Linda Perhacs
The Soul of All Natural Things

More than in previous years, this one has seen a lot of talk about Record Store Day, this day that, scheduled to coincide with the third Saturday of April, is meant to celebrate independent music stores around the globe with a series of events, including the release of some limited edition records, among other things. This at least was the original purpose of the initiative, which subsequently expanded and not only became more popular but went on to impact the record market and music stores worldwide.

How many records do you buy each year? How much money do you spend on average each year to buy records? I buy few, very few. Rather. To be honest, except for rare exceptions, I practically don't buy records anymore. Not because I think buying records is wrong, nor because I've stopped listening to music or because I already have "everything from the past." On the contrary, I must say I listen to a lot of new music. Mostly, I listen only to new releases, and not because I want to censor old publications in any way. I do it because I find that, among the endless variety of new record and musical offerings, there is always something interesting. Many, even too many interesting things, so that, in the end, if I wanted to buy everything, this would be economically, but also logistically impossible. Even if I wanted to choose, select, moreover, I wonder what sense it would make. Without considering that I wouldn't really know what terms, what criteria to use in the selection.

At the same time, I must say that I do not regret this at all. I don't mind; I can easily bear not physically owning the music I listen to. This is certainly a renunciation, but beyond the fact that I believe letting go of objects and even physically is ultimately a positive thing, a traumatic experience that we should all do (I'm not just talking about vinyl or compact discs, it's evident); beyond this, well, I think that maybe, upon reflection, I can even consider how the digital revolution, mp3s, streaming music may have perhaps given music a new dimension that perhaps, I say perhaps, is less superficial than before. In any case, while it is true that today it is easier to access music, as much music as possible and practically without any limit thanks to these means; on the other hand, it is also true that the privileges of this thing are practically equally unlimited both on the economic level and the possibility of choice, the ease of information transmission. Also, who knows, maybe in some way, after going through this initial traumatic phase, this might eventually push us to live the various sound experiences more deeply. To truly experience them for what they are without too much attachment to certain listens or even to objects that eventually become real "fetishes."

Besides, if you ask me how much money I spend each year to attend concerts or live performances, this time I would have to answer a lot. Even too much. More than I can actually spend, if you will. Oh, maybe I'm exaggerating, besides, while you can nourish yourself with junk food and then spend little money to eat, you must always pay rent. But these are existential and economic issues too big to tackle here, so let's leave it at that. Anyway, I do it, I go to these concerts because every time I try to feel some new sensation, besides a kind of communion with all the other people attending the event. Something that, I must admit, sometimes succeeds; many other times, mostly not. It's just that it's difficult to go against one's own resistances, which is evident, it's something we can only do after a long process and work on ourselves, and in the end, this thing might still not be enough.

What is the true meaning of Record Store Day? Assuming this initiative has one. I mean, my question is whether this sort of holiday, this almost Christmas-like recurrence which evidently has its economic payoff, has any real meaning. If it's true that, as I read on The Economist this morning, I'll link it here: http://www.economist.com/blogs/prospero/2014/06/vinyl?fsrc=scn/fb/wl/bl/therebirthofrecords, 2014 will likely be the first year with a noteworthy increase in record sales in the past ten years. A sort of rebirth of the record market that goes hand in hand with what is often referred to as the rebirth of vinyl. But is this rebirth real and, most importantly, who truly benefits from it? As music enthusiasts, should we consider this "rebirth" or supposed one as a positive aspect?

Honestly, I don't know. I don't know how to answer this question. I say that, if we look at so-called "independent" artists (so let's set aside, I don't know, Coldplay, but also Arcade Fire), I don't think these artists make too much money selling their records and that, even if they were to sell more, it would never be enough to earn them such a significant amount of money. This is without considering that, as far as this aspect is concerned, a single initiative like Record Store Day, although commendable because it is a moment of gathering and an opportunity to create some chaos, surely wouldn’t be enough for them. Practically speaking, I think that economically it is the live events, whether big or small, that provide them with an opportunity to make some money. This idea holds true even for larger phenomena, where in the end, advertising does most of the work besides simply publishing records. It’s no surprise, from this point of view, the proliferation of programs like X-Factor. I mention only this because, honestly, and I'm not saying this to be radical-chic or snobbish, no others come to mind.

What I'm trying to say is that maybe all this return to the past, this rebirth of vinyl, as they say, could actually just be another way to tug at the heartstrings of older folks and, for a change, pull the wool over younger people's eyes. After all, a record is just an object. Owning a record, an object, does not mean owning what is etched within those grooves. Owning a record does not equate to owning the music, and you can own the music simply by having listened to it while walking down the street or in the morning on the radio while you shower.

I've known people who were jealous, who are jealous of the records they own and even of the music they listen to, as if spreading it, as if, if it became somehow known to others, then this, this music lost its meaning in some way. As if the music we listen to were, should be a secret to be jealously guarded and that others could not, cannot ever truly understand. But this attitude, this idea, goes exactly against the original meaning of music, even its most primitive one; it goes against the concept of music as a message, as a system of communication, from the primitive drumming of indigenous tribes to the spacious lights of Close Encounters of the Third Kind.

Who knows. Maybe I'm writing all these things because I've always been very attached to things and all objects in general and have always been very attached to music. At the same time, I've always been very insecure, and many times I've never had anything else in life to grasp onto, as if, indeed, I had to cling to something. But clinging does not mean living. So here I have collected plenty of records over the course of my existence. So here, just like me, everyone has collected plenty of records over their lives, and each has stories to tell, stories of lived experiences but also of solitary listens; everyone has a story to tell regarding their listens and their records, also understood as physical support, and everyone has their own fetish record. I, for example, own an original copy of Time of the Last Persecution by Bill Fay.

I love Bill Fay. I mean, to me, Time of the Last Persecution is one of the greatest records of all time, and aside from the fact that I still listen to this record a lot even today, I consider Bill Fay a great artist and one of the greatest songwriters in the history of English music. By the way, I own a copy of Time of the Last Persecution, but I still listen to mp3s, and frankly, I don't care about the fact that, "Blah blah, but listening to music on vinyl is another thing, the quality, etc. etc." Yes, I tell you frankly, I don't care, it doesn't matter to me.

Anyway, there are a lot of stories about Bill Fay. Or maybe I dreamed them up. Like, after the seventies, some people met him, and they didn’t know who he was, and he told them, "Well, I am, my name is Bill Fay," and then they didn’t believe him, and then he sat down to play the piano and basically made everyone shiver. But really, maybe I just dreamed up these stories, or maybe I just invented them now; or maybe they’re true, I don’t know, check it out on the internet, in the end, just "google" it and you'll know everything you want to know. But I say that Bill Fay's return to the scene in 2012, when he released the new album Life Is People, was certainly one of the most unexpected, strangest things in recent years. I really didn't expect it, what a nice surprise. Even considering that, as if that wasn't enough, the record is really good, and it’s no coincidence it was universally considered one of the best released that year.

In much the same way, more or less, in the early months of 2014, folk-psych singer-songwriter Linda Perhacs reappeared on the scene after 44 (I say forty-four) years. The only LP previously released by the American singer-songwriter, Parallelograms (1970), has so far enjoyed not only the fame of being one of the fundamental records of the genre, making her an inspiration for many contemporary or recent artists like Akron/Family, Devendra Banhart, and Michael Gira's Swans, Josephine Foster, or Julia Holter, who actively collaborates on her second and last album. Basically making her one of the spiritual leaders of that New Weird America, the musical movement somehow invented, "recognized," and framed by music critic David Keenan on the pages of The Wire about ten years ago. At the same time, in fact, Parallelograms has become a true cult record over the years. In this respect, therefore, something more than a simple recording but a sort of object to be idolized and celebrated and perhaps owned, I don’t know, even physically, as if it should always be kept hidden, and it's no surprise that someone, under the effect of peyote or mescaline, might have done so, I don’t know how much and what benefit they derived, but everyone has their quirks, and we have to accept this, whether we like it or not.

Anyway, when I read that she was about to release this new album, The Soul of All Natural Things, I couldn't believe it. What the heck, "Linda who? But is she still alive? She really exists?" Well yes, Linda Perhacs not only really exists, but she is alive and well, she has recorded and released a damn record, I mean, a really great record. Label, not too coincidentally, Asthmatic Kitty from Holland, Michigan, founded by his majesty Sufjan Stevens, but could it be otherwise? As if that wasn't enough, then, Linda Perhacs has also traveled around the world and, among other things, was also a protagonist of the latest edition of Primavera Sound in Barcelona, a sign that this return to the publication of new songs and unreleased material, as we hope, might not be an isolated case and could permanently mark her return to the scene.

We've mentioned Parallelograms anyway, and in any case, everything has already been written, like the California singer-songwriter was some sort of assistant in a medical study and ended up recording these songs almost by chance, and frankly, I wouldn't know what other stories to tell you about this topic, nor could I invent them. What can I tell you? If you haven’t listened to it, do it, but then after, but even before, listen to this new album she released just two or three months ago and surely one of the most interesting things of this new year 2014. Aficionados, meanwhile, can already notice, from the opening bars of the title track that opens the album ("The Soul of All Natural Things"), how the voice of the American folksinger has remained practically unchanged over time and how, indeed, it may have gained greater strength, greater assurance, and where, also enhanced by an excellent and flawless production, this appears more incisive than in the past. Here the quality of the medium seems to have nothing to do with it, however, only that Parallelograms was indeed born as an almost amateur recording, while this one, produced by Chris Price and Fernando Perdomo, constitutes a beautiful and finished discographic product, where Linda shows us not only all her vocal abilities but also supported by Julia Holter and Nite Jewel (aka Ramona Gonzalez) implements this time a whole series of arrangements that would certainly be interesting and typical of the genre.

I have read some criticism on the web regarding a certain heterogeneity of this album and the fact that the tracks (ten) were too many and not all up to the myth of Parallelograms. As for me, instead, I find not only a certain compactness and continuity from one track to another but also an overall good level of enjoyment of the individual tracks taken separately. Meanwhile, a couple of songs, like "Children" and "Song of the Planets," are really fantastic, and the first, in particular, could easily be a super classic of the genre, while I say finding a "coda" as exciting as the one in the second, which is the track that closes the album, we have to go back to something like "Lucy" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds from the Brazilian album by the Australian singer-songwriter, The Good Son. "River of God" is the other strong piece on the album and perhaps the most catchy song of all, with that crescendo bridge where notes and voices, echoes and reverberations overlap until forming a sort of infinite musical castle. Other songs, starting from the title track, have certainly more daring arrangements. The title track at one point almost becomes Howe Gelb and his mariachi companions' stuff, "Intensity" also takes up these almost Spanish themes, and "Prisms of Glass" "When Things Are True Again" and especially "Immunity" are definitely more experimental episodes that the more Taliban ones might accuse of lèse-majesté to the genre. An accusation which, I am sure, besides not affecting this woman with such wonderful voice and sensitivity, seems out of place where this genre here has always been also and above all experimentation, contamination, never going back on one’s path and always recording and releasing new things, and who cares about the "support."

(since the reviewer is ignorant, the reviewer was unaware that the concert at Primavera Sound was canceled, Ed.)