My musics. Let me show you them.

A couple of months ago I ran across a LibraryThing-like site called Rate Your Music, a cataloging/rating site for recordings of all kinds that you own, used to own, wish you had, u.s.w.  (Incidentally, a tip of the glengarry to Celine for pointing me to LibraryThing; that’s next on the list of Things to Explore, ’cos L has been wanting some way to catalog our home library and that looks like it might be just what we were after.)  RYM is a moderated site, with a crew of volunteer site admins and moderators who review and approve submitted material, trying to keep up the information quality rather than letting it degenerate into a Wikipedia-like state, with good information and bad jumbled together and no way to tell them apart.

After a VERY short period of experimenting with it, I started serious work toward entering the music we have, and it’s turning out to be more than I realized.  At this point, I’ve cataloged 598 vinyl LPs*, 115 CDs, and 24 cassettes, and I’m now working my way through the 45s and 78s.  The 78s are really challenging, because many of them are orphans and singletons out of albums, and those that aren’t are indifferently documented online.  Release dates are a particular bugbear, because many of the listings are for-sales at commercial sites, and a link that was valid in Google last year may be long gone by now, along with the information I was hoping to capture.

But even though I’m not done—the 78s will take me another week or so to finish—it’s complete enough to be interesting.  G’wan . . . satisfy yer curiosity about what I’ve listened to .  (You know you wanna . . .)

* Many of the pre-1972 LPs are from Jaxon’s collection.  When we all got gentrified out of our cozy slum-with-a-great-address (Bellevue Avenue, in a little cut-off corner of the Rosedale neighborhood) back in 1996, he and Tina didn’t want to haul Jack’s several hundred LPs, to which they mostly hadn’t listened in years, to their new house, and were ready to throw them in the trash.  I almost had a coronary at that idea, so Tina said “If you want them, take them,” and I did, hauling them across the street in a wheelbarrow to our place.

A candled rose melts on a silicon cyan checkerboard.  Fnord.