Vinyl, re-acquired.
While I remained largely unaffected by Supertramp’s two albums in between, Crime of the Century and Breakfast in America both came along as stunners. Back during their original release dates, Supertramp’s poptuneishness heralded some kind of second-generation-progrock, but what they were lacking in artistic credibility, they made up for with perfectly executed autopoietic nostalgia: a succession of melancholic dirges and elegies—with the “lost innocence/childhood” topos as a major constituent and the Wurlitzer electric piano as a vascular conduit—that mourned the loss of its own achievement. Resonates well with me, still.
If you have something valuable to add or some interesting point to discuss, I’ll be looking forward to meeting you at Mastodon!