• ChuckDK about 1 year ago

    Hey everyone! I’m an illustrator with a proposed project called "Stories from the Grooves".

    Pick 1 album from your collection and write 1-3 paragraphs of the story behind why it’s important to you/your collection/the situation behind purchase/etc. It can be a silly story or a serious. And then I'll turn it into a mini-comic; hopefully to post online (ie a webcomic).

    I can’t promise I’ll be able to draw all the stories (I'll try) but I thought this would make a great illustration project and a great way for me to just hear people’s stories about an album in their collections.

    I can be emailed at: storygrooves@gmail.com
    And the comics will be posted at: storiesfromthegrooves.tumblr.com
  • carleedefelice about 1 year ago

    I love this idea!
  • rinkrat about 1 year ago

    On one trip to look for vinyl in Orange County, we arrived to find the record store closed. While cruising home I noticed a garage sale and figured maybe it wouldn't be a total loss. I found a copy of Yesterday and Today by the Beatles with the Butcher cover clearly visible under the new cover. I asked "How much for the Beatles LP with no record inside?" The answer came back, "10 cents". Needless to say I paid the dime and peeled the new cover off the next day with some isopropyl alcohol. One of my best finds of all time.
  • tcjj00 about 1 year ago

    tcjj00 edited about 1 year ago
    Wouldn't know how to write 2-3 paragraphs but my most memorable one is I once picked some records out of an old abandon truck in middle of cow pasture and found Slim Harpo - Baby Scratch My Back on the Excello label, He's a bluesman who recorded in my town on the early 50's

    O Yea and the guy I picked them from was kinda loony, he wanted to be a man of god and start a church under a big tent in that cow field
  • theoneillster about 1 year ago

    Well!

    I was at the Montreal Jazz Festival and I was watching Vintage Trouble perform live outside at Place des Festivales and for free in front of about 150,000 people. They announced two-thirds way through the concert that they had merchandise to buy in the pop-up boutique outside the concert boundaries. And of course, after they announced that they had only 100 copies on LP of their then only album, "The Bomb Shelter Sessions", I went a little crazy inside.

    After the concert was over, with my ears ringing like crazy, I realised how far the shop was from where I was standing near the front of the stage. But, I decided to go ahead and check it out and navigate myself through the crowds even though my chances of scoring the LP were very low.

    When I got there, about 10 minutes later, I got to the boutique, there was a huge line-up. I veered in front and I could see that the stage crew, who was helping out, were handing out LPs like hot cakes. When I got to that point in the line, I got an LP and was told that it was the last one they had.

    Then, suddenly, the band showed up out of nowhere and began autographing t-shirts, CDs... and of course, my record. I met the band (very humble guys) and I was off with my record signed by all 4 band members.
  • mikel68 about 1 year ago

    I've been collecting since I was a kid, I'm 48 now. I never lived in city large enough to have an independent record store or chain for that matter. Every time I got a chance to travel to Austin I'd hit the only decent record store back then, Sound Warehouse. I got all I could through my teens, then the CD craze hit. The next big thing. LPs eventually died out except for those small shops and most of them finally faltered and disappeared.

    Fast forward through college, multiple cities, two kids and piles of CDs. My crates of records traveled with me from every where we went and I always tried to hit a Good Will, Half-Price, etc. just looking for something. I never found any of those "Holy Grail" LPs in garage sales or thrift stores. Conventions always had a lot of them at prices for more than I was willing to pay.

    With .coms starting up at least it was a chance to see and try to get something I never got a chance to see anywhere. I did pick up some imports, promos, white labels, etc. online. Until recently, my son and daughter are in college at the University of Texas at San Antonio, there's not a lot of great record stores in San Antonio by the way.

    One Sunday coming back from visiting our kids my wife suggested we stop a flea market on the side of the highway as we exited San Antonio. Lots of junk dealers, and a few records here and there. One booth actually had records on shelves, not crates or boxes on the floor. I should have prefaced this with I a Kiss fan, not one of the obnoxious ones that has all the crap they put out, but they are the main part of my collection. For some reason when i was a kid I got hooked, mostly due to Ace Frehley and Paul Stanley. Back to the flea market browsing. I pull back the Kiss tab and was surprised the guy had a few LPs. Rock and Roll Over, Love Gun, Dressed to Kill and a copy of The Originals. I already have 6 various copies of The Originals. As I pulled up The Originals I noticed the clipped corner. Lots of Kiss LPs had clipped corners, mostly due to being in bargain bins. But not The Originals, clipped corner means promo. I pulled it out, the weight felt right, 3 LPs and not bad shape. I slipped the first record out and saw the white label. This was my moment, I was just thinking don't blow it, like Ralphie sitting on Santa's lap trying to ask for a BB gun. I slipped it back in, told my wife, "I'm getting this". Calmly I put the others back, trying my best not to look one bit excited. I got a price of $60.00, accidentally paid $70.00 and walked as far as I could stand it. Opened it all the way up, YES! All three white label promo LPs were in almost mint condition, all inserts were inside in great condition as well.

    I've seen this LP at conventions for over $400.00 and some go on ebay for more and less. I do have others worth more, but paid more too. Was a pretty awesome feeling.
  • monoborisp about 1 year ago

    This happened to me once in Buenos Aires several months after buying a inexpensive lot of progressive, jazz and funk stuff from a guy I found on mercadolibre.com (eBay Argentina).

    Most of the records were between F to VG, so it took me quite time to clean them and catalogue them thoroughly... This copy of http://www.discogs.com/Gong-Flying-Teapot-Radio-Gnome-Invisible-Part-1/release/566436 was amazingly VG+ almost near mint... And I honestly bought it cause i liked the cover and the unit price was roughly near the buck. I had heard about that band before but it wasn't definitely among my favorites.

    I noticed immediately that the record was barely played since the original pale-yellowish paper sleeve had not any sign of wearing and it showed an unique fold in one of the corners.

    Something felt accidentally, probably trapped bahind the sleeve for decades, like a genius in a bottle, when i flipped the gatefold cover having fun with the psychedelic drawings and words in it. That's when I found a forbidden love-letter from an argentine woman to a guy in France, talking about the time spent together and some chemical-metaphysical-phylosophical connection between them, written in 1970.

    That was kind of a travel in time, the letter had several pages hand-written in pencil and some words were difficult to recognize. A letter with such strong story of such strong love in the past... How many years ago? ... Who was this people? .. Had been the letter ever delivered to that guy?... remember I bought it in a garage in Argentina so the record probably never got its way to Eiffel's Tower lands. So I pushed forward my imagination...

    She's blonde, beautiful, but not the beauty you might found in magazines or movies' stars.. She laughs very easily and she likes watching the seagulls on the sea shore (she talks about some beach in Uruguay close to Argentina in the letter). He is tall, his spanish is not very good but his accent is charming, he's maybe married?, engaged? Friend of her parents? Definitely older than her... And the love between them sprouted like spring flowers... A secret love, an untold mistery in a dead end...

    Gong's experimental music was playing in the back, and I found it really enjoyable. Nowadays I'm used to keep playing that record but I doubt sometimes about reading that letter again, go back in time and live others lives again like a soul thief, maybe I'm afraid of love her. Again.
  • soulchap about 1 year ago

    Excellent stories so far, bravo.

    So many records, so many ups and downs. I feel ike most stories about my "holy grails" or lucky snags are pretty much the kind of experience we've all had and, hopefully, will have again. Sometimes, however, record shopping can change one's life, at least I believe so.

    In 1984 I had the opportunity to join a touring company, performing as a puppeteer in a production of Peter Rabbit, travelling mostly in the south, often setting up in the old beautiful vaudeville theaters in the then-neglected downtowns of cities along the Big River. I had brought along some mix tapes and the cast members tolerated my taste in New Wave while I took my turns driving the van. I once saw a semi rig in front of me start weaving lazily but wildly; luckily we were on an upgrade and as we and all the traffic around us slowed in sheer fright, we watched as the truck rolled into the median and stopped, peacefully, like a drunk hitting the bed with his boots still on.

    Of course I was on the lookout for records. This was the era of the rise of many burgeoning d.i.y. scenes and being a long-time NYC resident, I was ready to go local. It was in Bowling Green, Kentucky, a generally gorgeous state and particularly pretty town, that I walked into a peculiarly disshevelled record shop - no way can I remember much more detail, no name or even a memory of the exterior has stayed with me. This was the sort of shop made of a converted living space, shelves of vaguely organized LPs and various pieces of furniture in flung out rooms holding sometimes-moldy treasures or well-preserved junk. I opened a drawer in a dresser - it was painted white, I remember that - and found it stuffed with piles of multiple mint copies of old overstock James Brown singles on King, blue and maroon labels in vintage company sleeves. Clever me, I got one of each title, about 50, I think they were .50 or .25 per, and I seeded a well-cherished collection. This was way before the prospect of my reselling anything, but, that of course, was exactly the reason it could happen at all; nowadays no seller in the hinterlands lacks access to online sales and the thought, "he doesn't know what he's got here" hasn't been uttered in many moons.

    I could end the story there, but I ought to mention that I have very a wide taste in music, always have had. I was still pretty young, in my twenties. I was listening to a lot of Elvis Costello, if that can tell you anything. But beyond James Brown and the Famous Flames, my experience was still limited. As I was at the counter, paying the guy sitting in a beat-to-a-pulp easy chair, I heard the music he had on the hi-fi - I guess I was pretty well preoccupied up until then. The music was definitely strange, weird even, the kind of weird that raises the short hairs at the base of your skull, but also familiar, a siren-song that was uncomfortably tickling my gene pool. I inquired and was handed Le Mystere des Voix Bulgares on 4AD, with its perfect photo of some ruined clothing at the bottom of a river. I knew those voices yet I hadn't ever heard them. They were the air my grandparents breathed before they reached New York. They were the lullaby I made up in my crib to sing to myself. They were country girls, laughing, wagging fingers at me, always out of reach, beautiful, forever young and saucy. They were my Croatian neighbor from 1965 who danced with the Duquesne Tamburitzens, who we could hear clear her throat operatically two houses away, in a stifling summer twilight.

    It was the first time I bought the record that was playing in the shop. I didn't know you could do that! I've done it many times since. Record shops are great libraries, full of information, pictues, sounds, people with stories. No place else like them. May they flourish and persist.
  • tayloremersonstyes about 1 year ago

    This may sound a little strange, but I actually do have an epilepsy disorder, and maneuvering the day to day difficulties of life through it involved being introduced to Unknown Pleasures by Joy Division, which became my soundtrack at the hospital. Ian Curtis became a deep inspiration as well, as he's the only rock musician I know of that had to violently struggle with epilepsy. Once I was able to find a deep sense of control, my yang to Joy Division actually became listening to a lot of New Order.
  • GoodGuyAttorney about 1 year ago

    June 10, 1980 in Tampa, Florida was a typical summer day. Except on this hot, humid and sticky day, the Ramones were in town. Tampa was hosting the punk gods for the very first time. The band’s fifth album, End of the Century, had just been released. The Ramones did play in Gainesville, Florida the year prior on the Road to Ruin tour and I was able to see and meet the band quickly for autographs that year. They were exceptionally gracious and friendly then, but my experience in Tampa was even better.

    As was my custom at the time, my friend Mark and I ventured out to meet the band we were seeing that night and try to get their autographs - in this case it would hopefully be my second meeting of the band. We headed down to the Agora Ballroom about five hours before show time in my brown 1972 Oldsmobile Cutlass S with the ugly white vinyl top. We had figured out that meeting bands at their sound checks the afternoon of the evening performance was usually the least crowded way to get an autograph. Alas, when we arrived at the stage door of the Agora, the bands gear was already set up and there was no sign of any tour bus. A roadie told us the band had already been and left – but he was kind enough to tell us the name of the motel (not really a hotel) where the band was staying.

    Mark and I hopped into the Olds and headed to the nearby Holiday Inn. Yep, the Ramones were staying at a Holiday Inn. We parked around back and saw a 1960s looking bus that just had to the touring vehicle of the Ramones - it looked like a punk band's cheap tour vehicle. But again, no sight of any band members anywhere. After striking out a second time, we decided to walk around the only real public space at the Holiday Inn, the pool, to see if there might be some leather jacket clad punks hanging out. Low and behold, Dee Dee Ramone was sitting with his shirt off and his blue jeans on at a poolside table. We walked right up and said hello. Dee Dee was the friendliest fellow a guy could meet. He was obviously bored with nothing to do and nowhere to go before the show that night. He seemed genuinely glad to meet a couple of fans, and answered all of our stupid questions about being a Ramone. As Mark and I were talking with Dee Dee he said “Man, I’m really bored, do you guys have a car so we could go somewhere?” Whoa! “Yea, I’ve got car,” I said. “Can we go to the mall or something? I can’t stand just sitting around with nothing to do.” (Yea, I know, it’s like a Ramones song lyric. Imagine that.) I said “Sure, let’s go.” Dee Dee asked us to wait a minute so he could go get his wife to go with us – she was in his room. So, about five minutes later, Dee Dee and his wife Vera come out to meet us in the parking lot. They pile in the back seat of the Cutlass while as I drive the four of us to the mall.

    At the old Tampa Bay Center Mall (now gone) we “hang out” for a good two hours. Dee Dee wanted to visit a knife store in the mall because he collects knives - and, as he explained, “You can’t own a gun in New York.” Yea, owning guns in Florida was never a problem. We walked by a Record Bar in the mall (remember those?) and a few of the clerks recognized Dee Dee and gawked. It was hard to miss him as I walked with Dee Dee in my black Ramones t-shirt. Dee Dee finally said we needed to get back, so we headed back to the Holiday Inn. Then, in the back seat of my car, Dee Dee autographed my copy of End of the Century. He wrote “To my good friend Paul. Thanks.” He also told us he'd add me and Mark to the guest list at the Agora - and for the band's next stop in Miami. As we drove up to the back of the Holiday Inn Dee Dee was concerned that he was arriving late. Standing out by the bus was Johnny – with a glaring look on his face when he saw Dee Dee in the back seat. Dee Dee said in a wide eyed way, “Uh, oh. Johnny’s pissed!” Sure enough, Dee Dee leapt out of the back seat while Johnny jawed at him about being late for the gig. Even though Johnny was pretty pissed, he still was kind enough to get Joey and Marky out of the bus to sign the LP and pose for a few pictures. They were all the friendliest band members I have ever met. And when we got to the show an hour later, sure enough, Dee Dee had added me and Mark to the band's guest list.

    My signed copy of End of the Century now holds a treasured spot in my collection. It is a fond memory of my afternoon with Dee Dee Ramone.
  • monoborisp about 1 year ago

    My signed copy of End of the Century now holds a treasured spot in my collection. It is a fond memory of my afternoon with Dee Dee Ramone.


    Wow! What a story... Cool! Ramones rocks!
  • ChrisMeech about 1 year ago

    GoodGuyAttorney
    'Ramones Story'


    Great story. I never tire of hearing about artists that turn out to be just normal people as so many of them are.
  • GoodGuyAttorney about 1 year ago

    Here's another "meet the band story:"

    In the summer of 1978 I had just graduated from high school and my parents were willing to send me on a two month backpack trip across Europe - with a group of college kids. I was 18 years old. It was very much a coming of age summer for me. As you've read above, I was a punk rocker in 1980. In 1978, I was still listening to heavy metal as things transitioned to the punk and new wave scene. One of my favorite bands in high school was the Scorpions. Yea, nobody in my high school knew who they heck they were. Everyone was listening to the Saturday Night Fever soundtrack and Eagles records. I was listening to Scorpions, UFO, and Budgie. In 1977, Scorpions had released Taken By Force. Tokyo Tapes had not yet been released in the summer of 1978 - at least not in the US or Europe. As a fan of the Scorpions, I knew that there was a telephone number listed on the back of the first 3 or 4 Scorpions albums. Before I left for my trip in Europe I called the number.

    My intent was to ask if there was any way I could get information about the band schedule during my stay and travels. I figured I'd tried to catch a show during my visit. Little did I know who I was calling. After a month with the summer college tour, the chaperoned part of the summer ended. The plan was that the adult couple that was organizing the tour would teach us how to travel around Europe for a month so that we could then travel on our own the second month. So, yea, I was traveling through Europe by myself for a month at 18 years of age. I had fun. A lot of fun.

    During the solo portion of my trip I figured I would trek through Germany. I had grown to like the country and I was enjoying the beer. I also knew that the Scorpions were from Hanover. So what the heck, I figured I'd look them up. So with the phone number written down from the album covers I headed to a pay phone. And there was a phone book in the phone booth - so I looked up Klaus Meine. No listing. Urlich Roth? No listing. Rudy Lenners? Damn. there was his name. It had to be another Rudy Lenners. Rudolph Schenker? Shit - a listing. Double shit! It was the same number as the phone number on the album covers. I called it. A woman answered. I asked for Rudolph. In very broken English she said "Rudolph not home - at practice."

    But there WAS an address. Yea, I know this is starting to get creepy stalker like on my part. But in 1978 there was no such thing as a creepy stalker. That came later with the internet. There was no internet, but there was an address for Rudolph Schenker's home - the home of the guitar god in my favorite band. I looked it up on my tourist map. Damn it was way out on the outskirts of town. I was living on $20 a day. I splurged. I took a cab.

    I was dropped off at bout 4:00 or 5:00 pm in front of a 10 or 12 story condo building. I walked to the front door - no doorman was there, but they did have those buzzer buttons I'd seen in movies about buildings in New York City. There was a button that said "R. Schenker." I pushed it. A female voice came on and said hello. Again in her broken English she said "Come in" and the door buzzed open. I was 18 freaking years old - in Germany - stalking a musician. No cell phones. No way to call home if I got arrested. I rode up the elevator and stepped out on the floor that matched the directory. I looked down the hall and there was a redheaded bombshell sticking her head out of a condo front door wearing a white t-shirt with Scorpions blazed across the front. I was at the right place! She looking at me in my young longhaired glory - me with I'm certain a stupid ass look on my face and my jaw on the floor. And yea, she invited me in - into her and Rudolph Schenker's apartment. She was Rudy's wife. And their six year old son was inside. She offered me a beer and said Rudolph wold be home soon. This was amazing.

    After about an hour of awkward broken English combined with my ten words of German - and into my second beer - the front door opened - and in walked Rudolph Schenker. Now mind you, I knew Rudolph from the album covers. But you wouldn't expect him to be dressed like the back of an album cover coming from rehearsal would you? He was wearing black leather pants, a tight black t-shirt and black boots. He looked about seven feet tall as I was sitting on his sofa. He said a few words to his wife and German and walked right up to me and said hello with a hearty handshake. He was about as kind and considerate as a person could be in the situation. He asked if I had eaten dinner yet - and when I said no, he invited me to sit down with his family at the dining room table. Now if it was amazing before, it had gotten pretty surreal about then. I ate dinner with the Schenkers.

    During dinner, Rudolph asked about my travels and how the Scorpions were regarded in the States. He was honestly asking me who listened to the band and who were their fans - and what other bands I liked. I was honest. I told him there was a small group of my friends who were fans and that in my high school it was Eagles and the Doobie Brothers. It was after dinner when things really went into the "you had to be there" mode of believe-ability. I was a big fan. I knew everything a guy could know about a band that no one knew about in the States. I knew the songs. I owned all five of their albums. I knew the members. But I didn't know that the band had just toured Japan and was about to release a live LP titled "Tokyo Tapes." Rudolph told me all about the new album - and then he asked if I wanted to listen to it. So Rudolph Schenker pulled out the then Japanese only pressing of Tokyo Tapes and played it for me. Yea, I had a private listening party with Rudolph Schenker of the Scorpions' - as yet - unrelased live album. As we listened Rudolph asked me if I'd like to talk with the band's producer Dieter Dierks? Yea, I could do that. So Rudolph called Dieter on the phone and we chatted for about 15-20 minutes about the band and - again - lots of questions about the band's fans in the US.

    All told I spent a good 3-4 hours in Rudolph's apartment. He invited me to meet the band the next day - and drew on my tourist map where to go and what time to arrive. I would be allowed to meet everyone. As the evening ended, Rudolph asked where I was staying. Since I had left by backpack and all my belongings in checked luggage at the train station I told Rudolph I had to get my backpack at the train station and then I was going to find a campground. I was sleeping in a tent and sleeping bag to keep daily expenses low. Rudolph said he and his wife were going out for the night so he'd take me where I needed to go. This time, the band member drove and I road in the backseat - of a big-ass four door Mercedes. Rudolph dropped me off at the train station and said he'd see me the next day - and not to be late.

    Not knowing what to expect, I followed the directions Rudolph had drawn for me on the map and was led to an industrial area of town. I poked around outside when I saw a group of other rocker-type guys walk up and ask who I was looking for. I told them Rudolph Schenker had told me to meet him at this location and showed them my map. They said to follow them and walked me down a corridor from which the sounds of German heavy metal guitar sounds emanated. I turned a corner, was led into a large room, and was welcomed by the members of the German band Scorpions. They told me to have a seat in the corner and proceeded to rehearse for the next couple of hours. I was the only other person in the room. It was truly amazing. I had my own private concert. And honest to God, that's a true story.
  • JRyall about 1 year ago

    Cool story, bro :D
  • photoguy about 1 year ago

    That's awesome. You are one lucky dude.
  • emptycyb1 about 1 year ago

    Some 7-8 years ago, I was taking the bus in Paris as I usualy did. I had a bag with records with me, always, since I had this weird theory that this might trigger interactions with other people on the buss who might also be interested in records in some way. That never amounted to much but this one time a 60 year old lady approach me. She had a strong scandinavian accent and turned ou to be a danish visual artist who had moved to France in the early 60ies. She told me she had a few records at home and asked if I'd be interested to check those out. We exchanged numbers and I had little hope as this usually amounte to very little (especially since I'm mostly into free jazz and avant garde...), but a few days later, as she lived very close to my worklplace, I visited her tiny loft. Amongst a good 50 world music LPs (ones that I've learned to greatly appreciate), a few crappy french singer LPs, this : François Tusques - Free Jazz, complete, mint, and signed by the whole line up!!! She told me that when she arrived to Paris, she was invited to the release party of this and got this as reminder of her very first week there. She didn't really care for the music though. But that was one of my top holy grails, one of the finest jazz records I have in my collection. In exchange for the wole lot, she only asked me to digitalize a few personal recordings she had on tape...
    To this day, I will still always carry records when using public transport :-)
  • soulchap about 1 year ago

    emptycyb1
    To this day, I will still always carry records when using public transport :-)


    Ha! I love this story. Can't help but think about The Danish Girl, which has nothing to do with music. I very often have records in my bag but I live in NYC - this is just too common, I suppose.

    I do try my best to be as annoying as possible when I detect a foreign visitor when i'm record hunting. Just yesterday I had the pleasure of a record-chat with a visitor from Buenos Aires. He didn't take any of my suggestions, record-wise. :•)
  • djksette2 about 1 year ago

    I don't know how where or how mom kept it hidden but,in 1976,after I came home from church (it was Sunday),and my mom goes,"There's a surprise for you in your room on the bed",so not expecting anything super cool,I look......an original and official Vee Jay issue of "Introducing The Beatles" (yes,official - George had his shadow),still sealed! (Now,in Texas at the time,we had what was called the "Blue Law",meaning that unless you were a restaurant,movie theater,gas station or grocery store,you closed on Sunday. It was repealed in 1984-1985 as a law.)
  • Vinyl-rec-collector 12 months ago

    Once I found something like 500 $ in a horrible vinyl record on the flea market before buying it.
    The seller asked 5$ for the record and I accepted - lol.

    Another time it was a love letter with very explicit content, hmmm.
  • Dark_Autumn_Hour 12 months ago

    Dark_Autumn_Hour edited 12 months ago
    I was a young lad in the 80s and 90s, mainly a time of cassette tapes and CDs. My parents were big into music, but my siblings (one sister and one brother). Therefore I got a rather hearty dose of mainstream pop from my sister and hip-hop from my brother. I still have an affinity for anything 80s and early 90s music. Anyway, my father would occasionally listen to older classic rock (Pink Floyd, Led Zeppelin, CSNY, etc). So, in the mid-90s (as a teenager) my grandmother stumbled across an old box of records that belonged to my father when he was teenager and gave them to me. Loads of Zeppelin, Elton John, Three Dog Night, Beatles, etc. and all in really decent shape. My favorite from the lot was/is Led Zeppelin's "Houses of the Holy". At the time, growing up in rural America, I was oblivious to the fact that records were even being pressed still. I was wrapped up in the CD craze. My father was able to locate a decent turntable setup for me and I was hooked ever since. I remember my friends hazing me about listening to "ancient" records, but I just loved the pops and crackles and all that glorious artwork. I'd purchase old records at yard sales and flea markets thinking those were my only true outlets. So, now I'm a full on vinyl addict that frequents local indie shops. Someday I hope to pass on my collection to my son.

    Anyway, that's my story. Peace out!
  • monoborisp 12 months ago

    http://storiesfromthegrooves.tumblr.com/

    Thank you guys for drawing, sharing and put my story into comics... !!!

    I enjoyed all the stories there!
  • mikel68 12 months ago

    Found two copies of David Bowie Blackstar Clear editions one in Ohio and one in Alaska. Called Ohio, got it for around $32.00. Told another forum about the one in Alaska, then called Alaska the next day..."No, we sold it, please stop calling." Ha!.
  • djksette2 5 months ago

    Managed to come across a 1968 Promotional Copy of Marty Robbins' "By The Time I Get To Phoenix" LP. The reason i mention this particular pressing,is it is a Special MONOPHONIC Radio Station edition,shipped with usual stickers on the front cover [the timing strip and in the upper right hand corner,a "Special Monophonic Radio Station copy" sticker] that I bought at Goodwill for $0.99!

Log In You must be logged in to post.