Buried Treasure: Soulville

[Today: One man's trash is another's buried treasure...]

The P and I were in Newport the Christmas before last, visiting her family and enjoying our share of holiday cheer. Our routine there includes an after dinner stroll around the neighborhood, so we can enjoy the sights and sounds of that lovely town while it’s dressed up for the holidays. As we started down the sidewalk, I spied a discarded cigarette packet in the gutter, and picking it up, told P a story about how my friend Jonesy once found something magical in just such a discarded cigarette box. I popped open the packet only to find it empty, and shrugging my shoulders, headed across the street to deposit it in the neighbors’ garbage can, which was at the curb for pick-up. As I approached their garbage, I noticed that there were boxes piled up against the can, and when I got a little closer, I discovered that the boxes were full of records!

Letting out a surprised cry of joy, I grabbed a box and hightailed it back to Ed & Judy’s. P grabbed a box and followed, and I circled back for the third and final box. We pulled them into the dining room and started plowing through our find. A definite mixed bag – plenty of records of the Mitch Miller/Eddy Arnold variety, but also some Rock standards (Beatles, Stones, etc) and a small selection of Jazz. Many of them were smoke or mold damaged, and probably deserved to be trashed, but a fair handful looked okay. Among these was Ben Webster’s classic Soulville.

I was plenty familiar with this album – the P and I own it on disc – but familiarity was no match for the giddy reflex that comes with discovering a free treasure. Looking out at the world with his sad, hound dog eyes, through a deep rinse of orange, Ben pleaded with me: “I’ve had a hard life – can you give me a good home?” The cover was torn along the top seam, and the record was covered in dust and crud, but it looked salvagable. Ben and a handful of other albums (including some probably pretty valuable Jackie Wilson records – who throws this stuff away??) were selected to make the long cross-country flight home with us. The rest of the records got reloaded into the boxes and carried back across the street for their previously scheduled appointment with the trashman.

It made it onto our turntable a good number of times, but that beat up copy of Soulville now hangs in a frame in our guest bedroom. And every time I look at it I think about magic cigarette packets, and tell myself that Ben doesn’t look quite as sad as he once did.

Listen: Soulville

Tags: Ben Webster, Jazz, Soulville