Showing posts with label east nashville. Show all posts
Showing posts with label east nashville. Show all posts

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, July 17, 2014

"If you've got a spare half a million..."



A little over a year of satellite radio service and it's proven to have introduced me to quite a few records that I otherwise would have probably paid no mind to. The Cayucas album is in heavy rotation at the Blackwell house (being a particular favorite of Violet's) and I don't absolutely hate Foxygen either.

One of the most pleasant surprises has been Courtney Barnett. I feel like I first heard "Avant Gardener" about six months ago on Sirius and my immediate reaction was that I was surprised to hear something that belied a sort of substance on the XMU channel. I heard it a couple more times and painted a picture in my mind...Courtney was some sort of exhibitionist tart, "fake", too good to be true... just all kinds of things that would make me not like her. Almost as if I didn't want to even give her a chance.

I bought the vinyl of The Double EP: A Sea of Split Peas, listened once, didn't hate it, and filed away. A last-minute in-store in Nashville was enough to bring me out to investigate further. I found the simplicity and bare-bones feeling of her songs performed without additional accompaniment was far more intriguing than the full-band backing on the recordings.

It all came to a head with the last song she played, a yet-to-be-released song called "Depreston." Courtney explained that Preston is a neighborhood in Melbourne and the song is about the task of trying to find a place to live. The structure of the song almost feels a bit off, like each verse is missing a line, that's it's still in progress. That lends a certain beauty to it, in addition to the poignant observational lyrics, with just enough winking wit to keep you paying attention.

The final lines, sung about a house, repeated, repeated, repeated, burrowed into my head.

If you've got a
spare half a million
you could knock it down
and start rebuilding

Maybe it's because that's exactly what seems to be happening in my neighborhood in East Nashville. Maybe it's the ever-so-percpible lilt of an Australian accent that renders "half" as "hoff." Maybe it's through some sort of quirk in the cosmos that Barnett seems to inhabit and mean every single word she sings. I don't know. I just know that over a month later and this song has not left my head for more than a day. I can't remember a new song that I so quickly learned all the words to. 

Funny thing is for an unreleased song Courtney seems to be playing this thing every damn opportunity she gets. Having delved through at least half-a-dozen different performances, I feel like the one embedded above, has a little magic that seems missing from the others. Here's hoping you enjoy it half as much as I have.