I’m not gonna lie.  I’m pretty nervous for Part 2 of “Kenya Day” in a few hours.  I mean, my legs already feel pretty destroyed after this mornings first “long distance” attempt in over a year, and I now have to go out and run uh-gain.

I must be batshit-fucking-bonkers!

Anyway, that means I need to be proactive then and slap on my compression socks and spend the next little bit refueling, re-hydrating and stretching out ‘ol Thunder n’ Lightning before that craziness commences.  And while doing so, I’m listening to the ‘Country Music Festival‘ album.


If there is anything as gratifying as the smell of musty cardboard and dusty vinyl I haven’t experienced it, and this album has it in spades.  In fact, it could pass as a ripe cowboy’s armpit after three weeks of rustlin’ cattle out on the ‘ol plain.

Stinks so good!

This is another 50 cent Goodwill Hunting find from Thursday’s trip into St. Catharines.  I love these beat up old records, specifically when they feature artists in their prime like Johnny Cash, Lefty Frizzell, Johnny Horton, Flatt & Scruggs, Marty Robbins and the very awesome Nash Family Trio – I wonder if there’s any relation?

As the albums title suggests, this album is based on some live country music festival somewhere hosted by Carl Smith otherwise known as “Mister Country”.  You might better recognize him as the father of June Carter who would later go on to marry none other than Johnny Cash himself.  The different tracks on the record feature hit songs of the time by all the famous country legends of the day (from their latest record no less) making it a nice addition to my collection of Twing Twang records.

IMG_1725These kinds of records were really popular back in the late 50’s and early 60’s making this record a bit of a time capsule.  On the back cover it advertises “Inside: Wallet Size Photographs of These Stars” but they have long since been lost to time.  Too bad, really.  I can just imagine that the previous owner – who was likely a big country fan – had these photos of their heroes posted up and around their bedroom wall.

And speaking of “owner”, that’s another thing that attracted me to the record, there is a label on the front cover proclaiming the album used to belong to one ‘Mrs. J. S. Lajoie‘ from Chateauguay, Quebec (I forgive you for losing the photos).  To me, that gives this particular record an identity of it’s own and therefore a better existence then sitting unnoticed in a back corner of a Goodwill shop.  After all, someone loved it enough once to slap their name on it and mark it as their property so I figure it’s absolutely deserving of a better home.

I’ve even put out feelers over Facebook to see if I can track down the owner because, well, that interests me and I’ve managed to do this successfully before (click HERE).

And here’s something else that I love about these old school records (from the back cover):

“This Columbia High Fidelity recording is scientifically designed to play with the highest quality of reproduction on the phonograph of your choice, new old.”


This shit was state-of-the-art back then…scientific even.

I love that.

Of course, this record has seen some better days but as with most old records I don’t mind the odd snap, crackle and pop.  They’re just like the inevitably wrinkles we all get as we get on in years.  I think of these small scuffs and scratches as merely “character lines”.

So, probably for the first time in a very long time, this record has seen the light of day once again.  And after a thorough cleaning, made this afternoon’s relaxing yoga stretch a rather unique and memorable one.


About crazytigerrabbitman

I am a fat guy and always will be in the same way they say that “once an alcoholic; always an alcoholic”. Eventually I got upset about my poor health and ballooning body frame so I decided to change things for the better. Some people sign up for Weight Watchers, Jenny Craig, or whatever fad diet program it is that happens to be occupying the majority of air time on the boob tube. Other people prefer to run out and purchase the latest, fold away, piece of shit being hawked by some celebrity has-been. Me? I decided to take up triathlon. I had abused my body over the years with bacon cheeseburgers, pints of beer and double-dipped donuts, and the time had now come to abuse my body with physical exertion, perseverance and hard work instead; penitence in it's purest form. The time had come to kick my ass. I am Terry Nash and I am the “fat and the furious”.
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