It gets tired sometimes. I bought a vinyl pressing of Beck's latest record Morning Phase a few days ago. I hadn't listened to it until tonight. The label proudly declares "180 gram pressing" suggesting it's somehow special. I get a rare night alone in my house, child off camping somewhere, I even forgot my phone at work in the work van, so I had brilliant, undisturbed moments alone with a record player and some pretty decent speakers and a couch that I don't spend nearly enough time on. And the damned record has a pressing defect. It's what happens now. I have a couple of these "special" records with the defects. It gets tired when one invests in a something that's supposed to be special and takes a rare moment to enjoy that thing only to find it's somehow wrong or broken or defective. So now more of my life will be affected by a trip back to the record store to discuss a replacement that may or may not be any better than the one I have. I paid cash, another rare thing these days, and don't know what I did with the receipt so I might be up for a challenge there too. $30 for a defective record. I shouldn't presume it will be such a challenge to rectify but even if it is a breeze to procure a replacement it's still going to involve another trip to the record shop and an interaction with a record shop employee that shouldn't have been necessary.
Why can't shit just be good?
Why don't people care anymore?
It gets tired.
I'm tired.
But at least at Kyle's Cafe there's a print of a schooner above the condiments in the booth on the east wall.
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