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Crate Diving In Modern America
Leaning Into My Womanhood
Slowly, slowly, with Loretta, Tammy, and Bill
Likely you entered this space with great or perhaps lurid expectations. So I don’t know if it will disappoint you or relieve you to see that I’m still me, just like one of the artists below is still himself, too.
My crate diving excursions are heading to Canada next week. I haven’t yet looked up the record stores or thrift shops of Calgary but my friend Andres over at The Vinyl Room is counting on me to find some good ones and then pack them properly so that the dogs of border control don’t gnaw on some fresh hot vintage country vinyl.
As I was digging through the five albums I’m highlighting from my own recent finds — my stash of pre-loved treasures — I discovered that digging further into the packages these LPs come in brings further value and delight. I don’t know and always wonder how/why and with what sorrow the former owners let these gems go. Or, how precious they once were to the original owner and how many hours, or stolen moments, the sounds within gave them pleasure.
So let’s start off in a big way.
I’ve gone crazy for Tammy Wynette, as my recent story on attests.