it's never changing

Last October, I attended a Temple sale with my wife, who lives for such events and the opportunities they provide to fill our little house with even more bizarre knickknacks. The only reason I attend these sales with her (apart from that "loving and supporting husband" jazz) is in the vain hope that one of the vendors has a set of SSP Smash Up Derby cars to sell at a reasonable price.

While I didn't find that particular personal Holy Grail, there was something that caught my interest -- a small crate of 7" singles being sold by a middle-aged woman whose other offered wares consisted of the finest non-essential kitchen furnishings 1975 had to offer. (Think avocado and earth tones.)

I always make a point of checking out the used vinyl I run across in these places, even though usually consists of Top 40 pap from the late 70's or the usual Ray Conniff/Herb Alpert/Al Hirt easy listening material. On this occasion, I was glad I made the effort as a quick flip through the singles turned up some surprises -- Depeche Mode's "Dreaming of Me," Devo's "Be Stiff," the UK release of the Clash's "Complete Control," and many other punk/postpunk/wave gems.

"They belonged to my son," said the woman behind the table. "He went to Emerson. He was going to be a dee-jay, but he ended up marrying some holy roller chippie. I was cleaning out his room the other day and found those. I asked him if he wanted them, but he said he didn't listen to the 'devil's music' anymore."

I gave the standard non-committal nod I usually use when small talk takes an uncomfortable direction and asked "how much?"

"I dunno. I don't know much about records. How about fifteen for the lot?"

I didn't even bother haggling. I forked over the dough and carted the box away.

It wasn't until after Maura gave me a turntable for Christmas that I sat down and did a proper assessment of the crate's contents. Most of the singles were easily placed, but there was one that defied identification -- while sleeve, blank label, with some curious etching, "JD-42680," on the edge of the vinyl. After a long bout of Googling and consultation with Kevin Church, whose knowledge of such matters rivals my own, I finally managed to determine exactly what it was I had lucked onto.

My jaw fairly well dropped at the revelation. I had come into possession of a bootleg release of a rumored, but unconfirmed Joy Division track recorded shortly before Ian Curtis's suicide. The unofficial title of the song is "Eternity" and it hints at the new direction the band was heading towards even as Curtis's personal demons bore down upon him with irresistible force.

A remarkable track and an incredible find, though I'd still have preferred finding a complete set of Smash Up Derby cars. Providence works in mysterious ways.

Joy Division - Eternity (?)