Singles, B-Sides and Monty Python

For awhile now, I've been pondering the fact that we are in an age where purchasing an entire album from any given artist is becoming unusual, and the norm is simply downloading the "hit" single.  First of all, how does one even know what the "hit" single is, especially with radio becoming more and more insignificant?  I assume that the Billboard rankings are determined by the number of downloads a song has (I assume they are just counting legal downloads), but when artist X releases their album, without a DJ, VJ or whoever spinning a certain track, how does the single-buying public know which is the good tune?  And, for we fans of the LP (or CD for the middle-agers out there), what becomes of all the other songs that make up the album?  Since only the single is downloaded, why even put out an album at all?

Back in the day, when one actually purchased a single--an actual 45 rpm disc, for your money you got not only the "hit" song, the A-side, but you also got a bonus song, the B-side.  Often it was another cut from the album in which the A-side came from.  If so, the B-side could give insight to what one could expected from the rest of the album, allowing one to see if the album is worth buying.  But sometimes the song on the B-side was unique to the single.  Often considered "throwaways," these one-shot B-Side tunes were what the obsessive collector lived for.  Including yours truly.

(Come On was the flip-side of Joe Jackson's It's Different For Girls.
A live track, Jackson's cover of Come On rocked and was in heavy rotation for my friends and me.)

  

In the beginning of the CD transition, many of the reissues of back catalogues consisted solely of the tracks contained on the original LP release.  It wasn't until the reissue of the CD (which, remember, was itself a reissue of the LP) where, in an effort to entice the record/CD buying public to purchase said album yet again, the "new" CD would come with "bonus tracks," which, often, were those "throwaway" B-sides we obsessive collectors salivated over.  Some artists continued to release CD singles, which included an extra song or two, the CD version of the B-side.  Pearl Jam, Oasis, U2, to name a few, kept the avid collector gene alive. 

(Dylan's Biograph was among the first Box Sets
and had a handful of unreleased tracks
making it a must have.)

But generally the reissue CD, and to an even greater extent, the advent of the Box Set [which often not only includes B-sides but also the holy grail of holy grails to fanatic music collectors…unreleased tracks(!)] turns out to be something of a double-edged sword.  Yes, it makes collecting a particular artist's entire catalog amazingly easy; but there in lies the rub.  The thrill of the chase is gone.

Used to be, when one was in a new area, vacationing or business perhaps, checking out the local record stores, (independent if possible, but if Sam Goody was the only place in town, that would do, too) was high on the list of important things to do.  Heck, the opportunity to visit a new independent record store made the trip to finally visit Aunt Millie (warm powdered lemonade, wet kisses and all) something to look forward to.  Why?  Because you never knew what you were going to find!  Who knows, maybe they have that illusive 45 of Zeppelin's Immigrant Song, the single with their only non-album track, Hey Hey, What Can I Do on the flip side.  (Which now, of course, can be downloaded from iTunes with a single click.)

Hey, hey what could I do?

Sure, true collectors still want the actual physical 45, but the reason for the  search to begin with, owning and listening to the rare Led Zeppelin song, is   now nothing special.  Back in the day, your cachet in High School would be raised exponentially, even with the girls(!), if you had the 45 of Immigrant Song, which I did not, alas.  (That cachet inflation, particularly from the girls, didn't apply to having a copy of The Beatles' Lady Madonna, which had the illusive The Inner Light as it's B-side.  That one I did have.)


But now, if one so desires, B-sides and "rarities" can be had with a click.  With the download generation, B-sides and "rarities" pretty much become things of the past.   And with the pattern being the downloading of specific songs rather than entire albums, maybe the album itself is becoming a thing of the past.

But who knows?

Growing up, my friends and I spent countless hours listening to music together, albums and singles.  When one of us scored one of those elusive B-sides, that would be a cause for celebration 'and much rejoicing' ("yea" -- A Monty Python and the Holy Grail reference we also shared).

One such flip side, which we listened to quite a bit, was from the band The Police.  Guitarist Andy Summers often had his--shall we say, unusual--songs relegated to the B-side, and that was the case with his song Friends, the flip side of Don't Stand So Close Yo Me. 

It's from Friends that today's earworm comes.  While the song has been driving me a bit batty, it also has me thinking back to the good ol' days, goofing around with my pals, talking about girls (postulating ways to raise our cache with them, even just an iota), and listening to tunes.  As Yoda might say, "Miss that, I do."

What can I say, "I love to eat my friends and make no bones about it…"