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Jason Crawford
Welp. I seem to have come to a place in my collecting expedition where I’m just buying new editions of records that I already own in hopes of finding the “grail” version. Not exclusively. But often. Springsteen’s Nebraska, Wilco’s Yankee Hotel Foxtrot, Tribe’s Low-End Theory, Aretha’s Spirit In the Dark, Prince’s 1999. Those are a few. I’ve also had access to the recent Tone Poet reissue of Blue Train that I can compare to my Music Matters Jazz take, and the Vinyl Me, Please (VMP) version of Buena Vista Social Club to compare to my Bernie Grundman-mastered edition on World Circuit. Amongst others. You get the idea.
Recently, VMP reissued Check Your Head by Beastie Boys. And they didn’t skimp on anything except the pressing plant. “AAA lacquers cut from the original master tapes by Ryan Smith, Sterling Sound.” No room for ambiguity there. This is an all-analog production, a rarity in the Hip-Hop world, certainly, and not overly common outside the Jazz district, really. At least as far as popular music is concerned.
I snagged my copy and immediately did what any reputable, irresponsible vinyl fiend would do: I set up a shootout between VMP’s recent release and a version of Check Your Head I have from 1998 – purchased new a scant six years past the classic album’s initial release. Despite the age of the elder record, it’s in remarkable condition, if I do say so myself. Probably better off than it was when I bought it due to having enjoyed multiple baths via a variety of cleaners. To the surprise of exactly no one that knows me, I even retained the hype sticker. It says this in addition to some other stuff: “Back on wax like the higher powers intended… throw away your CD and buy the vinyl.” This version was mastered by… Dave. Or maybe he just cut the lacquers. Regardless, his name is stenciled in the dead wax. It was pressed at I-Don’t-Know-Where.
Now. Do this…
Throw away Dave’s version and buy VMP’s. That’s my advice. Dave’s is louder. Beyond that, VMP’s cuts the ’98 pressing in every way. Check Your Head is a legendarily “In Your Face” affair. Hell, there’s fuzz on nearly every available surface. And Smith’s remaster still reveals more clarity and detail. The grit is grittier. But somehow cleaner too. Makes the ’98 take sound like your speakers are under a wet mover’s blanket. This is especially evident during “Lighten Up,” one of the more placid moments on the record. The soundstage is wider, the “harmonies” less enmeshed, the individual voices much easier to parse. The highs are airier, the lows a bit tighter, but still thumping.
And GZ did an amazing job pressing these records. (On red vinyl. Always with the colored vinyl.) Both discs are flawless, and I mean that. It’s not that there are no repeating issues. It’s that I haven’t heard a single tick or pop at all ever on any of the four sides. Both discs are flat, possibly because they’re also lighter than the now standard 180-gram offerings. I’ll take that trade-off every time. There’s a version of Check Your Head from 2009, pressed at RTI, that people seem to really enjoy. I’ve not heard it, but I’d love to. If it can compete with the VMP release, as it reportedly can, then it sounds phenomenal.
VMP experienced a quality control crisis not too long ago, specifically with regard to their records pressed at GZ, and they seem to have (mostly) rebounded from it. I can’t wait to hear what comes out of their own plant, which is supposedly set to open sometime in the early new year. I think. In the meantime, you can now wade into the VMP waters with less fear of getting bitten. I got a severely warped record from them recently (not pressed at GZ) and they refunded me because they didn’t have any more copies of the title in stock. Stuff happens, and stuff is annoying. But there’s nothing annoying about this version of Check Your Head. Trust that. As far as I know, it’s definitive.
Alright. That was fun. Let’s keep rolling with our reissue comparisons long enough to check out something from a series I’ve been really interested in exploring for a while now…
Analogue Productions recently released (then sold out of) Rastaman Vibration by Bob Marley and the Wailers as part of their Ultra High-Quality Records Series. “Ultra,” they say!! According to my dictionary, that means “extreme; to an extreme degree.” Ultra, by golly!! (I just like saying it so much that I think it warrants additional exclamation points.)
Anyway, AP presses these releases on the opposite of colored vinyl – that being “clarity vinyl,” which Classic Records also used on occasion as evidenced by my stellar Big Star records from those folks. Those pressings were especially clean so I had high hopes going in for the Marley record.
The AP series is, not surprisingly, pressed at the company’s own QRP plant. (That stands for “Quality Record Pressing.” Not as boisterous as “Ultra High-Quality Record Pressing” so let’s hope for the best.) QRP has been highly revered since well before it deserved to be, in my opinion. I used to get consistently flawed pressings from them, but that has not been the case in more recent years. At this point, I trust them as much as my other favorites, so I felt relatively safe plunking down the $125 for this single record.
So did 3,499 other people. Rastaman was released on November 16, I ordered my copy six days later, and I received an email the next day saying that the run had completely sold out. Is this a case of “artificial scarcity?” Or is there actually a company in the world that focuses so intently on their quality control that they’re willing to leave untold thousands of dollars on the table in the interest of manufacturing the best possible product?
Well… I don’t know.
But I know this: this is an ultra-high-quality release. It’s phenomenal in every way. A sealed copy sold online in the United States two days ago for $600. I’m still paying off my student loans, and I’m still glad that I opened my copy, tanked its financial value, and played it. I will continue to play it. I gave mine an ultrasonic (!!!) bath, and I can’t imagine that a reel-to-reel produced by the same team would sound much better.
Of note: Ryan Smith, of VMP’s Check Your Head fame, remastered this release too. His name is firmly entrenched on the mountaintop alongside the other industry greats, at this point. And not solely based on the Rastaman release. He’s behind the bulk of VMP’s Classics series too, and that ain’t nothing. I don’t pretend to be an authority on these matters, but I trust him as surely as I do Kevin Gray by now.
I really enjoyed the Marley “half-speed” reissue campaign from 2020, especially the Exodus release, which I thought was really great. Still do. A friend of mine in the audiophile vinyl community didn’t dig the series. I trust his judgment. But these things are, after all, a matter of opinion. I have (used to have) some really inferior Marley pressings that I was thrilled to replace with the 2020 takes. My buddy has some original Marley pressings that he says smoke the half-speed series (which was pressed at Optimal with lacquers cut by Miles Showell). To be fair, the bass on Catch A Fire was pretty loose and borderline sloppy at times. But I thought the Rastaman record was top-notch.
For me, there’s really no comparison between the half-speed remaster of Rastaman and the AP version. I mean, the pressings are both superb. If I’m nitpicking, and at this price point I have to, the spindle hole on my AP copy is too tight. This means that I risk damaging the record when removing it from my turntable. But that’s it. The percussion sounds seem like they’re in your head rather than your speakers. You can almost see the glowing tubes on the electric guitar amps during the original recording sessions. The vocalists are in your lap, smoke pouring out of everyone’s ears. I could have lived happily ever after with the 2020 reissue, but, in retrospect, I’m glad I didn’t have to.
For people who love Steely Dan, I’d recommend buying as many of their titles from this series as you can comfortably, or uncomfortably, afford. The packaging is a bit over the top as far as shelf space goes. I’m gonna stash the giant box and just keep the album in the gatefold cover with the rest of my collection. That’s not a complaint about the packaging, it’s an acknowledgment of my lack of available room. These releases could clearly be treated as financial investments, but then you’d deprive yourself of a truly stellar listening experience.
If you’re in it for the sound, this is an ultra (!!!) high-quality sonic event.
It’s been a little over a year since we’ve checked in on what the folks at Vinyl Moon are doing. To summarize: VM is a vinyl subscription service that sends members a record per month. Their compilations document the work of semi-obscure artists, and they’re pressed on colored vinyl. A “vinyl music blog,” if you will. Some bit of ephemera is included with each release.
When we last heard from them here at Secrets, they were given favorable marks for their artwork (a focus for the company) and their song selection, but not the quality of their pressings. As mentioned previously, they declined to identify what pressing plant they’d used, so I didn’t bother asking on this go-‘round. But I can say this much: the two records I received from them recently are both well-pressed. A noticeable improvement over the two I got last year.
That’s not to suggest that they’re perfect, but they’re more than passable. No reasonable listener would complain, especially members of what I suspect is their targeted demographic. (Hint: its constituents are almost certainly significantly younger than the author, and probably younger than the majority of Secrets readers. I probably shouldn’t make assumptions, but I do it all the time anyway. Not stopping now.)
Of the two records that I received this month, Volumes 083 and 085, I’m most enamored with the artwork for the latter. VM called the compilation Mental Wealth, and Jared Sylvia’s visuals suggest a Surrealist influence and maybe some Pointillism too. “Mindscapes” involving moons and tigers and stairways and galaxies. Etcetera. An iron-on patch that would have made my thirteen-year-old heart sing was included. I glued it to the side of my lunchbox right before I wrapped my outdated textbooks in paper grocery bags for added protection. Got my short pants on, and I’m ready for class.
Musically, almost every song on Mental Wealth is an instrumental, which is not uncommon in the Vinyl Moon world, as best I can tell. The two songs with vocals (David Scott McLean’s “Te Cantos Colores” and Just Leila x BYRN’s “Approach Toi”) are in Spanish and French, respectively. I dig it. I like to write & draw while listening to music, but I get distracted by vocals that I can comprehend so these records scratch a particular itch for me. There are two songs on the nine-song set that jumped out at me: One is by Zaion Rocker from Barcelona. It’s called “Pájaros de Barrio,” and it’s a groover. As the artist’s pseudonym implies, there’s a Dub influence along with some electronic drums and fuzzed out electric guitar that drives things along.
The other is by Sovate from Stevens Point, Wisconsin (the birthplace of American Roots Music), and it’s called “In My Heart.” Again, with the electronic drums, built for dancing, lots of synthesized sounds. Gives a little weight to the middle section of side two and keeps the head nodding.
All of this pressed on “translucent orange vinyl with a blue blob.” (I didn’t make that up.)
Overall, I prefer the music on Vol. 083: Lost and Sound. But don’t tell any of my Rock ’n Roll pals. Certainly not the Punks. Lots of pops and bleeps and dreamy dance stuff. Feel like I should be in a lounge somewhere with a bunch of overdressed women and dudes with shiny shirts and hair gel. Sign me up. At least for this round. Easy to play in the background, nothing too amazing, but also not distracting. I have a use for this type of thing even if I don’t find a focused listen especially rewarding. My mind often needs a vacation. This’ll do just fine.
Seems like the Lost and Sound installment kicked off a new artistic era for Vinyl Moon that involves “augmented reality” enabled artwork. To this, I say… whatever. I spent a fair amount of time waving my phone around trying to scan some code. Had to download an app. Eventually, some artwork popped up, and I could move it around with my finger. But then, the music stopped playing. And I don’t like listening to music on my phone anyway. That’s why I have records. All that stuff is for somebody, but it ain’t for me. “YMMV,” as the kids might say.
I give the folks at Vinyl Moon kudos for creativity, and for trying new things. I like their physical packaging and much of their (almost certainly digital) crate-digging finds. Mastering and pressings are good enough. If I had it my way, vinyl listening, and “digital experiences” would remain separate. But one must be of one’s time, I suppose. If you’re looking for something different, maybe give these folks a look and a listen.