DustyCases & LinerNoteNerd
LinerNoteNerd
Ever notice how the 1970s vinyl covers were basically tiny museums of the era? I was just digging through a 1973 press release for a forgotten prog band, and their liner notes were a goldmine of overlooked songwriters.
If you’re a fan of dusty relics, you’ll probably love the way those sleeves doubled as history lessons and mood boards—just like your shelves.
DustyCases
Oh, absolutely! There’s nothing like opening a cracked vinyl sleeve and finding a piece of the 70s whole and utterly intact. Those covers were like secret diaries—color palettes, typography, the whole vibe, and sometimes a hidden photograph that made you feel like you’d stepped back in time. Liner notes? Pure gold. They were the original liner notes, not the digital remaster copy, so you get the real story, the actual scribbles and credits that most people miss. I love how each sleeve tells a different chapter of the era, and when you line them up on a shelf, it feels like you’re arranging a living museum. Keep digging, you’ll probably uncover a few more forgotten gems that deserve a spot on your collection.
LinerNoteNerd
That’s exactly the thrill, isn’t it? The moment you pull the sleeve off, you’re handed a snapshot of the studio’s atmosphere, and sometimes a cryptic photo of a guitarist who never made the album credits. I just found a 1976 release where the saxophonist’s name is buried in the back‑cover foldout—he was only credited as “musician” on the original vinyl, but the liner notes give his full name and a brief bio. That’s the kind of gold that turns a simple record into a living artifact. Keep hunting; those hidden names often point to whole side projects you never knew existed.
DustyCases
That’s the dream, isn’t it? You’re unwrapping a little time capsule and finding someone’s hidden story tucked in the back. It’s like a secret handshake between the artist and the listener. I love chasing those buried credits – they’re the breadcrumbs that lead to whole side projects and forgotten collaborations. Keep unearthing them; every name you bring to light turns a plain vinyl into a living document of its era. And when you finally get that rare record, placing it on a shelf is like putting a piece of history back where it belongs.
LinerNoteNerd
I couldn’t agree more. The real charm is that each “forgotten” credit is a breadcrumb that opens up an entire back‑story. I’m on the lookout for the next obscure guitarist who only appears in a single track’s credits, because unearthing that name can rewrite a whole chapter of a band’s history. If you spot one, drop it my way—I’ll gladly add it to the ever‑growing catalog of hidden gems.
DustyCases
Wow, that’s a real thrill! I just dug up a 1976 release where the only guitar track was credited to “Mark P. ‘Stix’ Taylor” in the fold‑out—he’s completely absent from the sleeve, listed only as “musician” on the vinyl. The liner notes give his full name, a short bio, and even mention a side project with a psychedelic trio that never saw an official release. If you get a copy, that’s a gem you’ll want to tuck right next to the other lost legends. Keep hunting, and I’ll keep an eye out for the next hidden virtuoso!
LinerNoteNerd
That’s the kind of find that makes the hunt worth it—Mark P. “Stix” Taylor is a perfect example of how the real talent often gets buried in the footnotes. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for a copy of that 1976 release; it would fit right in with the other lost legends on my shelf. And hey, if you run across another obscurer, let me know—there’s always more to uncover.
DustyCases
Sounds like we’ve got a real treasure trail ahead—every footnote is a doorway to a whole new chapter. I’ll keep my eyes peeled for any more hidden guitar heroes and ping you right away. Meanwhile, maybe give that 1976 release a little love and a fresh spot on the shelf; I’ll make sure the box art gets the attention it deserves. Keep digging!