A few months ago, I bought my first Peter Frampton album since Frampton Comes Alive (which I picked up in 1978, on clear gold vinyl). It was his first, Wind of Change. Why buy vinyl? Two reasons:  I have Brian Davies’ brilliant ClickRepair software to take out the vinyl noise, and  I’m cheap. So for a buck and about an hour’s worth of time (including the real-time digitization of the lp) I have an album’s worth of music that sounds as good as any CD to my ears. And that’s all thanks to ClickRepair, whose praises cannot be sung enough. It’s awesome software, very reasonably priced.
Since then I have picked up two more of his pre-FCA albums: Frampton’s Camel and Frampton. Today I finally finished the last of the albums from that era, Somethin’s Happening. Now I have all of his solo output through FCA.
So what’s next? I could go out to The Album Hunter and look for I’m In You. Or I could raid my own LP rack. Because what should I find at the far end of it but an old copy of the soundtrack to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band. Yes, the very project that represented all that sucked about pop music in the late seventies, compressed it into a shiny bauble and crammed itself down the throats of the American public.
At tis point, something needs to be said: “Hello everyone. My name is Tom and I… [chokes back tears for dramatic effect] I own the soundtrack to Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band“.
At this point, something needs to be asked: Why? Why on Earth would you–of your own free will–go to Princeton Record Exchange and buy a copy of that album? Two reasons:  I saw that movie at the GCC 6 theater in Deptford back in the proverbial day, so there is some odd emotional attachment to that shiny terd of a movie, and  cheese. It really is a glorious condensation of the state of the music industry back then, a point driven home by the gawd-awful poster and the mail-in offers for more cheese posters (“A fantastic series of collectors prints in full color on REFLECTIVE MIRRORIZED MYLAR PLASTIC”) and official movie merchandise.
Now I have the unenviable task of transferring it all to my computer, just so I can further complete my Frampton collection. Kinda sad when you see it typed. Even more sad when you’re forced to listen to Steve Martin belch out “Maxwell’s Silver Hammer”. The poor guy.