The Electric Recording Co. Presses a Masterpiece- No Offense Intended!

A true all tube, monaural cut of a deeply moody and romantic album

There are certain words that trigger an immediate snarky response the instant they are uttered. Rolex. Mercedes. The list writes itself. Yet, at the root of the reaction is often one commonality: Money. In our current world, consumerism has become fully globalized. You can get just about anything you want when you want it. But there have been certain companies that simply won’t change their production, or their quality to meet market demand. Rolex comes to mind here. The result becomes waitlists, screening tactics and an increasingly agitated public. Who needs a Rolex anyway? My phone tells me the time. And who, may I ask, needs more than one? So, to many, the Rolex owner becomes a douche bag. And so it goes for many of the great old brands. What starts as a no-compromises product grows into a classic, and then the world has its way and gives birth to hype. And not every great product stays great- most don’t, in fact- even as the marketing (and pricing) machine continues to turn. It’s simply too easy to compromise quality and let the money flow.

But this is a record review, isn’t it?! You are correct, and it’s a review of a sold out, very pricey release that is basically unattainable unless you are willing to mine the secondary market for gold. And gold is practically what it will take in that space. Wow, just what the world needs right now! So, why even bother to take time and write these universally triggering sentences? For the algorithm, of course. I jest. My true motivation is to simply acknowledge how I often feel- and it’s certainly not just me- when I come across products like those made by The Electric Co. As soon as you mention the company, a common response may sound something like, “You spent $300 on a record?! How did you even get it? How could this sound better than an original pressing? You’ve changed, man!” No fun at all, I can assure you.

My good friend Ethan has an eclectic record collection that most would die to call their own. One night after a few drinks and many records, I realized that he had a section of his records dedicated to New Jazz. I remember him saying that he was into New Jazz, but I simply heard “new jazz”. I immediately made an internal judgment that sounded a little like, “Does that come with a linen shirt and a coke habit?” Shame on me for misunderstanding. And, funnily, I already had several titles in my collection without even making the connection. Yes, New Jazz was the "budget" arm of Prestige that debuted in 1958. If you love hard bop and soul jazz, you probably have a bunch of their fantastic titles. But what I noticed immediately, during a night that immediately turned into a nearly exclusive New Jazz listening session, was that the label featured supremely melodic players often with avant garde leanings. Mal Waldron, Jackie McClean, and the subject of today’s writing, Walt Dickerson.The top of the pile for that night was Dickerson’s To My Queen. Even the cover is evocative, and its mission statement is all contained in the title: This is a record for Mrs. Dickerson. She’s the “queen” on the cover…

Ok, so you hear an album and it fully obsesses you. And you are a record collector. So, what do you do? You, of course, immediately find yourself with a drink in one hand and Discogs in the other. You can either get an $250 original pressing (probably with their famous recycled vinyl), an early 80s Japanese stereo copy,  or a $900 secondary market Electric Recording Co. copy. Fuck that. I got the Japanese copy. It wasn’t the original mono copy but man it sounded like God. A new favorite record. 

But then I had the pleasure of visiting one Michael Fremer. And wouldn’t you know that a gleaming To My Queen from Electric Recording Co. was leaning right up against a giant stack of records next to his listening chair. “Hey, Michael, any chance we could throw this on!” And as I said the words, I knew I had made a mistake. Michael would not give me this record. That was for sure. And, I couldn’t afford to buy it second hand, so why bother torturing myself? Like all their records, it was out of print almost immediately. So, I mentally switched gears. I was prepared to hate it and, like so many others, unleash my bile on this label that would dare to have such an “exclusive” business model. Oh, the nerve…

But, that didn’t happen. On Fremer’s gargantuan Wilson speakers, the mono image stood as tall and wide as a skyscraper and it seemed to float, but it also contained such a heavy solidity at the same time. Fat and light- now that’s a party trick. It sonically shone like a gem. And that’s no exaggeration. Of course, there is the question of Michael’s system. But I’ve heard plenty of crappy sounding records at his house. His system, like any other, can’t make diamonds out of coal. So, I thought I had to at least reach out to Philip Vernol at ERC for a review copy to hear on my system. Fully expecting silence after hitting “send”, I was quite surprised to see a warm reply the next day with a tracking number. Wow, we were off to the races.

Some people look at records like fetishistic objects. And I guess it's easy to view them that way, especially if you don’t own any. They are an ancient medium; they are expensive; they can be quite exotic and, yes, they can be beautiful simply as objects. But, in general, that’s not really how I view them. I care about sound. And if the best sounding copy has a ring-worn cover or a stain, I’ll gladly add it to my collection. So, it was fairly amusing to feel a giant grin spreading across my face as I unwrapped the record that shipped (next day air from London) in a giant cardboard sandwich. This was no PB&J, either. It was a solid double club sandwich that was so rigid and fat that warps were simply not possible. Ok, so that was impressive, as warps are the enemy of my Kuzma arm featuring the impeccable, but choosy, Colossus headshell. The deep gloss of the cover, the letter-pressed artwork and even the characteristic “purple” shade chosen from the palette of purples that New Jazz has unintentionally enticed fans with for decades- this pressing has it all. Ok, so there was no “deep cut” on the label, but we’ll excuse that. Another fun aspect of this particular record was the all tube chain mono cutting system and the finished product that it yields. The grooves are so tight and even that it almost looks like there are no grooves at all. It was an impeccable specimen presented gorgeously. I guess that’s the level of quality that one should expect from such an expensive, limited release. I can say with confidence that, in this case, you truly do get what you pay for. 

All reviewers have their own style. Don’t tell anyone, but I generally skip all the sentences that opine about snares that “crack with authority” or bass lines that “speak with a voice that displays both depth and clarity”. I’d rather hear a quick overall impression because that’s how impressions work for me. I generally listen to the first few minutes of an album and I know exactly how I feel about the sound. Of course, after hearing the whole album, you do sometimes notice inconsistencies between tracks. And I note them. After much research you can often even discover reasons for these discrepancies. Maybe the album wasn’t all recorded at the same studio. Maybe different engineers were responsible for different tracks. Maybe there was damage to the tape, etc… Yet, none of that is happening here.

Luckily, Ethan lent me his original New Jazz pressing; I had my Japanese stereo copy, and I now had the Electric Recording Co. version. I ultrasonically cleaned all 3 and sat down for impressions. If you just heard one of these records, you’d fall in love with the sound (and most surely) the music. The star of the show is Walt Dickerson’s vibes playing, of course (though Andrew Hill just might be a tie). And the presentation of his instrument was fantastic on all of these versions. Yet, there was more noise on the original pressing and the drums and bass both seemed to have been limited. We could talk about the reasons for this, but it would be conjecture. The Japanese pressing was silent and dynamic. It contained much of the magic that the Electric Recording Co. version displays with such ease. But it’s stereo, and this is an album that, to me, is best enjoyed in the original mono. If you are looking for a reasonable copy that sounds incredible, I’d seek out one of the Japanese pressings for sure. But the ERC version is simply special. You can wipe your mind of all thoughts of packaging and presentation and just listen and you’ll agree. My copy was dead flat, dead silent and stunningly dynamic. I’ve heard many mono recordings that felt like you were simply listening into a narrow but deep sonic passage. They certainly feel “authentic” but I always miss the stereo. I know them’s fighting words, but it has often been my experience. So, the party trick here is the width and the dynamics of the image thrown by this version of To My Queen. You realize AFTER listening that it was mono. And then you immediately wonder why all monaural recordings don’t sound this good. Is it the fact that Electric Recording Co. doesn’t remaster? Is it because they choose recording where the tape is in incredible condition? Is it because of their obsessive vintage cutting system using a monaural cutter head? It’s probably all of the above, and frankly I don’t care. 

Why do you seek out one of their recordings? You passionately love the featured album like your favorite movie. I watch "After Hours" at least 2 times a year and have since it came out in the mid 80’s. If I could watch it on film each time, I certainly would. And that’s what the Electric Recording Co. does. If you have enough money to buy them all, do it. You probably didn’t feel the lost cash anyway. And you’ll be supporting a no-expenses barred venture. If you feel your purchases, and most of us truly do, I still can see a world where I pick up a few of my treasured albums from their catalog. Most of us don’t listen to our entire collections. We listen to our lifelong friends, our gems, more regularly. If all my gems were from Electric Recording Co, I’d be living my best musical life. Bravo.