Crate & Case: Dolly Parton, Talking Heads, Cedric Burnside, Judy Garland and Eric Dolphy From The Used Records And CDs Bins

I don’t do nostalgia for the warm fuzzies; I do it to separate the wheat from the whining. Remind me your copy of Tattoo You set you back $8 in 1981 and I’ll pry your tonearm off with my teeth. Last week ended with me on a gurney, my chest freshly shaved so three nurses could slap on sensors and drag me through a battery of tests—three EKGs, chest X‑rays, the whole rodeo.

The small mercy while they poked and prodded? News that the remaining hostages in Gaza were finally coming home on the 13th — some to emotional reunions, others to proper Jewish burials for those Hamas kidnapped, brutalized, and murdered in the tunnels under Gaza.

Yeah, I’m a tad salty. I’m 55 and not ready to have that long and depressing movie party with G-d where I’m stuck watching Friday the 13th or Taylor’s release flick for the rest of eternity as punishment. It’s been that kind of year but I’m smart enough to know when lifestyle changes need to happen.

Welcome to Crate & Case—a week that ended with more adrenaline than caffeine. And no, I didn’t dismiss it as “just some heartburn” after downing another Boureka during Sukkot. Life has a way of reminding you that spinning vinyl is easier than spinning fate.

Used Vinyl and CDs: Because Paying Full Price for New Mediocre Music is for Suckers

Going used—especially when you can find CDs and vinyl in near-mint condition—isn’t just being thrifty, it’s being smart. I walked out of PRX with Dolly Parton’s Jolene, Eric Dolphy’s Far Cry with Booker Little (Prestige, 20-bit K2), Cedric Burnside’s Benton County Relic, Judy Garland’s Judy at Carnegie Hall, and Talking Heads’ Speaking in Tongues—five albums for under $63. Paying only $5.99 for the Dolphy CD was a downright steal.

Dolly Parton – Jolene

Dolly Parton’s Jolene isn’t just a country classic—it’s a masterclass in emotional clarity wrapped in twang and heartbreak. Written and recorded in 1973, it’s one of those songs that feels eternal, partly because it came from a very real place. The redhead in question wasn’t some grand homewrecker, but a bank teller who flirted a little too much with Dolly’s husband, Carl Dean. The name “Jolene”? Borrowed from a young fan with striking red hair who asked for an autograph. Dolly just fused the two stories into a song that could stop time.

My affection for Dolly started early—back when I was dating my own “Dolly,” who eventually became the love of my life and, somehow, my closest friend. Maybe that’s why Jolene still hits the way it does. It’s more than jealousy and heartbreak—it’s brutal honesty set to a melody that refuses to fade.

And then there’s “I Will Always Love You” — the song a whole generation swears Whitney Houston created. To be fair, Whitney made it her own and turned it into one of the biggest hits in history. But Dolly dropped this gem first, back in 1974, and she did it with nothing but her voice, a guitar, and that unmistakable tremor that cuts straight through the chest.

The quiver in Dolly’s delivery still sends shivers down my spine. It’s not polished or overblown—it’s raw, aching truth. Nobody’s ever sold that kind of goodbye the same way. It’s the sound of love, loss, and grace all tangled together. And if you’ve ever had to let go of someone you still love, you already know exactly what she meant.

Where to buy: $26.97 at Amazon

Eric Dolphy with Booker Little – Far Cry

Recorded on December 21, 1960, at Van Gelder Studios in Englewood Cliffs, Far Cry captures Eric Dolphy and trumpeter Booker Little right in the middle of a creative storm. Charlie Parker’s ghost lingers over the session—literally in the track titles “Mrs. Parker of K.C. (Bird’s Mother)” and “Ode to Charlie Parker”—but Dolphy isn’t content to stay in bebop’s shadow. He’s already clawing his way toward the outer edges of jazz, the territory critics later dismissed as “anti-jazz.” Spoiler: it wasn’t anti-anything. It was just Dolphy being Dolphy—restless, fearless, and a little bit weird in the best possible way.

Far Cry isn’t Dolphy’s most accessible record, and not every wild swing clears the fence. But when he connects—on pieces like the debut of “Miss Ann” or his haunting solo take on “Tenderly”—he absolutely goes yard. Booker Little’s lyrical trumpet keeps things grounded while Jaki Byard’s piano shapeshifts through hard bop, stride, and free passages like he’s juggling genres just to see what sticks.

This was music ahead of its time, and it still sounds that way. Even today, Far Cry feels like jazz stepping into uncharted airspace—uncomfortable, electric, and alive.

Where to buy: $40 at Amazon

Cedric Burnside – Benton County Relic

Cedric Burnside’s Benton County Relic (Single Lock Records) isn’t just another blues record, it’s living proof that Hill Country blues is still alive and kicking. A Grammy-nominated artist and one of my favorite blues voices of the past two decades, Burnside doesn’t just carry the torch, he is the fire. This album is raw, electric, and grounded in a regional tradition that existed long before anyone cared about Billboard charts or streaming numbers. It sounds like it could have been recorded yesterday or sixty years ago, gritty, human, and timeless.

The stories Burnside tells are as real as they come. On “My Day,” when he sings, “I pick up my guitar / I might write a song or two,” it’s not a metaphor, it’s his daily grind. And in “We Made It,” the line about walking three miles for water isn’t nostalgia, it’s autobiography. This isn’t just blues about hard times, it’s blues from hard times.

Raised in Holly Springs, Mississippi, Burnside learned the craft firsthand from the legends: Junior Kimbrough, Jessie Mae Hemphill, Otha Turner, and of course his grandfather, the great R.L. “Big Daddy” Burnside. So when Cedric plugs in and lets it rip, it’s not imitation. It’s family business. Benton County Relic doesn’t just honor that lineage, it reminds you why Hill Country blues still matters.

Where to buy: $34.18 at Amazon

Judy Garland – Judy at Carnegie Hall

Judy Garland’s Judy at Carnegie Hall isn’t just a live album—it’s the definition of a comeback that never really needed to happen, because Judy never truly went away. Recorded April 23, 1961, at New York’s Carnegie Hall and released a few months later by Capitol Records, it’s two hours of Garland at her most electric, emotional, and utterly unstoppable. Backed by Mort Lindsey’s orchestra, she turned that stage into her personal Emerald City, and for one night, everyone there was following her yellow brick road.

The setlist reads like a tour through American songbook royalty: Gershwin, Berlin, Rodgers and Hart, Arlen and Harburg—all filtered through Judy’s lived-in voice, one that could break your heart or bring down the house, sometimes in the same breath. Her renditions of “The Man That Got Away,” “Stormy Weather,” and of course, “Over the Rainbow,” still feel like she’s singing directly to every lost soul in the audience. There’s humor, heartbreak, and a touch of chaos—the Judy trifecta.

This wasn’t a polished pop spectacle; it was Judy laying everything bare, warts, brilliance, and all. Judy at Carnegie Hall went on to win four Grammys, including Album of the Year, and it still sounds like one long standing ovation. If there was ever a moment when Garland reminded the world who the hell she was, this was it. Toto, we’re definitely not in Kansas anymore.

Where to buy: $22.56 at Amazon

Talking Heads – Speaking in Tongues

This was the first album I ever bought as a teenager — straight off the shelves at Sam the Record Man on Yonge Street. The cover looked weird enough to grab my attention, and I was already halfway down the rabbit hole of early-’80s new wave and art rock, so Talking Heads fit right in with my musical confusion.

After parting ways with Brian Eno, the band took a breather to stretch their creative muscles — side projects, experimentation, and whatever else David Byrne’s brain does when it’s not melting itself. When they came back together in ’82, the result was Speaking in Tongues, a funkier, more rhythm-driven version of Talking Heads that somehow made its way into the mainstream.

The album produced “Burning Down the House,” their only U.S. top-ten hit, which felt like a controlled explosion of art-school chaos and pop genius. Then there’s “This Must Be the Place (Naive Melody),” still one of the most quietly emotional songs to come out of the decade. Tracks like “Girlfriend Is Better” and “Slippery People” made it clear the band could groove as hard as they could think.

It’s danceable, strange, brilliant, and still sounds like the future trying to sneak its way into 1983. I didn’t know it at the time, but Speaking in Tongues wasn’t just my first record. It was my first education in what music could actually do.

Where to buy: $24.98 at Amazon

Related Reading:

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