one small good thing

I have to admit, the digital era has left me longing for another age, a craving satisfied by old things made of wood and creaking leather, Victorian lace, hardcover books, paintings in gilded frames and … anything put out by Numero.

I once spent every extra dollar I earned on a midwest tour on Numbero titles, scouring record stores for the familiar white cd jackets and stenciled series numbers. Numero isn’t about new music. No, they are too busy prying unheard musical gems from the vaults of long dead labels and reissuing them in impeccably designed volumes. Each collection comes with a svelte booklet full of photographs and includes a cultural history of the unknown singers, producers and label mogul wannabees who toiled far from any established music ’scene,’ their studios buried deep in Texas or in some industrial cranny of Columbus, Ohio. Funk, soul, samba, gospel, Americana — Numero’s catalog leaves skidmarks across just about every genre you can think of. Cds? Check! Vinyl? Check!

And can you believe that Numero also recently issued their own series of “No Stars” collectible trading cards featuring the forgotten musicians that no one ever cared about? As George Eliot once said, “the growing good of the world is partly dependent on unhistoric acts; and that things are not so ill with you and me as they might have been, is owing to the number who lived faithfully a hidden life, and rest in unvisited tombs.” Amen, Numero.