Today, in honor of my sainted spouse's birthday, we will forego Finnish Fridays and instead highlight one of Lindsay's favorite estate-sale finds—a near-pristine collection of mostly Spanish pop 45s dating from the late 1960s. He was rightly pleased with himself when he scored this eye candy for cheap at a great sale in a real armpit of a neighborhood. (Yes, I still remember this sale even though it was some seven years ago... I think I still smell this sale... Maybe I'm just smelling the records.) He was convinced that all of these 45s were highly collectible; some of them might be, I dunno. They've been sitting in a closet unlistened to and unresearched till I recently decided to dust them off and give them a listen. I can't say that I've made my way through the whole collection (nor did I photograph all of them). Some are kinda catchy and completely insane, the way you would expect a Eurovision runner-up to be. There's some smooth cocktail jazz suitable for Mad Men. There's some manic marching band music and some maudlin vocals suitable for Saturday Night Live parody. And that's the good stuff. I don't think any of the records live up to their fabulous sleeve art. Feast your eyes on these covers, folks! This was some San Antonio hepcat's lovingly curated collection—I don't see how we could ever break it up.
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