A Poetic Flashback: Vinyl on Sunset

Updated on July 1, 2018
Source

Flashback at the Retro Store

On a recent visit to Los Angeles, I walked into Amoeba Records on Sunset Boulevard and had a flashback of my youth.

I was immediately drawn to the classic rock albums of the sixties and seventies. My veiny old hands flipped through the record jackets like I was leafing through sacred scriptures and, for a brief moment, I became that long-haired teenager browsing through the albums at Franny’s Records on Bustleton Avenue in Northeast Philly. The memories all came back to me as I looked at the Day-Glo posters of Jimi Hendrix, Jim Morrison and the Grateful Dead hanging on the wall. I hadn’t felt this connected to music in years. I went down each row of records muttering the names of the groups that I loved, bumping into strangers who were equally as zoned out as I was.

The energy of that retro record store and the memories that came up for me are in the following poem, Vinyl on Sunset.

Poem: Vinyl on Sunset

It almost felt like 1973,

a psychedelic flashback,

when I walked into Amoeba

on Sunset Boulevard.


Except my hair was gray,

my eyes were baggy

and my pants not flared.

No Tibetan medallion

dangled from this middle-aged

neck anymore.


Like my glory days,

I got lost in vinyl with ridges,

looking for the Holy Grail

among the classic rock section

of this retro record store.


Lava lamps, bean bags,

hippie girls with strawberry

blond hair,

Zigzag papers,

the smell of patchouli incense

everywhere.


Rows upon rows,

stacks upon stacks

of fond memories of the 60s and 70s,

the LPs I used to play

like every moment of every day.


There were Jimi and Jim,

King Crimson and Queen,

The Rolling Stones, Quicksilver Messenger Service.

A museum of art on the wall—

Love and peace in Day-Glo.


I Get Around,

Turn, Turn, Turn and Box of Rain

still play on the turntable

of my mind.


Neil Young’s guitar

quivered to Cinnamon Girl.

Lucy’s diamonds still glistened

in the sky.

The Moody Blues’ Nights in White Satin--

Well, I still don’t understand.


Strobe lights, groovy and far outs.

The zoned out, burnt out teenagers

bumping into each other

passing around imaginary highs—

Raspberry wine, tightly-rolled joints,

over-sized bongs and roach clips,

blood-shot eyes of no return

in the musical sea of deja vu.

Questions & Answers

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      • Mark Tulin profile imageAUTHOR

        Mark Tulin 

        7 weeks ago from Santa Barbara, California

        Thanks, David

      • Dave Irvine profile image

        David Irvine 

        8 weeks ago from Norwich UK

        'Psychedelic flashback' love it.

      • Mark Tulin profile imageAUTHOR

        Mark Tulin 

        8 weeks ago from Santa Barbara, California

        Thank you, Genna

      • Genna East profile image

        Genna East 

        8 weeks ago from Massachusetts, USA

        Hi Mark...

        I liked this poem...

        Especially...

        "Like my glory days,

        I got lost in vinyl with ridges,

        looking for the Holy Grail

        among the classic rock section

        of this retro record store."

        "...in the musical sea of deja vu."

        Well done. :-)

      • Mark Tulin profile imageAUTHOR

        Mark Tulin 

        2 months ago from Santa Barbara, California

        Thanks,manatita, keep rockin’. Sorry about your not so good Deja Vu.

      • manatita44 profile image

        manatita44 

        2 months ago from london

        I like the 'Neil Young's guitar stanza most. Gave me memories too. Not so long ago, bro, not so long ago.

        I had a Deja Vu experience in Kenya recently. Not so nice, Bro. Not so nice … much peace.

      • Mark Tulin profile imageAUTHOR

        Mark Tulin 

        2 months ago from Santa Barbara, California

        Thank you Rinita. Little record players and Vinyl are trendy right now. Tell me what you think, when you give it a try.

      • Senoritaa profile image

        Rinita Sen 

        2 months ago

        I have never owned a vinyl record, being born past that age, but I always had a fascination for them. Your stories (I know it is a poem but the vivid descriptions of the mind racing through nostalgia bring about a thousand stories here) inspire me to get one now, just for the keeps. Loved this!

      • Mark Tulin profile imageAUTHOR

        Mark Tulin 

        2 months ago from Santa Barbara, California

        Its funny, John, I feel like I live near a time machine. There's an outdoor concert hall right around the corner. And many of the older performers come and play like Dylan, Neil Young, Jackson Browne, etc. I can hear them playing in my backyard. What a treat! Thanks for reading.

      • Jodah profile image

        John Hansen 

        2 months ago from Queensland Australia

        Mark, thanks for the flashback to the 70s with this great poem. Stores like that act like time machines to transport us back to our youth for just a small moment in time. I have kept my record collection, even my parents and grandparents old 78s and have a record player so I can still enjoy them. Most of the music of the day was so uplifting and inspirational.

      • Mark Tulin profile imageAUTHOR

        Mark Tulin 

        2 months ago from Santa Barbara, California

        Thanks Verlie and Tim. That music seemed to seep into our pores and subconscious. Back then, I didn’t realize how strongly that music affected me and that the days of amazing song writing was so temporary. I’m just so glad that I experienced it and all the other changes and developments, socially and politically, that was connected to the music and to that era. Have a great Sunday.

      • Tim Truzy info4u profile image

        Tim Truzy 

        2 months ago from U.S.A.

        Hi, Mark,

        My wife and I love the oldies stations we listen to as we cruise around our state. This poem made me smile. every morning, we tune into that old 1970's show, "Good Times," and try to remember if we got the jokes while we talk about Zeplin,Parliament Funk, and all of the great tunes from that era. Who can forget Shaft and those afros?

        Like vinyl, spinning on a turntable, those things of the '70's come around again. The production quality of the music has achieved incredible gains technologically, but the quality of songs have changed. Maybe people will start writing songs that way again.

        Thanks for a wonderful poem and a reminder of how important those dwindling record stores are. I read your poem and listened to it as well. Fabulous poetry as always.

        sincerely,

        Tim

      • snakeslane profile image

        Verlie Burroughs 

        2 months ago from Canada

        Wow Mark! Great poem, great sound clip of you reading. It's all so familiar. Music can bring us right back in time.

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