QUOTE OF THE WEEK: “I’m a fan of old-fashioned writing. I do like rhyme, when it comes off. I hate silly rhymes, but when they work, they’re the greatest little things in songwriting.” — Sir Paul McCartney, author of “Silly Love Songs.”

SONG OF THE WEEK: “Sample And Hold” — Neil Young

Now here’s the upside: My girlfriend is THRILLED—for the first time in five years, our living room doesn’t look like the used bin aisle in a Cheapo store. All of the offending discs (can’t remember exactly how many, but there are now 11,317 songs, or 668 hours, 26 minutes, and 27 seconds worth of music on my computer—good thing I’m not into porn, huh? There’d be no room!) have been unceremoniously boxed up and shipped off to the garage, where I’m thinking of starting a monthly CD library for my buddies. I’ll slip ‘em 25 or so discs each month, and when they’re done listening, they can bring ‘em back for more. It’ll be like the Public Library, only with 97 percent more kick-ass selections!! Hmm..I wonder if I should charge a six-pack as a late fee?

But back to me—I’ve stumbled upon several other positive side effects of The Big Transfer along the way. For instance, many of the albums I’d purchased or burned from friends over the years had received only minimal play, sometimes just one or two songs that I’d repeatedly jam or stick on some hapless acquaintance’s mix. Now I’m actually hearing whole albums, or if I throw the jukebox (Windows Media Player—I’m nothing if not easy to please) into “Shuffle” mode; singles, outtakes, live tracks, oddball comedy bits (I don’t think one has truly lived until one’s heard Bill Hicks’ “Your Children Aren’t Special” unwittingly segue into Alice Cooper’s “Department Of Youth”), and the occasional moldy oldie (Everyone should be exposed to Paper Lace’s “The Night Chicago Died” at least once a decade—or at least often enough to remind themselves of how much worse kiddie pop has gotten in the past 30 years) I’d long relegated to the furthest reaches of my fried-out cerebral cortex.

At first, when I only had a couple thousand songs, I’d get a repeat here and there throughout the day, or the damn thing would stick and play the same song twice in a row, but since I hit the 10,000 mark, it’s been pretty much smooth sailing all the way. Oh, sure, once every few hours a tune comes wafting in that reminds me of why I had originally never listened to the whole CD more than once or twice from that particular artist, but hell, when that happens I just drop what I’m doing, zip over to the PC, and hit the magical “Delete” button. Voila, presto, yee-haw, and I’m back to the nonstop, commercial-free non-hit (usually) festival that is the Tommy G. Jukebox Jamboree & Hootenanny.

I won’t say this project has diminished my insane passion for buying, collecting or playing vinyl records even a little bit, though—or even scoring old cassettes (for use in the car, generally) at garage sales, The Goodwill and used music stores—but it’s definitely changed my CD listening habits. If I get something new I like, I immediately throw it on the PC, toss the physical disc in a box, and add another 10 or 12 cuts to my modern listening experience.

The mix thing has changed, too—it’s far easier (but, I’m finding, less satisfying, even if it’s only because it used to take a 12-pack to get through making a mix on the old stereo, while I’m lucky to pound two or three cold ones making one on the computer) to just throw a blank disc in and pick through the Mighty Catalog than it was to stagger around my tiny music closet, fumbling at the shelves and squinting through dust and cigarette smoke to try and differentiate between Iggy & The Stooges and just plain Iggy Pop releases so I could make a drunken Stooges-related compilation for some young ‘un who’d only heard the Ig-ster howling “Lust For Life” on some cruise ship commercial.

I did keep all of my box sets in the house, though, if only for their aesthetically-pleasing presence and those great booklets—The Velvet Underground, Buffalo Springfield, Zappa, Black Sabbath, and the trusty Stax/Volt sets perch at bemused angles on a nice, clean, tidy shelf above my computer. Once in awhile, somebody comes over and yanks one down and spends an hour poring over the info—that makes it all worthwhile. Me, I just like lookin’ at ‘em these days. I can hear all the songs on my PC. La la la la. Grrr. I never did peel that damn banana, either. Stupid Andy Warhol.

And my stereo? That poor, dusty, overused, overplayed, alcohol-and-tobacco-stained black behemoth that’s been partially responsible for at least 600 mix CDs and cassettes, a half-dozen visits from various state and local law enforcement agencies (none of which were exactly welcomed by me, but did make for some pretty funny court visits and columns over time, and hey, who knows—maybe somewhere on the outskirts of Ramsey County, there’s an off-duty deputy gettin’ his/her rocks off to an Epic Soundtracks album, just cuz they came to tell me to turn one down!), and the demise of at least one or two personal relationships over the past five or six years? Well, it sulks over by the picture window like a dark, ancient gargoyle awaiting the day when my PC gets hit by lightning, or infected with some horrific, irreversible virus or worm, or just starts smoking, shrieking and melting in protest over the millions of hours of music I’ve thrust into its electronic guts like a ruthless Saxon conqueror at a village pillage. But hey, I’ve probably got scarier enemies that I can’t just unplug from the wall and stick in a box. Or can I? Hmmm. OK, we’ll save that idea for the next national election, and get back to the computer juke story. Sigh.

The most interesting, informative and fun part of the whole deal is, of course, letting the computer juke shuffle the tunes and spit ‘em back out at me willy-nilly, with no idea of the humor, horror or hijinx it may be responsible for. Coincidence, of course, is all we’re talkin’ here, and it could just be happening because my collection is simply chock full of songs about booze, politics, dope, fucking, loneliness, pain and heartbreak. Or it could be something more—something deeper, darker, and stronger than even that Black Sabbath box set or the guy who produced those ancient Paper Lace albums. Either way, each incident hit me hard enough from across the room (and sometimes out in the yard) that I raced over and wrote ‘em down. Now, I could literally recount dozens of such musical moments here, but in the interest of saving space, I’ll just throw out a short list containing some of the oddest aural highlights. All of the following songs played back-to-back on shuffle—enjoy!!

Tommy’s PC Jukebox Freak-Out List, Vol. 1:

1) “Heartbreak A Stranger” - Bob Mould
2) “Run, Run, Run (To The Centre Pompidou)” - Grant Hart (live @ The Turf Club)

*Alright, it’s true. I do have a shitload of Husker Du and Bob & Grant solo work in my collection. But this was one of the first coincidences I noticed, and it kinda freaked me out. Ah, if only such sentimental reunions were so easily achieved in the real world, eh?

3) “How Do You Sleep At Night?” - John Lennon
4) “Silly Love Songs” - Wings

*Yeah, this one sounds kind of hard to swallow, I know. But it happened, nonetheless. And though I love Sir Paulie’s knack for penning an enduring pop hook, it simply bared once again the huge difference in soul between the two ex-Beatles, and caused me to not only hit “stop” on the Wings track, but to replay the Lennon cut twice more. What does Paul need with respect? He’s got the money! Oh yeah, and his LIFE.

5) “Lonely Tear Drops” - Jackie Wilson
6) “Heart Attack On The Prairie” -Jack Logan

*While at first glance these two nuggets may not seem to have much in common, to a googley-eyed music nut like myself, it’s downright uncanny! Uncanny, I tell you!! Come on, man. Jackie Wilson, famous soul/R&B singer of the ’60s (and author of such mega-hits as “Your Love (Keeps Lifting Me Higher) was allegedly crooning “Lonely Tear Drops,” and specifically the line, “My heart is crying ...” when he dropped dead onstage of a fatal heart attack. I’m in the kitchen, doing the dishes and complaining under my breath about ashes and egg stains on plates, when suddenly Jackie fades and Georgia-based singer/songwriter Jack Logan comes easing out with his now-legendary tale of an equally fatal, Midwest-based infarction. Wow. Two Jacks on heart attacks? Brrr!!

7) “Chickenshit Conformist” - The Dead Kennedys
8) “Portrait Of A Sick America” - The Creekdippers

*Sure, these two bands are pretty close, alphabetically, on the ol’ PC juke. And sure, as I said, I do have an awful lot of politically-charged rock, pop, soul and country nestled in there. But as Jello’s Bay-centric punk hoots faded, it really was a welcome goose on the ol’ backside to hear Mark Olson holler, “I’m gonna punch George Bush/And the women will sing praises/Over his beaten body. ..” Sweet!

9) “There Stands The Glass” - Ted Hawkins
10) “I Ain’t No Nice Guy (After All)” - Lemmy, Ozzy, Slash & Friends

*No, there’s no real connection here, unless you figure that the first tune is about drinking and most of the guys playing/performing on the second either are or were at one time alcoholics of the highest order. But as I was coming in from a hot day mowing the lawn, I caught enough of “There Stands The Glass” to enjoy it with a cold, wet, cheap can of beer, and as the melancholy strains of the Lemmy/Ozzy duet cruised in, I began to appreciate what a great, roadhouse, cry-in-your-beer weeper it really is. You can keep your Kenny Chesneys and your Big And Rich—my new country heroes are Lemmy, Slashie and John “Ozzy” Osbourne, baby.

That’s all the room we have this week, gang—tune in again next time as we pick up again on our never-ending quest to clear this infernal desk of rogue CDs and DVDs. Look for a whole pile o’ local stuff as well as new DVDs from The Pretenders, Iggy Pop, William S. Burroughs and more!! Until we bump into each other again (try not to spill my drinkie next time, willya?), make yer own damn news. ||

If you have local music news/events/CDs you’d like to see listed in this column, or you’re just curious about how much album info I actually had to physically type into my PC to transfer my collection, send replies to: Tmygunn777@peoplepc.com.