Tom Lynch
12 Years Employment
Buyer Extraordinaire

Miss Ess: How did you end up at Amoeba?

Tom Lynch: I was working at Car City Records in Detroit, my co-worker, Geoff Walker, had just come back from his vacation to the Bay Area and told me about Amoeba opening in SF and looking for used LP buyers. Geoff had applied on a whim, got interviewed, and offered the job. Geoff came back , decided to go to grad school, declined the offer, and told me that I should give it a go. I was up for a change, not to mention I had just been in a  wreck and had no more van and had no money to buy another one. So fate really forced my hand. I've always felt that they never really got over Geoff turning them down.  

ME: What is the best live show you have ever seen?

TL: Being one of three people in the audience as The Replacements ripped through their set at St. Andrews Hall in Detroit, July 1983. Everyone else was in the bar below the club watching Siouxsie & the Banshees videos. My pal John Maxwell & I and this weird short guy were the only people watching them -- they were opening for R.E.M. -- and this short guy was wearing a cowboy hat and cowboy boots, doing these sliding dance moves and was yelling at the 'Mat's to get off the stage. They were blazing hot; when nobody was looking they would crush you with their ferocity. They just laughed at him, threw lit cigarettes at him.

Tarin
1.5 yrs employment
Promotions Gal

MIss Ess: What was the moment you really got into music? What were you listening to? Where were you?

Tarin: The first music memory I have was when I was in a car set in the back of my parents baby blue late 80s Mazda. I remember trying to slap my hands on my knees to the beat of the music, and most likely we were listening to Bonnie Raitt, Elton John, or The Beatles… possibly even The Judds. Those were the tapes that always seemed to be in the car when I was little. Once I figured out how to be on rhythm to a beat there was no stopping me, no one could get me to stop singing or dancing. My toes have been tapping pretty much my entire life.

Miss Ess: Whose posters did you have on your walls when you were growing up?

Tarin: I had so many posters on my walls growing up I don’t even know if I could name them all. But from what I remember; Beatles, Dave Matthews Band, Black Sabbath, Bob Marley, Michael Jackson, Hanson (I thought Zak was such a hunk!... I was also 11), typical teen dream pics, and various years of Monterey Jazz Festival posters.  

Miss Ess: What brought you to Amoeba?

Tarin: I was living in LA, going to Musicians Institute and I kept hearing about this magical place where you could find anything you wanted. And even though it was only about 6 blocks from where I was living, it took me a year and a half to finally make it in. When I walked in the first time I felt so overwhelmed and so excited I thought I was at an amusement park… but for music. I ended up spending 4 hours and way too much money but I was instantly in love.

I hate to admit a commercial's had an affect on me, but "suddenly" I find myself in the mood to listen to some Cat Stevens. The fact that something that's blatantly created merely to sell something to me is backed by a song by one of the more anti-capitalism, anti-authority, anti-everything artists ever to play music is quite twisted. The irony is not lost on me, nor any of Cat's fans I am sure.

Nonetheless, so many of my earliest memories are of listening to his music on the record player at my childhood home or on long car trips with my family. It provides a feeling of comfort to me. He's one of the artists whose impact is indelibly carved into my psyche; my connection to his music was formed practically in the womb. Maybe it sounds weird to say, but his songs effected me deeply and taught me some important things about how to both contemplate and live life even in a time before I'd either lived much or had much to contemplate. They also taught me about what great music can have at its best: integrity, melody, message, rhythm, compassion.

Later in life I reached for Cat right after September 11, I remember. It's funny, the universality of the lyrics is as interesting to me as it ever was, even when I was a small child considering, "If I ever lose my mouth, all my teeth, north and south..." Quite a shocking thought to a kid! He's very much the talented, if a bit overly serious, song writer. Not that we've all forgotten this, it's just sometimes maybe a "reminder" in the form of a horrid bit of merchandising is at least good for something anyway...Even though it feels sorta shameful all around, the music still stands.

Drummer Neal Morgan's bold, multi-layered record, To the Breathing World, with songs created from vocals and drums only, comes out today, October 20! An entire album consisting of drums and vocals may sound simple, but Neal has created something that's complex, layered and not short on melody to boot!

You may know Neal from his status as a member of the Ys Street Band -- he was on the road with Joanna Newsom for Ys playing drums and singing backing vocals. His first solo release is something new and creative to behold -- the tracks are kind of like tiny symphonies of vocal layering, and the lyrics often reference the natural surroundings Neal grew up around in his hometown of Nevada City/Grass Valley.

Read on for our chat, and check out Neal's other chat with our own, ever-so-witty Job O Brother; the two are long time friends.


Miss Ess: How did you pick up playing the drums? What is it that drew you to them so strongly?

Neal Morgan: I began playing when I was 9; my dad had a cover band called Sons of Boogie that would practice in the garage. I think I must have sat down at the drumkit and something clicked. I can't say why I was drawn strongly -- I was a cautious kind of kid, so maybe banging on drums was a good contrast. I don't know.

ME: Who are your favorite drummers?

Lou Barlow's songs were the background music to my college experience. Actually, they were more than the background music...they were more like little saviors, tiny gems that made life a bit more bearable when things got complicated and rough. Barlow's music both described and assuaged situations I found myself surrounded with and confronting back then.

These were also my days of extreme lo-fi appreciation, and Lou was one of the musicians at the apex of my admiration. His songs were so naked. They felt real. His openness was so plain, both in music and words. Those songs were soft and hard at the same time, gentle yet defiant, the perfect combination of sweet melody and roughness -- the way so much of the best music is. I spent a lot of time with my Sebadoh records on repeat in those days, and Lou's contributions were the ones that resounded the most.

A few years ago, I met him here at Amoeba, back when Dinosaur Jr had an (awesome) instore. It was a memorable day, but my sudden nerves around him are something I kinda want to forget! Despite the fact that it'd been years since I'd even listened to those Sebadoh records, it all was still right there and fresh in my mind. Though I was directly involved with getting the band set up and onstage, I barely spoke to or even looked at Lou (which I actually think he appreciated), and in no way even attempted to even engage him in regular conversation, let alone pass on how much his music had meant to me at an important time in my life. Instead, I gabbed away with J Mascis about cereal. Yup.

Sometimes I think things are better left unsaid, and when it comes to these things, that is truly always the case. Better to talk to someone else about breakfast food and enjoy the music.