Andrew Mason (Monk-One)

Here is Monk-One, a DJ and music journalist from Brooklyn, NY. Since the age of 10, Monk’s been after vinyl for one reason, “I wanted the whole package: artwork, liner notes, and the music. As time has passed and we’re surrounded by digital media, I’ve grown fond of the unique aspects of the vinyl format.” He’s one of the founding editors at Wax Poetics Magazine and has been turning out pleasing pieces for over a decade. Along with Wax Poetics, he’s the co-owner of Names You Can Trust, an independent record label out of his home base, New York City.

His collection spans over 15,000 LPs—more than most record stores hold! He’s been doing this record thing for a while, so trust him, he knows a thing or two. If you ask him about his favorites in his collection, he won’t pick out the rarest and most expensive LP; he’ll show you the best sounds and memories.

We talked about why vinyl will forever be the correct choice, his favorite digging moments, and finding a balance between DJing and writing about music.

Booker T. & The MG’s – And Now!, Soul Limbo. A pair of childhood necessities.

What was your first album? How did you get it? At what age? Can you describe that feeling? Do you still have it?

When I was young, my parents gave me a little record player and a box of stories, nursery tales, and such on 7-inch records with picture book sleeves. You were supposed to read along and turn the page when the chime rang. I spent hours entertaining myself that way.

My father also had rock & roll and soul 45s that I would play if he let me. That was how I first got hip to Stax/Volt stuff, mainly Booker T & the MG’s; this significantly influenced my taste.

What prompted you to start collecting? What age did you start?

I never woke up and decided to start collecting; it was more of a gradual accumulation over the years. I have always liked music, and from the age of 10 or so, I have spent my chore money on pop singles at Sam Goody, Tower Records, and other places like that.

“I will ‘ruin’ a mint copy of a rare record by subjecting it to repeated spins and have even been known to bring these records to filthy bars and clubs!”

Monk digging through his overwhelming wall of records.

“It was the format of choice when I was growing up. You could always record a tape from vinyl, but you couldn’t make a record from a cassette. Besides, I wanted the whole package: artwork, liner notes, and the music.”

Do you remember the day when you switched from being a record listener to a record collector?

I’m always, first and foremost, a record listener. I will “ruin” a mint copy of a rare record by subjecting it to repeated spins and have even been known to bring these records to filthy bars and clubs! I don’t see myself as solely a collector. I just have a lot of music.

What was your initial interest in music? Did you get influence from your family?

My father had records and was an audiophile with a reel-to-reel and all that. He played trumpet, and I tried it myself for a while. That didn’t go too well. I ended up teaching myself guitar and went on to play bass, guitar, and drums in bands from high school onward. My grandfather played professionally (i.e. made money at it) but never cut a record.

Why vinyl?

It was the format of choice when I was growing up. You could always record a tape from vinyl, but you couldn’t make a record from a cassette. Besides, I wanted the whole package: artwork, liner notes, and the music. As time has gone by and we’re surrounded by digital media, I’ve also grown fond of the unique aspects of the vinyl format (fuller sound, superior tactile and visual feedback, etc).

How many LPs do you own? 45s?

Too many! Rough guess… About 15,000 LPs and 800 45s.

The workspace.

Have you ever battled for a rare record?

Oh no. That’s not my style. Somebody who I won’t name (Ok, it was my friend Big Steve-O from uptown) once literally yanked a copy of Funkadelic’s first album out of my hands–I’d found it in a stack that we were both going through, and I guess he felt he needed it more than I did. I found that extremely uncouth.

Tell me a crazy story over a particular record.

As a hip-hop head of a certain age, I’ve coddled a long-standing compulsion to get my hands on every old-school breakbeat I can. One of the keystones of the canon is The Honey Drippers’ “Impeach The President,” a funky comment on the Nixon follies. It’s not the rarest or the most expensive record in the world, but you couldn’t land one without $150 or so.

So, around the time of Bill Clinton’s Monica mishap, I was in a local junk store rummaging through a box of 45s that had recently come in. The owner said I was free to look but that he hadn’t checked them yet, so there was an off chance that he might want something in there for himself.

As I started in on the hundred or so unsleeved 7-inches, I knew right away it was a promising stash: purple and red People labels, tan Sussexes, Black-with-the-rainbow-streak De-Lites, pale blue All-Platinums–all independent soul and funk. Suddenly, a heart-stopping vision: the near-mythic sunny yellow label with a crisp red “Alaga” in block letters at the top. “Impeach the President.” I flipped through the rest of the singles in a daze, slowly realizing there was one more obstacle before I could claim my prize. If the owner had caught sight of the title, which was implausibly relevant to current events, surely he’d want to keep it. Choosing a sturdy group of security titles to flank the “President,” I carefully placed the small stack A-side-down on the counter, hoping the owner wouldn’t turn them over.

He immediately did. Pulling out a James Brown here, a Kool & the Gang there for himself, time slowed as he approached the only record in the pile I cared about. He gazed at it for an hour or so (It was only a few seconds). Then, it was over. He placed it in my bag and rang me up for something like $4.75 (25 cents a record), and I was out in the sunlight.

James Brown – “Talking Loud And Saying Nothing (Parts 1&2),” “Get Up Offa That Thing.” “James Brown picture sleeves, one from Spain and one from Hungary.”

Another hip-hop holy grail came to me at a street fair less than a mile from that spot. It had started to rain, and the vendors were packing up. Peeking out of a milk crate of jumbled 7-inches, one jumped into my hands: Melvin Bliss’s “Synthetic Substitution” on the Sunburst label. The dealer whisked the crate away from me (“Come on, they’re getting wet, and I have to go!”), I handed him a dollar, and I was gone.

Melvin Bliss – “Synthetic Substitution.” On one of Mason’s favorite labels, Sunburst.

What’s your partner’s reaction to this obsession?

My gracious gal loves music and occasionally encourages me to pick stuff up that she thinks is cool. Most recently, the 12-inch single “Strawberry Letter #23” on strawberry-colored vinyl and Supreme Nyborn’s “Versatility.”

Can you name a few of your most expensive ones?

I don’t know. Not being an eBay purchaser or spending a lot of time in collector-oriented stores, my grasp of prices is tenuous. But let me pick something for fun… How about Grand Wizard Theodore’s “Can I Get A Soul Clap” You could probably buy a roundtrip ticket to Tokyo with that.

Grand Wizard Theodore – “Can I Get A Soul Clap,” Disco Dave And The Force Of The 5 MCs – “High Power Rap.” Two of Mason’s grails!

What about some rare finds?

I don’t really know. I have acetates and test-pressings that are practically unique, as well as some stuff like this 1975 invitation to the Better Days disco with Tee Scott talking up the party over “Love Is the Message”–that’s got to be pretty scarce.

“But like I said, I enjoy the chance meetings with things I didn’t know about more than the relentless pursuit of known quantities.”

Tee Scott – “Disco Party.” “Tee Scott’s audio invitation to a party at Better Days, dated October 19, 1975.”

“There’s only so much you can put into words when explaining the emotions surrounding music. Granted, as a ‘music journalist,’ I’ve spent many hours trying to do just that.”

Is there a record that you are trying to find, unsuccessfully? What would you give for it?

There are always passing infatuations, and there are always fundamentals that you don’t have. As a wise man once said, “You can never know everything, have everything, or hear everything.” But like I said, I enjoy the chance meetings with things I didn’t know about more than the relentless pursuit of known quantities.

Out of your great collection, there must be a few records you like returning to at any time. What makes them so special for you?

Great music! Hugh Mundell’s Africa Must Be Free, Roy Ayers’s Mystic Voyage, Monk Plays Ellington. There are so many, and never enough!

There’s only so much you can put into words when explaining the emotions surrounding music. Granted, as a “music journalist,” I’ve spent many hours trying to do just that. Still, I’ll be the first to acknowledge that it is a somewhat quixotic enterprise (someone once famously likened writing about music to “dancing about architecture.”). 

What do my favorite records have in common? I suppose they all speak to me on a particularly comforting level; they each affirm, challenge, and delight me how a good friend should. I have never gotten tired of Hugh Mundell and Augustus Pablo’s moody soulfulness, Roy Ayers’ intricate grooves, or Thelonious Monk’s intense playfulness, and I don’t expect I ever will!

Shinehead – “Mama Used To Say,” Hugh Mundell – Africa Must Be Free By 1983. Two reggae favorites you can’t get sick of.

Do you have any favorite album cover art or artist? Any special reason?

I have a soft spot for spiritual jazz and the attendant art, stuff like Byron Morris & Unity Blow Thru Your Mind, Luis Gasca’s self-titled, and Shamek Farrah’s First Impressions. There’s a bizarre Spanish picture sleeve of Gil Scott-Heron’s “The Bottle” that depicts Gil as a blond Kirk Douglas type. Visually sequential Jackets are great too, like the Reid Miles designs for Miles Davis Volume 1 & 2 on Blue Note or Tico’s Tito Puente 10-inches.

Gil Scott-Heron / Brian Jackson – “The Bottle.” Iconic illustrations on this one.

Luis Gasca – For Those Who Chant, Shamek Farrah – First Impressions. Two of Monk’s favorites.

Byron Morris And Unity – Blow Thru Your Mind. More insane art on this one by John Blazeski.

Dirtiest, sexiest, filthiest album cover you know or own? Sorry, it’s a personal fetish of mine.

I dunno. Maybe Lloydie and the Lowbites, or how about this flexidisc I found in the sleeve of another record, “Confessions of a Nymphomaniac”?

Unknown Artist – “Confessions Of A Nymphomaniac.” Kids advert your eyes.

Is there a specific musical instrument that attracts you when listening to music? Can you describe the feeling?

Nah, it’s all in how it’s played! But, I am partial to some Fender Rhodes and the wonderful Wurlitzer electric piano.

Demjén Ferenc – Fújom A Dalt, Greenwood Rhythm Coalition – Greenwood Rhythm Coalition. “I found the record on the left in Budapest. I love the cover; the songs are almost as grand–filled with funky bits and pieces. The record on the right is the first EP from my group, Greenwood Rhythm Coalition. One of our songs has a bass line directly inspired by the Hungarian LP.”

Ranking Dread – Ranking Dread In Dub. A perfect fit.

Sam & Dave – “I Thank You.” “A fundamental soul classic, and it is so tough and heartfelt. I’ve got 7-inches that are more obscure, but there’s a good reason that the classics are classics: they are the cream of the crop! This record represents the gift my father gave me by being into 45s and Booker T & the MGs.”

Walls upon walls of Monk’s never-ending collection.

“Because records have such a powerful combination of sound and vision, my associations with them tend to stick–I remember where I found them, where and when I played them, and where they are sitting in this disorganized basement!”

How many times have you left a record in your library and couldn’t find it?

Believe it or not, it doesn’t happen that often. While you were here, I wanted to show you this Thai kickboxer’s theme song, and I couldn’t put my hands on it. Of course, it turned up the minute you walked out the door. Because records have such a powerful combination of sound and vision, my associations with them tend to stick–I remember where I found them, where and when I played them, and where they are sitting in this disorganized basement! That said, there is one 7-inch I know I have and haven’t been able to find for years. I dropped Vicki Anderson’s “In the Land Of Milk and Honey” into the sleeve of an LP for safekeeping at a gig once, and though I know it’s here somewhere, I can’t remember which album it is in for the life of me.

Sparky Dee – “He’s My DJ.” “My favorite DJ, the legendary Red Alert, wrote a message to me on this copy of Sparky Dee’s ‘He’s My DJ’ (a Red Alert tribute record). It says, ‘Listen, no matter what, keep rockin.’”

Interview edited by Sam Cohen.