Cornwall: wheat + chaff
Another visit to the Cornish car boot proves the theory that some records are simply born secondhand.
I return to the car boot at the cattle market to see if the couple from Carluddon are there again. I want to see if I can go round to their house and look at their records, not least because it’d be a really weird thing to do.
Alas, they're not here today. One guy who looks like a potential murderer has a small pile of discs. I chance a rummage, but it’s all Jim Reeves and the Seekers, stuff like that. This is the same crap you see in every charity shop round the country. What is all this stuff? I have a theory that there's a certain breed of record that's never not been secondhand. Came out the womb with a needle on it.
I move on. A small stash reveals an LP of Chinese Taoist music, which is a pretty weird find for Cornwall, and a Bill Withers 45, Lean On Me. Not so bothered by that, but James Gadson has a credit on it. He's a legend of funk drums, and it's three for a quid, so I buy it figuring the flip, Better Off Dead, could be good. Turns out to be a decent purchase (bongos and bass at the start):
Once again though, there's one guy here with a full table of records. Turns out he’s a Cornish boy now living in France, who’s come back for a weekend to see his old mates. So naturally he's standing in a field at a car boot.
His box of 45s is awesome, and includes Miles Davis' Ascenseur Pour L'échafaud and James Brown's Ain’t It Funky Now. Quid each. Plus an actor’s dialogue record by the vaguely Fascist-sounding British Drama League – an English woman doing a horrendously caricatured New York accent as an example for the rest of us.
Same woman as on this clip:
It's amazing how people have jobs.