After making a couple trips to the local record store searching for older relics, it occurred to me to check in with a few of my favorite bands who have been steadily releasing vinyl over the past 10 years. I put in an email to Ypsilanti Records in search of locating a few copies of some more obscure Saturday Looks Good to Me albums, and after a few weeks, heard right back.

Within the stack of fresh records, was one of Fred Thomas’s latest releases from one of his side projects called Swimsuit. If you haven’t heard of them, I recommend checking it out. I’m a sucker for lower-fi sound, and that’s not saying this isn’t well produced, it is. Maybe what I am getting at is the notion of every instrument coming together, yet staying uniquely personal and alive at the same time. With so many bands falling over themselves to record in namesake studios with the latest digital beeswax, I think it’s great to hear something with a raw seemingly analog current running through it.

This isn’t the last we’ll here from Ypsi either. Lately they’ve been releasing tapes, and nothing pleases me more than someone putting a new spin on an old format.

I found out about Chet Atkins back in the late 80’s while opening a Gibson catalog. There was this great big orange guitar featured on the poster and it was remarkable. It instantly spoke to me. A love at first sight type of reaction. I thought to myself: I had to find out whoever could hold a guitar that large and so bright.

Oddly several years went by before I picked up my first Chet Atkins album. I came across a two disc collection of Chet’s early work called the RCA years. The music was akin to opening up the windows to an old house and letting the fresh air in. In a short amount of time, the album case was broken, cd corners cracked, and notes were scrawled in pen on the sleeve citing the different guitars Chet played on each track. I had taken the album everywhere with me, even if there was no stereo where I was going. The album was like a portal I could walk into and escape from whatever my surroundings were.

In the summer of 2003-04 I came across a book called Vinyl Hayride. It was an archive of some of the great vinyl album design & photography throughout the history of country music. After opening it up and thumbing through the first few pages, I froze. On the bottom right corner of the page was a photo of Chet Atkins album- At Home. I’d seen the photo before of Chet hanging out in his basement studio chocked full of guitars, but never knew there was an in color version or that it had appeared on an album. This was something I had to track down. A few months later I did.

This 1956 album is the best example I have of a relationship with a printed package. I’m still not entirely sure if I can fully articulate what I’m processing or feeling when I see it. Whatever those emotions are, the physical object is the vehicle to far away place, a basement where somewhere, some undiscovered person is mulling around, recording, mixing, and mastering never before heard sounds. For me, the package tells the story and without it, the music in only 50% complete.

This is the Lost Formats Project, in which I’ve opted to forego file based music for the fascinating world of music that comes in a package. It’s not about “poo-pooing” digital music ( I have a lot of it), rather it’s to embrace the experience of listening to music, the process of discovering new material, and the people taking up space around you who share a similar aural passion.

For this week, I picked this record up from Crossroads music on Hawthorne Blvd. For those who may not be familiar to Portland, this would be on the South East side of the city and around 20th St. It’s conveniently located right next to another great music shop called Artichoke Music.

Crossroads is literally filled with crates and crates of records aligned in rows, and randomly organized by individual sellers categories. The experience can be described as mostly combing through each category ie- Jazz, Country, Blues, Rock with the thumb and index finger working in an alternating pattern. You might call this “fingerstyle”. The store itself feels like wall to wall records. Playbills and concert flyers line the ceiling and special store selects are randomly displayed throughout the space. The far corner has a pile of Record players and other stereo equipment in various states of play. I’ve not fully tapped the potential of this section as of yet.

As a lover of Jazz, this is usually the section I hit first for two reasons: The covers tend to be well designed and the listening experience tends to be highly pleasurable for the ear. On this particular day, I couldn’t resist this Bellson record because of the wild collage and that fact that screened in red on the back it says “flaming” on the neon sign. Design mistake or intentional indication of the intensity of this record? You decide.

As for it’s effect on the ear canal, I can say that Sweet Georgia Brown, the final track on side 2 is rich indeed.

This begins the journey into 1 full year with nothing but lost formats. Nothing but vinyl, tape, acetate, reel to reel, and anything else you can hold in your hand or requires you to sit down with it and truly listen.

This week’s entry is a great 8-Track by Hank Williams. I’d never listened to an 8 track prior to this one. I expected it to be terrible and I was surprised to find that it actually has a unique and warm feel. Granted there is a fair amount of tape hiss, but I grew up with tape, so it hasn’t bothered me. This album sounds like what you would expect to find playing in a remote bar in some far away place. The sound is full and has the slightest echo to it.

One thing I like about this particular album and the format is that it made me hear Hank Williams all over again. My first Hank experience was on cd and at first listen, I couldn’t get over how thick his twang was. I think it took a full day to absorb his quality and understand that what I was listening to was incredibly profound.

I’ll try to include an audio post soon.