Movie: Desperate Man Blues

Joe Bussard (80 years old today, July 11) is a collector of 78s in Frederick MD. He's been collecting since he was about 15. His collection is widely regarded as the best record collection in the world -- at least for what it is.

Joe only collects 78s, and only 78s from about 1927-1935. Records during the depth of the Depression were rare to begin with, and not well preserved. Joe has approximately 25,000 discs, many of them extremely rare, and quite a few are the only known copies. He specializes in music nobody else has heard of.

Joe has very strong opinions. "Jazz ended in 1933. Rock & roll is a cancer on music, wrecked everything. Nothing recorded after 1935 is worth a shit." But he's very passionate (and animated!) about the music he likes, and has made great efforts to share his passion -- he has hosted a weekly radio program for 50 years, he makes custom cassettes from his collection for 50 cents a song, he meets with fans from all over the world, he does interviews and happily participates in documentaries.

The "Desparate Man Blues" documentary was put together by an Australian crew that followed Joe around for four days. He shows off his collection -- which takes up his entire basement -- and is shown dancing and giggling to song after song. His joy in this music is infectious. The disc also includes another shorter documentary, and a bunch of interviews, and a one hour radio show.

There have been several CDs released from Joe's collection; I bought one called "Down in the Basement" with 24 of his favorite obscurities (all nicely cleaned up). I have a limited endurance for this moonshiner hillbilly shit but in small quantities it's a pleasant diversion from everyday life.

It caused me to pull out a compilation I made several years ago I called "Hillbillies and Cowboys" with songs 1924-1941 from the likes of Vernon Dalhart, Gid Tanner & The Skillet Lickers, the Carter Family, Jimmie Rodgers, Roy Acuff, Sons of the Pioneers.... This is the well-known stuff, as opposed to Bussard's collection of obscurities.

Yesterday I ran across, for cheap at Half Price Books, a 4-cd boxed set of 1920s jazz from Bussard's collection (who died a couple months ago).  As opposed to the novelty songs of the other CD this one is all chunka-chunka jazz, of the banjo, trumpet & washboard variety. Like the other, a little bit goes a long way.

I don't know what they did to clean up the 78s, but there is absolutely no surface noise or cracks and pops.  The frequency range is from about 200Hz to 1000Hz, like listening to a cheap AM radio but with this style of music it seems appropriate.

Liner notes are minimal.  The bands and song titles are listed on a slipsheet but that's it.  

These songs are a hundred years old.  The players are all dead, and long forgotten.  They're anonymous, and their music is strangely interchangeable. It's funny to consider that these recordings are like some kind of Mayan ruins, devoid of context, sticking out in the sand like a sun-bleached mystery. All that remains of a once-vibrant culture.

Who would have thought music would fossilize?

The "Down In The basement" CD is up on Youtube, so I gave it a listen. Well, for ten minutes or so. I think there's a good reason that sort of stuff isn't so popular these days.