On a Dissecting Table
AlexO's response to Leila's Blood, Looms, and Blooms made me chuckle. AlexO wrote:
Stephen Mejias
As Lovely and Troubling As
Which brings me to my latest recommendation: Xiu Xiu's Women As Lovers takes its alluring title from a novel by Austrian author Elfriede Jelinek. The album, Xiu Xiu's sixth full-length, was released much earlier this year, but I only got around to it this weekend, during a trip to Vintage">http://www.vvinyl.com/">Vintage Vinyl in good ol' Fords, NJ, along rich and wild Route 1.
Vinyl Record Day
Today is/was/forever will be remembered as: Vinyl">http://www.stereophile.com/news/11713/index.html">Vinyl Record Day. August 12th, the day Thomas Edison blessed us with the phonograph.
Blood, Looms, and Blooms
Tighten the laces on your Vans and jump on your skateboard, strap on your helmet and hop on your scooter, pump some air into the tires of your cruiser, do whatever you have to do, dudes; Dash, sprint, leap, fly like Olympians to your nearest record shop and lay down the $19.99 for the new Leila Arab album.
A Stable Medium
Chris Sommovigo sent out a message this morning:
The Rega P3-24 in Colour
Remember all">http://blog.stereophile.com/stephenmejias/a_good_turntable/">all that talk about me just loving the Rega P3 for its plain-Jane, ashen splendor?
The Princeton Record Exchange Virtual Tour
For those of you who can't make it out to the Princeton Record Exchange, the good folks in Princeton have put together an excellent video tour of their wonderful store.
Keep Your Soul Together
Oh crap. I just received an e-mail from the Princeton Record Exchange. Turns out they've added thousands of titles to their already overwhelming collection of tantalizing vinyl.
Cruel, Cruel World
It was just a few months ago that I was moaning">http://blog.stereophile.com/stephenmejias/040808immediately/">moaning and groaning about Sonic Youth's latest release being made available only on vinyl. I wrote:
PSB Imagine
Last Tuesday evening, JA and I left the office together and stormed through Madison Avenue's rush-hour onslaught, beneath so much Art Deco splendor, around Grand Central's excitement and confusion, passed happy hour revelers—slicked-backed men dressed in jackets and ties as if it wasn't 100 degrees outside, and impossibly radiant women in their picture-perfect poses sipping frozen drinks through tall, thin straws—to make our way into Park Avenue's old and golden Waldorf=Astoria.