The Vinyl Frontier

Throughout history mankind has left traces of his culture embedded in a variety of medium. As he walked across the mudflats of Africa he left his footprint to dry in the day’s hot sun. He marked cave walls with primitive images of animal hunts. He discarded pieces of pottery, jewelry, bits of clothing. Whether accidentally or intentionally, each whisper left held his legacy, a story, a simple means of recording who he was, what he did, what was important and how he survived. As he walked his path he became more sophisticated with his breadcrumbs. Stone tablets, papyrus, books. They told of his life, his thoughts, his ideas, his longings. They contained his dreams, his music.

But what he didn’t leave behind was his sound, at least not until two Frenchmen Leon Scott and Charles Cros photoengraved smoke traces onto metal. It resulted in the replay of sound. A few months later in the same year, 1877, Thomas Alva Edison discovered a method of recording and replaying sound having followed a somewhat different line of research. In less than thirty years, recorded sound began to emerge as entertainment.

Last night I was invited as a guest into the studios of WDXV, Knoxville for The Vinyl Frontier a radio show which recaptures the sounds of an era lost. The sounds of needle on vinyl eking out the scratches, pings and tings of music recorded on flat black disks spun on turntables. The sound captured was that of artists famous and obscure during a time when music in the south stretched its wings after WWII.

The show is hosted by Bradley and Louisa Reeves, a team of archivists who spend time preserving old music, some never released to the public. They scour the landscape hunting for old recordings in hot attics, musty basements, along country road sides at flea markets or in the back bins of second hand stores. If they can’t find the artist they hunt down family members, and friends who relate stories of the men and women whose voices or musical instruments were etched on the acetate disks. This was often done in the home of the musician, not in fancy soundproof recording studios. Bradley and Louisa uncover some sad stories of musicians who lost their dreams to others who preyed on their talents.

I have to admit I am a music dummy. This is illustrated when I was asked to bring a favorite CD to the studio. I like Josh Rouse, but can’t tell you the name of his albums or the title to any of his songs despite the fact that I listened to them endlessly when I was in the Peace Corps. So last night was quite an experience. I listened in awe to the backgrounds, connections and history spun by Brad and Louisa about the musicians who once ruled the streets of Knoxville’s music scene. I knew Elvis.

The two hours flew by. We laughed about some of the cheesy stuff, listened in rapture to some of the talent clearly ahead of its time, and lamented the fact that some of these never were contenders despite their gifts. At one point I danced, doing the twist and then inventing a dance called UT. But I had to admit when a group called Zebra from the 70’s came up on the play list, I felt a little old. This was my generation.

Today without much effort I can get a video out on YouTube, leaving my mark on the pages of humankind’s journal. It should have been that easy for some of the artists of the past. Fortunately, we have people like the Reeves who recapture lost bits of music history. Catch them on WDVX.com Monday nights at 9 PM Eastern Time. You’ll be in for a real treat.