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Life is full of the unexpected, don't you think? As Stephen commented when he first arrived at Patrick's, "I pass by this building all the time. It's so cool to know that all this great music and hifi exists inside." And here at Patrick's, even once you're inside, there are many layers, some more obvious than others, that reveal themselves upon closer inspection. Like a small, simple book lying on a side table titled Poems and Translations by Hugh Amory, Patrick's father whom I later learned "was at once the most rigorous and the most methodologically sophisticated historian of the book in early America". Or like the seemingly descriptive category of African Music I came with which subsequently unfolded into highlife, afro-beat, afro-funk and the other distinct forms I left with. Mental note: Our level of interest informs our point of view. While the opposite can also be true, it will rarely get you somewhere unexpected, i.e. something new.

Box Lunch
Sometimes I think of LPs as little take-out containers. You know the kind you get from a Chinese restaurant that keeps your food unbelievably hot for an unbelievably long time for such an unbelievably low-tech device. The interesting part being, all containers are not the same. Sure, they look the same from the outside but when you open them up, you'll find that some hold much more than others. In fact, I've bought albums that when opened unfold to reveal another box which when unfolded reveals... yet another box. And so on. By the time you've explored, opened and unfolded, a huge shadow has moved over your familiar musical landscape to shed light on a once dark, murky patch. Your oh-so-clear musical point of view just got re-informed. That neat, tidy little picture you worked so hard to cultivate has been graffiti-fied; sprayed over to paint something at once unfamiliar but undeniably intriguing. You've been hooked, lined and sinker'd into a new path, a new musical thread. And this unfolding, this new expanse you've caught a glimpse of is what drives the adventurous collector. A sense of discovery. Soul food.
The book

As our evening was wearing down, we sat around Patrick's old Westinghouse console and listened to the 78 El soldado de levita by Marfil Y Valencia, another example of insanely infectious music that is embodied in the son huasteco style from northeastern Mexico (so I've recently learned). And as one of the singers held onto a lone falsetto note for so ridiculously long it turned into a pure piercing tone touching something deep inside, I couldn't help but feel purposeful. Like some sort of initiate member of a tribe whose goal is the preservation of the joy that is music; its discovery and its appreciation. And people like Patrick share this passion, this joy which is the direct result of time, energy and research. And they share for the fun of it, for the joy of it and for the love of it. As the first few scratchy notes emanating from the Westinghouse console hit my ears, I felt an immediate and unexpected uplifting of spirits. Dreams drift on music.

Driving home from Patrick's home into the darkness that can still be found in certain corners of New Jersey, I planned to follow Patrick's example and enthusiasm and explore some of the music he shared, bringing this new thread into my life. Bringing this foreign yet involving sound home to shed its light on new possibilities I've yet to dream of.