Light in the Attic

July 23, 2009

A few months ago I sent Taylor an e-mail with a deceptively simple question: does he prefer digital downloads or physical products. It was something I was thinking about a lot at the time. I had just bought my first few things from iTunes and was slightly weirded out. I’m a very tactile person and a collector by nature, so paying $9.99 for something I could neither hold in my hands or file with the rest of my collection just didn’t sit right with me. Sure iTunes organizes everything, but it will never replace the shelves that line my walls. I like seeing what I own in physical space, it gives it the feel of a real library. I ended up re-buying all everything I got from iTunes on CD because it bothered me so much. (You’re welcome for the double sales, Cymbals Eat Guitars, Junior Boys, and Wavves.) Of course, all of this boils down to personal preference. Some people prefer storing everything on an external hard drive, content with the music and some cover art. Some people enjoy the physical package. These are the things I think about all the time. I already feel like an old man.

One of the the main factors in my decision to abandon downloads, other than my general annoyance, was Light in the Attic. A label/distro based out of Seattle, Washington, Light in the Attic produce the kind of products that make me proud to still by CDs and records. Earlier this year, I received their reissues of Serge Gainsbourg’s Histoire de Melody Nelson and The Monks‘ The Early Years 1964-1965 and Black Monk Time and, jeezer, are they some beautiful packages. Light in the Attic must be full people who care a great deal about music, because the amount of time and love that went in to just these three records is almost embarrassing.

Package wise, Histoire de Melody Nelson doesn’t stack up to the Monks records, but that is easily overshadowed by the fact that this is the first time in almost 40 years the album has been officially available in the United States. Factor in the almost 25 pages of essays, an interview with Gainsbourg, and lyrics in French and English, and you have the kind of reissue that sets the bar way higher than anything anyone else is doing right now. It’s hard to overstate how wonderful having all of this is. I was born in the 80s, so I have no idea what late-60s/early 70s France was like, and before I read the notes I thought the album was perfectly alright. But having read them now, I have a better understanding of the times the album was made in and have a deeper appreciation for the record. No art is created in a vacuum, and simply understanding the context in which it was created can go a long way. There’s also the fact that without the lyrics, I would probably never have noticed that Histoire de Melody Nelson is a concept album. It would have just been French words and some great string arrangements and the bizarre love story would have been lost on me. It really is a record of layers; you need to listen to all at once (it’s only 28 minutes long), and a few times over, to fully appreciate everything it has.

Which brings me to Monks. The Early Years 1964-1965 and Black Monk Time are my new gold standard for quality reissues. The CDs come in an oversize gatefold sleeve, complete with a poly sleeve for the CD to complete the illusion of a vinyl package. The whole effect is just gorgeous. As with Histoire de Melody Nelson, the notes included with the releases are staggering. 30-something page books, a two-part essay, complete lyrics, and a slew of pictures tell the story of a band of American GIs stationed in Germany in the mid-60s who decided to make one great psychedelic garage rock racket. Monks were a band I had heard of, but their one album kept falling out of print so I was never able to get my hands on it. After hearing Black Monk Time now, I’m not sure I would have wanted those inferior versions that have popped up every now and then. The care taken to remaster these records (Histoire de Melody Nelson is included in this) is phenomenal. They all sound as if they were recorded just last week, which is saying something for Monks, who weren’t recorded that great to begin with. The two reissues paint a complete picture of a band that were decidedly a product of their time and place. It makes sense that Monks would play to crowds that got so rowdy, military police had to break up the party. Or that they enjoyed pummeling audiences with relentless grooves and feedback. Black Monk Time would still be a great record without the story, but the story certainly doesn’t hurt.

What I’m saying is, I don’t think it’s time to write off CDs or vinyl just yet. There are still people out there, like Light in the Attic, creating the kinds of products that stand head and shoulders above anything else. Sure downloads are way convenient, but for me they’ll never match the pleasures of holding a perfect package, of pouring over liner notes or sitting and listening with lyrics in hand. Of course, there are digital equivalents to all of this, and, like I said, it comes down to whatever you like. I guess I’m just old school.

MP3 Serge Gainsbourg – Ballade de Melody Nelson
MP3 Monks – Monk Time

Posted by Matt in Album Review, Classics