My Pusher Calls

So there I was at work when a co-worker says the phone call is for me. I didn't place the name at first - it's been over 6 months since we spoke. It was my old CD pusher, Mike.

Mike recounted the last half year: he use to send out a weekly e-mail of used CDs he'd picked up from libraries, garage sales, store closings, etc. The lists were enhanced with his commentary. (Mike is especially knowledgeable about jazz.) Being one of his regulars had certain benefits: Mike knew what I might like, knew that I only bought CDs with the original artwork and inserts, he'd look out for stuff I wanted, and he'd take back stuff which didn't work on my Aiwa. (There were CDs which played fine on Mike's players and computers, but my Aiwa's 20 year old system is showing it's age.)

When Mike found that the response to his e-mail list was falling off he decided to go the eBay/Amazon route. His jazz stuff is selling, but the city-folk music isn't. ("City folk" is one of those descriptions which seems immediately obvious to those who recognize it and a non sequitur to those who don't. As I understand it the term characterizes the music of WFUV (Fordham University), WMVY (Martha's Vineyard) on the east coast: hip, urban, but with roots in folk music. I yield to any authoritative definition.)

In this age of the virtual experience I suggested something classic: what about going to his house and pawing through his CDs? He like the idea. Over the next few weeks or so he'll stack them up and I'll be taking a look and listen. All the money I didn't spend when he stopped his e-mailing may get spent. (I think of music as a kinder gentler drug. It keeps on giving until you lose your hearing late in life.)