Shortly after acquiring this humble phonograph, I took a ride to my parents house to pilfer their vinyl collection. Now, I’m a child of the 80s, which means they were parents in the 80s and much to my chagrin the record collection I found neatly tucked away in the basement reflected that. I mean seriously, I ask you, how many copies of Barbara Streisand and Barry Gibb does one house need? In my parents case, apparently it was two. I don’t know why.
But I digress. As I flipped through their collection of the good, bad and ugly (yeah they had that too) I stumbled on this gem which I think may have belonged to my grandparents. Some years back my piano instructor told me to look up a Tommy Flanagan tune to listen to for context on something we were working on. I can’t recall which one. Every now and then something would pop up in a Spotify playlist, I’d hear it and go,”hey that’s good,” but I never really payed attention. Then I found this. I got it home, cleaned it up and listened intently. I was hooked. While the record was spinning away I did a little research and found Mr. Flanagan’s fingerprints on so many albums I had heard before and never noticed.
I submit to you that this is how it should be. You find a record tucked away and forgotten, and it opens your eyes and mind to something you hadn’t heard before. Shortly after, I bought a reissue of his Overseas record from the sessions in Stockholm, which is equally enjoyable. The original pressing of that session is rare and expensive and I actually do have limits.