It’s difficult to imagine anyone left on the face of the planet (already familiar with the man’s work, that is) who isn’t aware that singer/songwriter John Wesley Harding and critically acclaimed novelist Wesley Stace are one and the same. Henceforth, he has announced that he will record under the name Wesley Stace, and hopefully never again be asked why he assumed the name of a 1967 Bob Dylan album, misspelling and all. “It’s like what happens at the end of a Spider-Man or a Batman movie,” says Stace. “When the superhero reveals his true identity to his girlfriend.” “Girlfriend” may be the operative word on Stace’s new album, Self-Titled (Yep Roc), in which a 47-year-old man, now comfortably married and living in Philadelphia, reflects back over the loves of his younger life. Stace will be guest editing magnetmagazine.com all week. Read our new feature on him.
Stace: A couple of years ago, my friend Joe kindly stood in line in New Orleans to buy me a 10-inch 78-RPM single that Tom Waits made in collaboration with the Preservation Hall Jazz Band: Tootie Ma Is A Big Fine Thing.
Standing in line also entitled the patient buyer, or his surrogate, to purchase a Preservation Hall record player, made by Crosley, at a very reasonable price. The record itself was maybe $150 (to benefit Preservation Hall) but by some magical alchemy, the record player was only $50 more or something. I can’t quite remember how this worked financially. Suffice it to say, I decided to buy both, and Joe sent me the 78 and and record player. Hands down, my best purchase of the last few years.
The little black Crosley, with detachable lid, follows me, for example, into the kitchen with, for example, a pile of old 12-inch singles that I haven’t listened to in ages (or, even better, just bought). And though I have a nice turntable (Rega, bought in 1988 with the proceeds of my first publishing deal) and even a record-washing machine (VPI: fancy!) in my office, I’m quite as happy auditioning dirty secondhand records on the Crosley: Most new purchases get played on that first. They all sound good.
I’m on holiday now and would have brought it with me, but I remembered there was a crappy old record player here already so I didn’t need to bring my own. I even took it round to some friends for dinner once: That sounds awful, but there was a reason. Their family name is Spaniel, and I’d bought them some records by the Spaniels (“Goodnight, Sweetheart, Goodnight,” etc.), and I wanted these Spaniels to hear those Spaniels. It wasn’t just like I took round a stack of LPs and a record player to a dinner party, plonked it on the table and said: Listen to the music I like! That would be analogue snobbery at its rudest.
Last time I went to the Spaniel’s, the records were framed in the hallway. That, therefore, was a good gift. (Unless they only put them up when I’m coming round.)
Video after the jump.
