Tuesday, June 30, 2026

The Ballad of O.J. Simpson And The Unshakeable Desire To Throw Away Tons of Unsold Vinyl



Scotty Owens


The Ballad of OJ Simpson


A few years back I popped into an estate sale in my East Nashville neighborhood. Looked like whomever had lived in the house had also died in it. Upstairs I was primed to find the sad remnants of an unsuccessful attempt at releasing records.

Hundreds (thousands?) of 45s, some CDs too...this was a footprint that hit close to home.

I sifted through it all and found three different vinyl titles. Unsure of what they sounded like, I bought one 25-count box of each. Probably ran me $10 total. I'm damn-near certain everything I left behind got chucked into a dumpster. The house was torn down not long afterwards.

Upon closer inspection, the address on the label was that of a house where my dear friend Ben Swank lived, momentarily, also in that neighborhood (a different house than where the sale was). I was even more intrigued that one of the singles was titled "The Ballad of O.J. Simpson" and appeared to be done as a "ripped from the headlines" cash-in kinda thing.

Cut at Nashville Record Productions, pressed at United Record Pressing, both of those actions happening a mere 1.3 miles from where I sit right now on the 32nd anniversary of the murder of Nicole Brown Simpson and Ron Goldman seems like as good a time as ever to let the modern world know...that this exists. And it's likely that the 25 count box on my desk is the only real world tangible evidence of such at this point. I can't imagine there were too many other (any?) OJ-related 45's getting waxed back in '94...so this feels like a weird artifact caught between two eras. 

Used to be a common occurrence with a big news event...sinking of the Titanic, Kennedy assassination, the death of Elvis...that a flood of songs wouldn't be written and released in an effort to capitalize on the attention and fascination with the matter.

Even more so intriguing is that despite my decent attempts to divine otherwise, someone will need to be throwing out stacks of thousands of pieces of unsold vinyl that still sit in my basement, twenty some years on at this point, mere shouting distance from where I purchased these three boxes for a total of 75 records.

Yes, I am aware that these behaviors are completely at odds with each other, that someone else's unsold records feel far more mysterious and ripe for re-discovery than my unsold records. That the unknown is more primed for mythologizing than the one that I personally felt coulda been a contender. 



For the love of a woman
Many a man stumbled and fell
In a moment of passion
A lover's heaven can turn into a hell
Life is reality
Not like a football game
It's an American tragedy
When OJ Simpson is your name

He was known as Mr. Football
To every football fan
And his fame was spread
Throughout all this great land
But wealth and fame cannot provide
What people want the most
Peace of mind and a love that's right
As they journey down life's road

the paper's told the story
Of how his ex-wife died
Alongside a friend of hers
Who fought hard for his life
As we watched him drive
Down a California freeway
Everybody held their breath
For OJ and we prayed

For the love of a woman
Many a man stumbled and fell
In a moment of passion
A lover's heaven can turn into a hell
Life is reality
Not like a football game
It's an american tragedy
When OJ Simpson is your name

The DA is helping to convict OJ
Although in the courtroom he must have his day
let the jury decide the case not some guy on TV
guilty or innocent, present the evidence, let us see

For the love of a woman
Many a man stumbled and fell
In a moment of passion
A lover's heaven can turn into a hell
Life is reality
Not like a football game
It's an American tragedy
when OJ Simpson is your name

Thursday, April 30, 2026

The 5.6.7.8's "Beat Girls" Featuring Miss Ludella Black


scum stats: limited to 1000 copies, which feels like some coded throwback respect to the olden days of how it "used to be" and I respect it

I talk a lot about dying. Folks here at Third Man are damn near sick of hearing me say the phrase "If I get hit by a bus tomorrow..." before rattling off what I think the next four Vault packages should be.

Quarterly subscription planning aside, were I to die tomorrow, one of bigger frustrations would be knowing that the 5.6.7.8's will probably have a new single out soon that I'll never get to hear. As reliable as the sunrise (and also coming from the East) the 5.6.7.8's are comfortingly consistent and enjoyable. This most recent single, with Ludella Black from the Headcoatees on vocals, is such a no-brainer I'm damn near shocked it hadn't already happened in the previous three decades. Covers of songs by the Pretty Things, Ray Charles, John Barry and Chrissie Hynde are quite a disparate a coupling...until you hear them tackled by this group...where it instantly makes complete sense. Such is the magic of these ladies...while I can't fully explain it, I will always revel in its magic. 

Any 5.6.7.8's record is an instant buy for me, it's been that way for as long as I can remember and will continue to remain that way until I get hit by that proverbial bus. But if there's a record shop in heaven...I know what section I'm checking out first.



Tuesday, March 31, 2026

I Am Getting

 to be the age

where unexpected

pain

is not met with

frustration

But a resigned

"of course"

and that's

why my arm

tingles

Saturday, February 28, 2026

while discussing plants with a nine-year-old

Me : do you know what perennial means?

9-year-old : no, but I know what piranha means

Saturday, January 31, 2026

I hate that you were ever born

But I’ll love you ‘til the day you die