Just the other day, Light In The Attic Records re-released Black Monk Time, along with a new disc of old recordings—demos to be exact (called The Early Years 1964–1965). A few weeks prior to that, the label reissued Serge Gainsborg’s Histoire de Melody Nelson—first time ever on compact disc for this one. All three of these discs have received reviews galore, so no need to replicate those (besides, who can top a 9.2 on Pitchfork?). Beyond noting that the music on each disc is well worth owning, I’m not even going to mention the sounds at all. Here, I’m more concerned with the stuff, the material aspects of this LITA reissue project.
Several weeks ago, I received a package in the mail. This is always an exciting moment for me, but this time around it was triply exciting for all three of the above mentioned discs snuggled together inside. I’m no music biz insider or record reviewer, just a subscriber to LITA’s cd-of-the-month club, the gift (to myself) that keeps on giving; I’m a sucker for these deals, where one pays up front for a year’s worth of releases. But getting the discs well ahead of actual release date (not that big of deal to me, since I have little time to actually enjoy listening to them before anyone else can) is almost unimportant to the promise of the package itself.
The CDs were not alone in that padded envelope, and I promptly I set them aside so as to poke through the other contents. I knew there would be more inside, as the label said as much in the subscription promotional materials. Constituting the second installment in my LITA subscription, this package offered a treasure trove parallel to the first (a reissue of a “lost” concept album by Canadian composer/arranger Doug Randle called Songs for the New Industrial State—great stuff!). Item by item, I withdrew from the envelope the trinkets assembled by a LITA staffer. Questions arose: who pulled this collection together? was it the same set of goodies for each subscriber? a material riddle, tied to particular songs on the discs or just to the overall ambiance? a random assortment of junk from the closest dollar store (or, more likely, Archie McPhee & Co.).
Ultimately, opening the package was fun (as was taking the photos), and pondering what the objects inside “meant” in relation to the reissues (as objects) and/or the music therein (as sounds) was part of the ritual experience. While I had paid for the discs, the stuff that came with them comprised a gift, a gesture of “more” that might be interpreted in a range of ways, from the cynical (they’re just getting suckers like me to feel part of the “in” crowd) to the magical (the extra objects add something to the overall commercial process of rereleasing old records). That is to say, these things do something beyond clogging up junk drawers. Whether that something is positive, negative, or somewhere in between depends on your perspective (or habitus, I suppose). No grand statements or insights there, just an observation on some stuff.
As it turns out, I received the third package of the year from LITA today, and it looks to be a fine one. Nothing too semantically elaborate accompanying the disc (a reissue of Coming from Reality by Rodriguez; don’t know if this has been reviewed yet…)—a signed poster of young Rodriguez in the recording studio, and Issue One of the LITA Zine—so no big mysteries to unravel. But, it’s a package nonetheless—and one that I relished opening.