Confessions of a Music Nerd

By Amanda Hallay

As I no longer care what people think of me, I have decided to come out of the closet and bare my inner-most secret to you. I am a music nerd. Wait! Before I go on, I must first alert you to the very great difference between music 'fans' and music 'nerds.' Fans enjoy music. They buy what they want to and listen to it - and they're happy to leave it at that. Nerds are not happy to leave it at that. Example; a music fan will say Paint it Black by The Rolling Stones." A nerd will say; Paint it Black by the Rolling Stones, on the London Label, released in April, '66 in the States and a month later in the U.K. Recorded at R.C.A Studios in Hollywood. Bill Wyman's playing the organ - the Stones' agent, Eric Easton, taught him how. Oh! Brian Jones learnt the sitar just for this song! And what about the backup vocals in the last phrase of the bridge? Wow!"

See what I mean?

To a music nerd (or 'muso,' as we're called in Liverpool), discovering a piece of music and enjoying it is never enough. We need precise release dates. We need song writing and production credits. We need chart listings. We need to know its sales and distribution. We don't just listen to a song - we dissect it.

We are disturbed people.

It must be stated that the muso loves music. It's not about collecting a zillion singles and memorising pointless information for the sake of it. Oh no. It's all part of our love of music. If we like a song, we want to know its chart entry. We want to know who arranged the strings. We want to know that the artist was originally on Pye but then switched to Decca in '67. Without these facts, we are utterly incapable of enjoying the music. Far from it! Without these facts, it's all just a horrible, frustrating nightmare resulting in midnight calls to other nerds to ask them; "What label were The Mindbenders on again?" (Actually, they were on Fontana. Everyone knows that.)

Although there are 'contemporary' musos who will happily spend vast sums of money on some rare, imported techno remix, the 'classic' nerd tends to be (by definition) a 'retro' nerd. Collecting a working artists music as its released is 'normal.' Tracking down the original vinyl version of an unknown psychedelic band's 1968 cover of another unknown psychedelic band's only single is not.

No one knows the catalyst that turns the music 'fan' into a music 'nerd'. The 'change' generally seems to occur in the teenage years. It did for me. I was eighteen, and suddenly realised that I was spending all my money - not on clothes or clubs - but on records, my Saturdays spent scouring record stores and jumble sales in the hopes of finding something on the Parlaphone label. Happily, I was not alone - one of the comforts to the burgeoning nerd is the realisation that there are plenty more out there. Plenty.

Music nerds like to think of themselves as aficionados, the competitive element of nerd-dom one of its driving forces. Obviously, it would be impossible to be an authority on every genre from every period, so the muso tends to settle on but one area of expertise. Mine is British Pop, 1963 - 1973. It's a large and rich period, and whilst I admit I'm a bit shaky on the later stuff (and who wouldn't be; I'm dealing with Slade) the four years between '64 and '68 are 'all mine'. And in true nerd form, I will confess that I am… 'quite an expert.' But not expert enough. Oh no. The nerd is never happy with their knowledge - nor with their collection. This explains why I own an album called The Northern Soul Scene (on Decca, via Polygram). Northern Soul was a type of high-energy soul that developed in the North of England in the Late Sixties, its 'epicentre' being The Mecca Ballroom. In Blackpool. This alone speaks volumes. I hate Northern Soul. I despise it. Yet I had to acquire The Northern Soul Scene should somebody suddenly say; "Micky Moonshine." "Oh yes," I can retort, "Name it You Got It. 1974. On Decca. 'First heard at The Wigan Casino. It was the B-side, but it charted 'cause it was better than the A-side (Baby Blue)."

Don't get me wrong; I like a lot of other music - but 'like' is the operative word. I really, really like medieval music - but I'm 'normal' about it. I like a lot of contemporary Brit-pop bands and duly buy their CDs upon released. No big deal. I'm 'normal' about it. However, when it comes to British Pop ('63 -'73) I am not 'normal' about it; I am deranged. Nerdish zeal notwithstanding, I truly love this music - I get involved with it. I could talk for hours about the virtues of the bass line in the bridge of I Stand Accused by The Merseybeats. And what about how the last word of the verse in Concrete and the Clay by Unit 4 + 2 is also the first word of the chorus?! Need I say more? A true muso can 'Name That Tune' in…no notes! We can identify a song by the first nano-second of sound, thrilling our increasingly bored friends with this amazingly pointless talent, our incessant pleas to be quizzed ('Test me! Go on, test me!') emptying a room at record speed (45 rpm, to be precise.)

There are, however, some music nerds who don't particularly love the music they're collecting; they just love collecting. This sort of nerd is usually into vinyl, their obsession born of a desire to possess the original record. It is 'object value' they are after, with many of their acquisitions never even listened to for fear of damage. I have a friend who falls into this category. He recently managed to get hold of Crystal Ball by Twice as Much and called me (long distance) to ask me to play my copy of it to him down the phone to him so he could hear 'how it went' - he didn't want to get finger prints on his own vinyl copy!

I fall into the other category of music nerd - those who are into 'the song.' Broader in our vision, we care not what form the song takes (vinyl, CD, cassette, reissue) just so long as we hear it. Just so long as we have it.

It goes without saying that music nerds are always hanging around record shops and will buy anything remotely to do with their 'area of expertise.' I cannot tell you the junk I've acquired over the years. Often un-listenable, I am nevertheless thrilled to have a copy of She's Alright by The Quakers (1965) and released on Studio 36 ('Northampton's One and Only Record Label'). It's not surprising that Studio 36 did not reach the giddying heights of E.M.I - not if The Quakers are anything to go by. Still, I'm happy to have heard it - and even happier to have it, which brings me to the next characteristic of Nerdus Musicus; The Hunt.

We hear a record - or worse still, we hear about a record - and we have to have it. We have to have it. We don't care how it comes; vinyl, C.D, cassette-someone-taped-off-the-John Peel Show - we're not fussed. We just want to get our hands on that song, and something of a 'quest' begins. These 'quests' can last as long as the one for the Holy Grail. I had a 'quest' once. It took four years for me to finally get my hands on It's Nice To Be Out In The Morning by Herman's Hermits, and I actually cried (truly!) when I eventually found it on a Japanese import.

The most exciting (and frustrating) element of nerd-dom is when the muso discovers a band or singer whom he/she falls in love with, determined to track down every record the newly adored artist ever made. If it's someone who still has a relatively strong following (ie; The Kinks), no effort is required in finding his or her back catalogue. Constantly reissued, one can pick up the entire career of The Kinks in an afternoon of hard-core shopping. However, if the artist is less known (or - often - unknown) then it becomes a true game of 'cat-and-mouse.' This happened to me when I discovered Gates of Eden (mid-Sixties beat band from Rotherham.) Chancing upon a Gates of Eden single, I decided they were masters of no little genius, resolving to acquire everything they'd ever committed to vinyl (six songs - and that includes B-sides.) Needless to say, nobody has ever heard of Gates of Eden. I don't think even Gates of Eden remember they were Gates of Eden! Unbelievably, I eventually discovered that a tiny French label had reissued the entire Gates 'œuvre.' Phew. I could sleep at night again.

Happily, the Internet has made The Hunt a lot easier; clearly, there are other people out there who are as sick as myself. How else could I have downloaded Vacuum Cleaner by Tintern Abbey (1967. Decca. 'Didn't chart.) And of course, Internet shopping has opened up the galaxy to 'musos'; no matter where in the world Love Her Still by The Poets might be hiding, I'm going to find it - and I'm going to have it. Happily, the past ten years have seen the founding of specialist labels such as RPM ('By Collectors - For Collectors), which compile and reissue those long lost, long forgotten records the true nerd craves. Makes life a lot easier, I can tell you.

Once the acquisition is in the muso's greedy hands, he/she/I can begin…'The Ritual.' Before listening to what we've bought, we must first read every one of the liner notes - and then cross reference them with other liner notes. Books have to be consulted. Hot drinks must be made. Cigarettes lighted. Only when all relevant details have been fully understood can the music be listened to. Pressing 'play' or dropping that needle is a heart-stopping moment. At last - the music. When it's 'good' - it's the best feeling in world. When it's not - it's still rather pleasing. At least you've heard it. (At least you have it.)

Once the music nerd has had his fill of his new acquisition, he can 'put it away.' But us nerds don't just 'put it away.' (Pffffft! As if!) We've got a whole system, involving categories and sub-categories, and categories within sub-categories. Each muso has their own storage and cataloguing system. My CDs are stored in leatherette cases. The liner notes are placed into the compartment with the CD. Each case holds 70 discs. The categories are as follows; Pre-Beatles, Beat and Merseybeat, High Sixties Pop, Girl Singers, Psychedelia (which incorporates the sub-category, Psychedelic Pop) and so on and so forth until my last category (Very Poor Early-'70s Non-Charting). Most telling of all is the fact that my collection is neat. I am the untidiest person in the solar system - but my music collection is immaculate.

The mating habits of Nerdus Musicus are interesting; the female of the species exists in far lesser number than the male, and whilst most male musos can have a meaningful long-term relationship with women who 'aren't really into music,' the same cannot be said of the female. I have dumped guys because they didn't like The Hollies. Fortunately, my own mate - whilst not a 'nerd' - is definitely 'into' music, and often indulges my passion by asking me what label something's on. ('Pye. Durrr'.)

One of the less prepossessing characteristics of the music nerd is our obnoxious reaction to other people's musical tastes. ('Get that off. It's rubbish'.) People who like jazz are the pop nerd's fiercest foe. We hate them - and they hate us. It is the nature of things. Jazz nerds believe they are 'superior' to us pop nerds (we know better) and actually snigger when they hear Have I The Right by The Honeycombs! They tell us our music is 'facile,' 'disposable,' 'manufactured,' and 'formulated.' We tell them that that's why we like it ('Hello?!') In fairness, the pop nerd is equally uncompromising vis-à-vis the jazzo's tastes ('This is shit! Get it off! It's doing my head in!) This upsets the jazz nerd, who then tries to 'explain' jazz to the ignorant pop fan. 'Any music that needs explanation isn't worth listening to!' Ugly scenes usually erupt, climaxing with the jazz nerd calling the muso a 'teenager' (but only if he/she isn't one), and the pop nerd calling the enemy a 'pretentious tosser' who can 'shove Miles Davies up his ass and fuck off while he's doing it!'

Music is not always the 'food of love.'

Of course, the music nerd can always take a few months 'off;' I once went six weeks without buying a record! Yet sooner or later, the old 'glamour' comes over us again, and before we know it, we're scanning the Net for some awful, non-charting single or hanging 'round Fnac to see if something's been 're-mastered.' Pathetic? Well, we all have our quirks. Which reminds me; do any of you happen to have a copy of the B-side to Grounded by The Syn (Decca. 1967. Never charted)?