Keep music compilations coming

In my regular trawl through my old vinyl, I’ve come to a hefty section of Vancouver compilations. These are collections of aspiring acts gathered for a specific cause or a promotion: Cancer, disabilities, the environment, aboriginal rights, radio station promotions, recording studio promotions, a historical moment.

A few are legendary. The Cool Aid Benefit Album was an admirable failure in 1969 but we heard what it could have been when it was expanded and reissued on CD by Regenerator a few years ago. The Vancouver Complication album was a keen but flawed look at the birth of punk/new wave rock in Vancouver.

Almost all rhapsodize about the vast wealth of talent here. A listen is convincing — there’s never been a shortage of talent on the West Coast — but they leave you wondering. Most acts never broke through, for one reason or another; many are a product of their times and fell back into obscurity as soon as the trend they represented died. Architecturally wondrous haircuts matched by hiccuping vocals; gated drums and overbearing synthesizer, that kind of fickle fashion. So, whatever became of Jump, which had a stand out track on Vancouver Seeds Three?

Jump hints at the problem. A compilation offers possible exposure and an entry into recording. Compilations, however, are hard sells. Consumers balk at taking a chance on unknowns and even radio pays lip service to its own records, often playing just enough to fulfil its promise of performance to the CRTC.

Compilations kept coming into the CD age, even if the way music is marketed changed. There is a lot of talent in Vancouver and some of it is on display but only the most determined or resourceful talent surfaces afterward.