Rick Nelson and Claude Peck dispense unasked-for advice about clothing, etiquette, culture, relationships, grooming and more.
RN: Thanks for that "West Side Story" recording. I think I've listened -- and danced -- to "America" about 350 times. But who knew that they were still making CDs?
CP: Just two short years ago, I built shelves at home that included eye-level space for all my compact discs. Now, thanks to Spotify and Grooveshark, I rarely touch those beautifully alphabetized CDs. And the crates of vinyl in the basement are just giant spider nests. Are we sad, or glad?
RN: Meh. CDs are really a pain, compared to clicking my I can-carry-this-anywhere iPod. What I really miss: The greatness that was the vinyl album cover. You know, Carly Simon rockin' a bra-less Bond Girl look on "No Secrets," a photo that's almost as legendary as the LP's "You're So Vain."
CP: Or that classic Stones cover for "Sticky Fingers." Try having an actual zipper on a CD cover, much less on the "cloud." Still, when you finally get clearance to download Spotify, I think those images will waft away on the breeze of 15 million songs at the touch of a search screen, all free, all legal.
RN: I wish there was a retail outlet for MP3s, just so we could browse, and then later buy everything online.
CP: I stop off at Electric Fetus these days for just one reason -- sympathy.
RN: I fear for the Fetus and our other great kill-an-hour-at-a-time record shops, which are going the way of the Rapidly Disappearing Chain Known as Blockbuster.
CP: And I wonder if the only way Cheapo can survive is if it reboots itself as Free-o.
RN: Right? One sound I associate with the 1990s is the clackety-clack of plastic CD cases banging against one another, as shoppers flipped through the bins at Cheapo, Applause and other stores. Kind of the way I think of the late 1960s and early 1970s as the era when I spent most of my free time thumbing through the 45s in the record department at J.C. Penney's Brookdale store. The tragedy is that no one under the age of 45 probably knows what a 45 is.
CP: When I saw a niece's iPod full of songs and asked where she had gotten them, it was not from a record store, or even iTunes. But there they were, all ripped and burned and stuff. For her age cohort, LimeWire is the good ol' days.
RN: And I barely know how to load a CD into my car stereo, an admission that makes me officially old.
CP: I'm surprised your Buick LeSabre even has a CD player. I thought that came with an eight-track player.
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