Telly the Truth

Being a fan of ye olde Apple and their many fine products, and as well one who knows a good satire when I see it, I can often be found stopping by Fake Steve’s blog. And out of the blue a couple days back, he drops this bombshell: Focus.

Anyone else even remember these guys? Like I said over there, I was lucky enough to catch them live in 1975 (yeah I’m that old, ok?) in Denmark. Dutch guys who were weird, but just unbelievably tight. At the time, I didn’t know what I was seeing. I knew it blew my mind, that much was clear. But it was one of those formative moments, you know? Like, I might not be collecting records today if lightning didn’t strike that day in Denmark.

After work yesterday I went over to Fifth Avenue Records. No offense to the proprietors, who have always been very kind to me (I pay them well enough, after all) but this place is … difficult. They know it. Everyone knows it. It’s something you learn to accept. It’s not the kind of place you go to looking for a Focus record, it’s the kind of place you fall ass-backward into a stack of Focus records. But go there looking for one I did. And I didn’t fall into a stack of them, no sir. But I was told in no uncertain terms that there was definitely a copy of Focus 3 in the building. It had come in as part of a big used stack earlier that week, and was sure to be found unsorted somewhere… oh, let’s see… somewhere over… there (imagine the completely non-specific hand wave you wouldn’t want to see accompanying a sentence like that).

It was an adventure. My dust allergies took hold and didn’t let go until well into the evening. But 90 minutes, one claritin, and two annoying concentration-busting conversations with unusually rude “fans” later, I, three Chinese take-out boxes, and seven new platters of vinyl made our way back to my apartment - among us, an absolutely pristine copy of Focus 3. Delicious. I popped it onto the Kuzma (don’t get me started, that’s another post) and was taken waaaay back for the rest of the evening.

Truth be told, it’s rare that I’d really get off on a record like this. When the mood hits right, you can’t beat it. But those moods are blue moons, you know? Still, it’s one of those collection-makers, the kind of record that is worth its price in the images it conjures alone. That describes a lot of your proggier rock, I guess.