Method vs. Madness

Pitchfork TV’s new online video channel, “One Week Only,” is currently streaming a fascinating documentary about one of the preeminent collectors of 78 rpm records and a vital link to a wellspring of original American music that will give pause to anyone who has spent time digging for records.

“Desperate Man Blues,” chronicles the story of Joe Bussard, a lifelong resident of Frederick, Maryland, who has amassed a collection of over 25,000 original pressings of traditional blues, jazz and country music recorded in the years immediately preceding the Great Depression. Widely considered one of the most expansive and most important collections of traditional American music in the world, Bussard’s library is unique not only in its sheer scale, but also in the quality of each selection.? In Bussard’s ample stacks, one will find original pressings (in many cases the only surviving copy) of the likes of Robert Johnson, Blind Willie McTell, Uncle Dave Macon and thousands of artists whose music represents the diverse patchwork of the American south, from the hillbilly music of Appalachia, to the cowboy music of Oklahoma and Texas, to the Piedmont style of blues popular in Georgia, Virginia and Tennessee . As writer Eddie Dean puts in the documentary, ” You just won’t find a lot of junk. A lot of people have a lot of records. He’s got a lot of good ones.”

Bussard started his collection in the mid-1950s when he began traveling literally door-to-door asking whoever was home if they had any records they wanted to sell. This strategy proved successful:? at the time, television was quickly taking over as the primary source of household entertainment, leaving the radio and victrola player- and by extension their 78 records– as outdated and useless objects that took up space.? Seizing the opportunity to pay people a miniscule fee to these records off their hands, Bussard began to assemble a historical record of this country as rich as any anthropological study. As his thirst for these recordings grew, he continued his travels, heading deeper and deeper into the south, his quest bringing him to the front steps of homes as varied as the music he collected: rich and deeply poor, black and white, all for the sake of scoring that next record.

Forty years later, Bussard is still at it, demonstrating the quirky, narrow taste I suppose is necessary for such pursuits (”Any music made after the depression cannot be called jazz,” is just one nugget of his many negative opinions on modern music.)? While his collection is worthy of several rooms of the Smithsonian or the Library of Congress, what’s most endearing about Bussard to me is his commitment to making this music accessible. As evidenced by the constant stream of musicians, reporters and music lovers who come into his basement, what’s most important to Bussard is that his records get played, that people get to hear these artists, dance, smoke and enjoy themselves in the company of this great music.? It’s refreshing to see that for all the rarity of his 78s, Bussard gets the most pleasure from what’s on them, a deep love with all the great music made a very long time ago.

Thank god they made records.

Desperate Man Blues (2006), directed by Edward Gillen can be purchased from Dust to Digital or is available to rent via Netflix.

You can also view the entire documentary, in 10 parts, over at http://pitchfork.tv/?p=one-week-only

*Update*

Unfortunately, the folks at Pitchfork have taken down the documentary from their site (I guess they literally meant one week only).? It’s definitely a worthwhile flick, so please try the other channels if you can

Via Light in the Attic