Musical Gifts and Kindred Spirits

In the movie Almost Famous, one of the characters gives this advice about life on the road: “If you ever get lonely, just go to the record store and visit your friends.” To me, that quote encapsulates two of the great things about being a music fan – that music itself is your friend, and that music can connect you to fascinating people all over the world. Serious music fans can be quirky and prickly, but if they recognize a kindred spirit, they can share some incredible discoveries.

I’m currently reading Respect, David Ritz’s new biography of Aretha Franklin. The book is remarkable not only for its blunt portrayal of Franklin’s life, but also for its thorough depiction of the many musical styles that influenced Franklin’s work. And what made me think about the wonderful community among music fans is the book’s description of Franklin’s early career. There are two references in there that would mean nothing to me without my encounters with two other music fans.

Franklin’s father, the Rev. C.L. Franklin, was a spiritual and social leader in Detroit’s black community, and he would often invite touring musicians to his house for impromptu jam sessions. One of the musicians that Franklin and her sisters got to hear performing in their home was vocalist Arthur Prysock – whose work I was introduced to by Bob Switzer at Taz Records in Halifax.

When I lived on Prince Edward Island, Taz was my musical lifeline. It was (and is) the best independent record store in Atlantic Canada, and a trip to Halifax always had to include a visit to Taz. Bob, Taz’s founder and owner, was the gruff presence behind the tiny counter at the front of the store. He had no time for people who only wanted to buy the latest top 40 drivel (kind of like this), but if he could see that you truly loved music, he would strike up a conversation with you and let you browse in the store for as long as you wanted.

During one visit to Taz, I ended up spending the entire morning in the store, looking through the racks and listening to Bob talk to the customers that wandered in and out. At one point during that morning, Bob asked me what jazz musicians I liked. I admitted that jazz isn’t one of my favourite types of music, which made him frown. He asked what I thought of singers like Frank Sinatra. I said I liked some of Sinatra’s big band music, didn’t think much of his more recent music, but regardless of what Sinatra sang I liked his technique and the quality of his voice. Bob gave a half-smile and said, “Then you’ll like this.” He put a CD on the store’s sound system, and I heard a stunningly smoky baritone voice singing “Blue Velvet”.

“Holy sh*t!” I said, “who is this?” And Bob’s face broke into a broad smile. “This”, he said, “is Arthur Prysock.” Of course, I bought the CD, and have found and enjoyed even more of Prysock’s work since then. Bob passed away a few years ago, but Taz Records is still going and is still very much worth a visit.


The Arthur Prysock CD that I first heard at Taz Records. (credit: own photo)

Most people probably know Aretha Franklin as a soul/r&b vocalist, from songs like “Respect”, but before she hit it big with that song, she released several LPs of jazz, gospel and pop songs. One of the jazz songs she covered – on her 1964 album Unforgettable – is “This Bitter Earth”. A few months ago, I didn’t even know this song existed. But in November, I heard it for the first time when it was performed at the memorial service for Drew Burns, the former owner of Vancouver’s Commodore Ballroom.

The program for Drew's memorial service at the Commodore. (credit: own photo)

The program for Drew’s memorial service at the Commodore. (credit: own photo)

During my career as a music critic, I got to know Drew very well, because I went to shows at the Commodore at least twice a week. Drew was a kind and gracious host who welcomed regulars like myself and my friend Tom Harrison into his office – its decor aptly described by one speaker at the memorial as “an HR person’s nightmare” – and made us all feel at home. Drew booked every kind of music at the Commodore – and treated every musician professionally and respectfully – so you couldn’t tell his personal tastes in music from what he presented at his venue.

I remembered from one conversation with Drew that he liked blues and big band music, but it wasn’t until the memorial service that I found out he also deeply loved jazz. And “This Bitter Earth” was one of his favorite songs. When I heard it at the memorial, I thought, “This song is dark. And deep. And kind of off-center.” And since then, thanks to YouTube, I’ve found several different versions of the song – and really come to appreciate what a great song it is.

Music creates communities of kindred spirits, and it creates the most unexpected rewards. If you’re not a music fan, I can’t explain to you how this works – I’m not sure that I fully understand it myself – but I am incredibly grateful for the gifts of music that other fans have introduced me to. Support your local record store (especially on Record Store Day, April 18) and your local live music venue, because you know what? Your friends are there. And they might help you discover some incredible things.


  1. Thank you for starting a trail of musical breadcrumbs with Arthur Prysock – it’s led me, via Wikipedia on to Billy Eckstine and Sarah Vaughan. And, satisfyingly, on to Carleen Anderson and her tribute to Sarah Vaughan that’s coming to Brighton Festival in May. Got the last couple of tickets, up in the gods. So thanks for signposting that too.

    I was thinking, last night, when my son’s secondary school put on a musical evening for parents, that there’s no other school subject that’s so joyfully shared. The Maths department would find it hard to sell tickets for an evening of Maths (with equations performed on stage?) but you only have to be human to revel in music. We’re lucky creatures.

    All best wishes

  2. Your post really resonated with me.
    I played my own music collection in my dental practice. Patients would hear something and make recommendations, much like Bob did. It really broadened my horizons. Eva Cassidy was just one I was introduced to in that way, by a black preacher, no less.
    Others had stories to tell, like the patient who played in high school marching band with Nat and Cannonball Adderley.
    And during some extremely challenging high school years, music helped to heal a relationship with my son, and to forge bonds that still continue.
    There is great power in music.
    Thanks for the post!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.