One of the great tragedies of the current vinyl production conundrum is that it’s flooded the market with a ton albums that, more often than not, don’t call for the need or demand for them. While Majors have the leeway to repress greatest hits collections that should rightly be dollar bill finds rather than big box rack space fillers in staggering numbers, there are all manner of albums on the margins that are getting pushed aside further into obscurity. Many of the reasons that the re-released column exists is that it’s a thrill to find the albums that were already maligned in their own time. Even if they find their way back to just a few heads willing to listen, in 300-500 runs, then some sense of justice has helped rebalance the past. When those lost gems are albums that never materialized in the first place, “lost” albums as it were, then that karmic glow shines all the brighter.
This gem from Moonlove is just such a case. The Kent, Ohio band never made much of an impact, releasing May Never Happen in 1985 in a scant tape edition of 25, enough for friends and fans around them at time. The record was cut on a bedroom cassette setup, bouncing tracks to a Betamax, which gives the record a private press quality. With a veneer of hiss and an intimate aura, the songs here feel like they were more than just the average open mic haunters. With shades of The Go-Betweens, Look Blue Go Purple, and a bit of Velvets in their blood, the band’s rough-cut record transcends its scuffed exterior with a batch of songs that stick to the ribs long after they’ve left the speakers. Had this one made its way out on Flying Nun or K Records at the time, their name might have entered the conversation far sooner than now. Thankfully the crew at Concentric Circles picked lucked into this one and got it some glory on the turntable some 36-years after it was willed into existence.
Support the artist. Buy it HERE.