![]() ![]() I spent hours meditating on Penney’s scant six rows of record bins, pondering Moby Grape, Ultimate Spinach, the Electric Prunes (“I Had Too Much to Dream Last Night,” if your memory needs jogging), and other cuisine-inspired psychedelia, a list that would include Cream, the Lovin’ Spoonful, and maybe even the Turtles, the Byrds, and Captain Beefheart. Deep Purple made for another good hidey-hole. The rule was that you could only exchange for the exact same album unless it was out of stock, so the day before I had to walk to the mall, find all the copies of, oh, Strawberry Alarm Clock’s Incense and Peppermints, and slip them between the copies of Iron Butterfly’s In-A-Gadda-Da-Vida, the album that proved that it’s possible to replicate in vinyl the sonic equivalent of dental surgery without the benefits. If I didn’t like Badfinger’s Magic Christian Music or Richard Harris’s A Tramp Shining, the record would always be, believe me, scratched. When I wanted to buy music, I trudged a mile along Carter Hill Road from my father’s house to the Montgomery Mall and rooted through the record bins at JC Penney’s because they’d let me return the album if I came back a week later and claimed it was defective. Then steered the white moth thither in the night? What brought the kindred spider to that height, What had that flower to do with being white, ![]()
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