Available in-store only on Record Store Day - Sat 20th April
“The greatest coffee table book ever made” – Larry Clark
“The recordings collected here are artifacts of a media universe that no longer exists. They were created, against very high odds, in a world in which both the means of production and the means of distribution were held as near-complete monopolies by the ‘record’ industry.” - William Gibson
Enjoy The Experience is the largest collection of American private press vinyl ever amassed and presented, featuring over 1,000 reproductions of the cover art of self released titles from 1958-1992. It is the seventh major book release by Johan Kugelberg, the author and editor behind The Velvet Underground: New York Art, Born In The Bronx and Punk: An Aesthetic (Rizzoli), True Norwegian Black Metal (Vice), Brad Pitt’s Dog (Zero Books) and Beauty Is In The Street: A Visual Record of the May ’68 Paris Uprising (Four Corners).
The subjects of Enjoy The Experience range from Lesbian Folk singers to Psychedelic Disco bands; Awkward Teen Pop combos to Pizza
Parlor Organists; Religious Cult Leaders to Swank Sinatra Imitators. But this is not a novelty freak show: also profiled and discussed are some of the most highly regarded rock, soul, jazz, funk and singer/songwriter albums from the latter half of the twentieth century. From the awkward-yet-talented to the genius-yet-bizarre, one thing unites all musicians presented here: they sincerely hoped to become stars, they committed themselves to record, and they left themselves vulnerable to an industry not understanding of nuance, not
appreciative of character.
Enjoy The Experience includes an introduction by editor Johan Kugelberg, a lengthy overview by legendary rare record dealer Paul Major, along with commentaries, hundreds of reviews and over fifty biographies by noted enthusiasts and collectors like Gregg Turkington, Will Louviere, Brandan Kearney, Geoffrey Weiss, Jack Streitman, Eothen Alapatt, Rich Haupt and Mike Ascherman.
“These discs are a magnificent collection of lost sounds. Organ-fronted orchestras that make you wish Washington Phillips had gone electric; a few songs imaginable as hits which still never neared any chart, western yodels that somehow become confrontations with other dimensions a la Dormmamu, bouncy numbers reveling in the forthcoming, blood-soaked apocalypse, lounge singers appearing each night at ever-more Nabokovian Holiday Inns.” – Jack Womack