more about it, and give you a listen, on Saturday.

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