Phrembah (a potato-like mystery) (phrembah) wrote,
Phrembah (a potato-like mystery)

So, what did you do today?

This guy I work with was playing some McCartney live stuff that went on and on.  Personally I could live without most of what the Beatles did post-Beatles.  There was some OK stuff.  I cherish my copy of The Traveling Wilburys, for instance.  Anyway, on this live album, on which McCartney performed pretty much everything he'd ever written, solo or Beatle, was a kind of limp version of We Can Work It Out.  I told my compatriot that the definitive version of We Can Work It Out was actually done by Deep Purple on their Book of Taliesyn album about three hundred and fifty years ago.  It had balls, the kind that Joe Cocker tended to impart to Beatles tunes he covered.

I hadn't thought of that song or that album in years, so when I got home I had to hear it.  It had been longer than I thought.  A few years ago somebody broke in and stole (among other things) my CD collection from A to halfway through Di Meola and the last half of Zappa through ZZ Top.  I estimated for the insurance company how many CDs had been stolen in terms of linear feet of missing CDs.  They were arrayed in alphabetical order on this long shelf along one wall, you see.  I divided the length of the empty space by the average width of a CD case and multiplied by $16 or so.  The insurance company was happy with my estimate of the number, but they prorated the value by some amount because they were, of course, used.  OK, that's life, but I never could remember exactly what I had.  I replaced what I could remember and what I really wanted.  There were a few that I was just as happy without.

So for years now, once in a while, I go looking for some long forgotten CD that I know I once owned, can't find it, and then it dawns on me that the artist/composer is somebody like Beethoven or Buckwheat Zydeco.  I smack myself on the forehead and say, "Yep, they got that one, too."

Which is a long way of saying that I went looking for a new copy of Book of Taliesyn today.  I wanted one now, so I tried nine places in town.  I had no idea how many albums Deep Purple made.  They're not somebody I followed; I just liked the one album--and Ritchie Blackmore's solo on Kentucky Woman, which is on some other one.  By the time Smoke On the Water--a song I consider about half a tick above Louie Louie on the Big Scale of Musicality--became a rock classic, they'd lost me.  Well, not only are there apparently no copies of Book of Taliesyn in town, not a single track from that album seems to have made it on to the dozen or so compilations that have come out over the years.  Just one more demonstration of my non-membership in the Great American Demographic: the only Deep Purple album I ever really liked is the one no one else even remembers.  Oh well.  Even L'Zon has no new copies, just links to "14 used and new from . . ."

So, I ordered one fearing that it might be close to falling off the edge of the earth, like some of the other stuff I like that nobody else has ever heard of.
Tags: compelling chronicle

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