“Collector grooves with Rock
memorabilia”
Collector’s
Spotlight
Record collector’s roots
are in psychedelic ‘60s
By
LinDee Rochelle ● For ANTIQUE & Collectables*
Volume 23
Number 8, August 2001
*After more than 25 years, this venerable
newsmagazine is no longer in circulation
Admit it, boomers. When we were in the middle of a
flower-child happening, few of us recognized the impact our generation would
have on American culture more than 30 years later. Sure, there were moments you
wanted to suspend in time (and some of us tried), but considering our numbers,
the number who actually saved all their memorabilia, or even began one
collection, is low.
Meet Marilyn Eisenberg of Phoenix. Beginning with her
musical and artistic roots planted in the fertile phantasm of the psychedelic
‘60s and early ‘70s, Eisenberg has amassed more than 3,500 vinyl records.
“I knew it was a special time,” said Eisenberg. “Most of my
friends were 10 or 12 years older, already immersed actively in the culture,
doing whatever their profession was, trying to make a difference and trying to
make a contribution. I was really raised on that, being very in tune with
nature, growing up in Southern Cal.”
Flower power was more associated with the Haight-Ashbury phenomena of San Francisco
and the raw concerts at the Filmore, Avalon and Matrix. But Southern California
made its own contribution to rock ‘n’ roll history. “I saw both Beatles’ tours
at the Hollywood Bowl,” recalls Eisenberg, “and the opening act was the Beach
Boys (first tour). I was only 12. That was a radical experience, being in the
audience of what you’d already seen on Ed Sullivan and elsewhere. You couldn’t
really hear them, but it didn’t matter, you were part of the experience.”
Eisenberg’s Hollywood Bowl experiences started when she was
9, with her musician mother, who was also an usher. She grew up on live
performances, from classical to rockabilly. “My parents raised us on Broadway
shows, so that’s what we played in the house.” But it was rock and roll that
seized her spending capital. “I think the first vinyl I remember buying was
probably ‘Meet the Beatles.’”
With incredible insight, Eisenberg recognized the musical
revolution. “It was all about the times we lived in, which was our cultural
renaissance of the last hundred years. The focus of my collection is really
British Invasion and San Francisco Psychedelia. Everything I could get my hands
on and stuff you would never find today—compilations and recordings of
concerts. Sweetwater comes to mind, because everyone wondered what happened to
that band. It was extremely experimental music.”
Many musicians created and experienced the power of these
times, even if only for a fleeting moment. Test your ‘60s boomer memory on
these vinyl gems from Eisenberg’s collection: Blue Cheer’s live album “Vincebus
Eruptum” from the late ‘60s, complete with a nubile nude maiden on a cover that
bore absolutely no writing; Fairport Convention’s “Fairport Chronicles” with
Sandy Denny’s haunting voice silenced so early by a brain tumor; and edging
into the ‘70s is The Flying Burrito Brothers’ acoustic-inspired album with Chris
Hillman.
Eisenberg’s more celebrated vinyls include Bob Welsh’s last
recording with Fleetwood Mac, “Future Games.”
Other favorites are Grace Slick’s last album with Great
Society, recorded live at the Matrix in San Francisco, and a Jimi Hendrix live
album from Germany, “Welcome Home,” still affixed with the original price
sticker of $3.99. Another of Eisenberg’s tuneful treasures is the pristine copy
of John Lennon and Yoko Ono’s nude cover album, which was quickly whisked off
the shelves in May 1968. She still keeps it in the original brown-paper
wrapper—mostly because they had “pretty ugly bodies.”
From a picture disk of Heart’s “Dreamboat Annie” to rare
bootlegs of Rolling Stones’ live performances, Eisenberg still feels the
excitement of the era every time she listens to the incredible creativity
captured in each black groove.
However, not all vinyl albums are black. While still in high
school, a friend traveling overseas called Eisenberg and asked her which
souvenir she’d like. “Bring me back an album,” Eisenberg told her. “She brought
me back a Rolling Stones album on orange vinyl … and all the written stuff on
the album is in Chinese, but it’s an English-speaking album.”
During the eclectic ‘80s, Eisenberg’s collection grew by
leaps and bounds as she reveled in the bounty brought home by her musician
boyfriend, who worked at a local music store. “He would bring home these
promotional albums; many of them became big-name acts. I remember one, showing
people no one had heard of, was the Split Ends.” They were joined by the
cutting-edge sounds of Talking Heads, Cars, Devo and Culture Club.
Eisenberg
has not only collected her life in vinyl, but lived her life in music and art
as she taught the correlation between art design and music by day, and attended
backstage soirees by night. Remember when the Stones claimed to have cleaned up
their act, deep-sixing drugs, in the early ‘80s? The post-concert party in the
Hollywood Hills says Eisenberg, “… was like a scene out of ‘Scarface’. They
were rude to the hilt. They were definitely alive and well, and living the
lifestyle they said they weren’t.”
Not willing to jeopardize her UCLA teaching position,
Eisenberg kept her distance, but also kept her memories alive with every
Rolling Stones album she could find. While she enjoys the Stones, Eisenberg’s
musical tastes are discriminating. “To me, The Beatles always represented art.
The Stones were just entertainment.”
Logistically speaking, owning 3,500 fragile vinyl records
creates more than a few problems. Moving from one home to another is always a
daunting experience—especially when you’ve done it 26 times since leaving the
proverbial nest. However, she does have original commercial record-shipping
boxes from before technology made our world smaller. Storing them is no simple
task, either. And how do you choose only one memory to play back, when there
are so many flooding your mind?
Eisenberg isn’t interested in selling or trading. “I want to
enjoy what I collect,” she says, refusing to keep her collection “… pristinely
hidden, tucked away in a vault, so I can’t worry about it falling apart.”
She believes we created our own society with music, which
begat a whole new culture in fashion, politics, and architectural design.
“To me, it was a very positive message. It wasn’t this ‘sex,
drugs and rock ‘n’ roll’ thing. It was about, you can make a difference in your
environment, you can make a difference as a woman, you can make a difference
contributing as an artist. You have something to say that’s important, get out
there and say it!”
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