I realized last night that I have more than 3,600 songs on my iPod.

Of course, this came to me as I was in the midst of uploading another 50 or so tracks. Whoops.

I had no problem with the number — big deal, I am like countless others who have more music than they ever listen to — but the fact that I have many versions of the same songs gave me reason to pause.

I’ve taken to labeling Matt Nathanson’s “Car Crash” with version numbers, for instance. There’s the Paradise full-band version, UVM solo acoustic (v2.0), Century Lounge solo (v3.0) and Higher Ground full-band (v4.0). There may actually be another version I’ve misplaced — and this song hasn’t even been released in studio form yet.

Don’t even get me started on the Ryan Montbleau Band.

So I decided last night that I needed to add some new material to the little box of digital wonder. I raided iTunes and picked up a couple of albums. In classic baby-step form, however, one of the albums was by someone whose music I already love, with a song that mesmerizes me each time I hear it (Gregory Page and “Bon Voyage Mon Cheri,” respectively).

The other, however, is a pleasant surprise.

Jamie Randolph, “Villain.” Memphis-based songster. Rock sound with that smokey twang that Tennessee artists pull off so well (while the rest of the nation attempts in vain to mimic the nuance). After a few listens, I’m finding the album hit and miss — some really good tunes (“Wine Kings” and “Professional Time Killer” are packed with strong melody, good lines and a confident rhythm that sounds simpler than it actually is) and others victimized by overproduction (“Chanson du vampire” starts off well enough, but strays into intermittent uber-electric wails and synth melodies that suggest rock-out preening; the sirens at the end of “Crime Wave” only left me looking in my rear-view mirror this morning, wondering where the hell I’d see the flashing lights). While the verdict has yet to come on what I think of the album as a whole, I’m digging the musician — good voice, strong backing band…and there’s something appealing about the man as he sings “Their mothers tell them those people drink, they’re drinking to escape / Hell yes I do, ma’am, and you’d be drinking too / if you knew your daughter, like I do, is doing what you told her to.”

And then there’s Gregory. “Love Made Me Drunk” is the Parisian, accordian album that flows along with a slow, lilting grace. Already cognizant of the fact that not everyone is going to like Gregory Page — there’s a certain appreciation of music required, not necessarily contemporary music — I was aware prior to purchase that this would not be one of those albums I’d be able to recommend easily. But it is lovely and styled, scratchy in just the right places. It makes me want to go to Paris, and that impulse is extraordinarily rare. I have a few people in mind to whom I can suggest it, as long as they’re in the right frame of mind (particularly if they’ve had a glass of wine prior to listening — it’s that kind of album).

And then I downloaded some Panic! at the Disco. Ha.

Here’s to wishing you all happy Thanksgivings — if you’ll excuse me, I’m off to Massachusetts until Sunday. Have fun, dears…

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