I think one of the natural tendencies of students working in college radio is to spend the time building their own personal music collections. I don’t mean that the theoretically student in question plays something new and exciting on their radio program, inspiring a trip to the friendly neighborhood record store. Instead, it it done somewhat illicitly, spare copies of CDs or vinyl records going straight from mailed packages to bookbags. I use the qualifier somewhat because, in my experience, the representatives of the labels and the distribution companies were often complicit in this practice, actively encouraging music directors to hang on to whatever extra copies came in or specifically sending out additional discs or giveaway copies for just that purpose. This was probably done with the theory that the little gift to the M.D, would translate into higher charting positions for the album, a theory that was probably sound. I’m not sure how much appeal this practice has now, with most new releases probably getting dumped directly onto staffers’ iPods before it even gets to the shelf, but in my distant era, when crummy cassette copies were the best would could do on our own, it held a huge appeal.

Despite this and despite ample opportunity to do so, I largely refrained from the practice. I don’t think this is heroic on my part or an indication of greater moral bearing or anything. It simply wasn’t part of the culture of the station I was at during the time I started there. Our extra copies were given away over the air to listeners. The contests were simple radio call-ins peppered throughout the programming schedule. At the time I started there was also the Sunday night bonanza hosted by my eventual movie reviewer colleague. That program, “The College Count-Up,” featured at least one prize per hour, often the biggest college radio releases of the time since they needed to correspond to the songs that filled the CMJ chart tracking the top forty cuts being played on college stations nationwide. You couldn’t pilfer a copy of Rattle and Hum from the music cabinet when it would be needed on Sunday night.

Of course, I did indulge occasionally, but it was always accompanied by a certain amount of anguish. It happened rarely enough that I can still survey my collection, some twenty years later, and identify the handful of releases that reside there because of the unintended largesse of the record industry. I’ve previously noted that The Cost of Living’s Comic Book Page came into my possession that way, and my copy of Sugar’s debut album proved irresistible to pluck away since it was actually issued to us as a double disc set with a compilation entitled Life Before Sugar with fantastic Husker Du and Bob Mould solo songs. In both those instances, I didn’t think I’d be able to come across the releases in any other way.

My copy of Hey Babe, however, is a different matter. I just wanted it, plain and simple. I remember sitting in my office and deciding that this sole extra copy of Juliana Hatfield’s solo debut would be mine instead of heading into the pile of material to be given away. As I recall, it stayed in that office for quite some time, sitting on the windowsill. Even though I decided to take it, the guilt was pronounced enough that it took me a few weeks to muster up the fortitude to actually take it home. Given the timing of the album’s release, it was likely one of the first CDs I owned.

I still have that copy. I still like it. And, yes, I still feel a little guilty about it.

Juliana Hatfield, “Everybody Loves Me But You”

(Disclaimer: This song was selected largely because the album it was originally housed upon seems to now be out of print. Interestingly, the compilation Hatfield released a few years ago is also out of print. That typed, the song is readily available through the iTunes store, so if you really like it, you might want to head over there and give Juliana whatever allotment of the ninety-nine cent price that heads into her pocket. Or maybe buy her book. Or don’t. Clearly given the story above, I have no business suggesting others pony up dough to Ms. Hatfield. If someone with due authority to do so asks me to remove this song from the Interweb, I will gladly comply.)