I grew up in Canada and in 1973, When I was seven I discovered pop music. Previously pretty oblivious due in part to the family’s radio tuned to the typical middle of the road FM station that played a spectrum of adult acceptable music. This, of course, could range from classical to light jazz, with an occasional vocalist thrown in. I’m not sure how but In the second grade I discovered the sound of The Beatles. With that I became aware of beautiful looking red album with all their hits. I began to covet this album as only a 7 year old could – desirous and impatient. I had to have it. I pestered my parents that this would be the ultimate Christmas gift for 1973. I’m not sure my parents paid much attention. However, as Christmas approached I received a card from my Nan in the UK with a 1 pound note. Thrilled, my Mother got it exchanged for 10 Canadian dollars and said I could spend it when we went Christmas shopping in the City next week. Could this be my musical deliverance?
So on Saturday, December 8 1973 we traveled by trolley bus to downtown Vancouver where I saw that red album in the Granville Street Woolworths. $8.49 and it was mine. Thank you Nan.
I played that record constantly to the point of almost wearing it out. I played it as a teenager when being a Beatles fan seemed passé to the expected teenage acceptance of the harder, “cooler” rock music sounds of AC/DC and it’s fashion of black T-shirts.
On a different December 8 it was the first thing I played when I heard that John Lennon had been killed.
When I eventually shipped all my records to Australia it was the first album I dug out of the packing crate on put in the turntable. As all good records it has the power to transport you back to a time of personal innocence and youthful possibility.
