Recent months have seen the acquisition of various records that have been intensely sought after by yours truly for quite some time now. Not merely by referral, but for the sake of re-visiting the previous musical tendencies of these artists and their intentions pertaining to content and musical composition. 
The first of these coveted new finds is the Killers’ debut studio album, Hot Fuss, first issued in 2004. A number of trips to Amoeba yielded little success in my quest for this album (their Killers’ section was limited to Human and Sawdust at the time). I finally encountered a special edition set in the clearance section at Hot Topic. While not the most conspicuous resource for vinyl, they surprisingly have an interesting selection. The best deal on the White Stripes’ album, Under the Great White Northern graces it’s racks, and at one point, it was the only retail outlet (that I knew of), that housed Blink 182’s Dude Ranch (I also purchased my vinyl edition of Enema of the State from them, which, as it turns out, is twice as glorious as the first time I heard “What’s My Age Again” on the radio as a pre-teen).
Not only did I obtain a ridiculously hard to find record, but it came with a cute little band tee and was less than $20. Despite not being the biggest Killers’ fan throughout their rise to stardom, a live, acoustic version of Mr. Brightside and a surprisingly melodic track featuring Lou Reed of the Velvet Underground entitled “Tranquilize,” intrigued me enough to re-continue exploration.
Brandon Flowers’ voice is riveting; every inimitable detail is stressed emphatically as the record spins. Through frequent usage of this particular record, I have come to love and acknowledge other Killers’ tracks that I never really heeded before, for example, “Andy Is a Star” and “Jenny Is a Friend of Mine,” as well as, increased my love for the constant Killers’ tracks in my life. The heart-wrenching lyricism of “Mr. Brightside,” the melodic, soul-stirring qualities of “All These Things That I’ve Done,” and the foot-tapping ecstasy that follows “Somebody Told Me” are brought to the forefront, rather than hidden behind digital snapshots of music. The dramatic atmosphere provoked by the Killers’ in this album is delightful, and I am grateful for the re-introduction in a bolder and brighter light; a representation less tarnished by abused air time and excessive VH1 coverage.
At a younger age, I had a slight obsession with Death Cab for Cutie; ultimately, I realized that the obsession stemmed from my adoration for the talented Ben Gibbard. The hype caused by the Postal Service that swept through my high school prompted my “non-comformist” self to back away from the insanity, but I would eventually return after hearing some of Ben Gibbard’s solo album Home (featuring Andrew Kenny, lead singer of American Analog) last summer. I found a copy of the Postal Service’s debut album, Give Up, at Amoeba, but it was much too expensive ($29.99) for my threadbare wallet to support that endeavor. After months of waiting to possibly score a second-hand record, I stumbled into a 2 disc special edition set at an Urban Outfitters (another unexpected place for record hunters to frequently locate records). Disc one contained the actual album, while disc two was composed of covers, remixes, and a couple bonus tracks. I got a good deal on it considering it had been removed from the original packaging, but the price before it was discounted was still much cheaper than the only copy available at Amoeba.
This compilation of tracks is quite distinguishable from Gibbard’s previous exploits with Death Cab For Cutie. The electronica driven album is a thrilling adventure in itself. Fraught with romantic and sophisticated lyrics; Gibbard’s soaring, soft, and gentle vocals embroider the, more often than not, upbeat and intricate tempo on this record. The book of lyrics that accompanied the album only provoked me to become even more immersed in the greatness of their masterpiece, and the more I listen to it, the more I crave for the rumors of a second Postal Service album release to be closer to the truth then reality depicts it to be. The gems off of this album are the usual Postal Service classics, like “Such Great Heights,” “Brand New Colony,” and “Sleeping In;” but the covers are just as mesmerizing. The Shins’ rendition of “We Will Become Silhouettes” was ethereal and sublime, and Iron and Wine gave “Such Great Heights” a slower, but interesting twist.
Although hesitant at first to purchase these finds, I realized later that I not only scored, but I had gained a new respect for record hunting. There is no “skip forward” button on a turntable; the album is heard exactly the way it was made; which is the way it should be (at least for audiophiles like myself). Some other notable acquisitions that I would recommend for re-exploration via analog would be: Lil Wayne’s Tha Carter III (2008), Broken Bells’ self-titled debut album (2010), Wu-Tang Clan’s Enter the Wu-Tang (1993), and Notorious BIG’s Life After Death (1997).
