Bussard kept only the best, pitching lots of "junk." To him, American music peaked in the 1920s and '30s. "The world was just bustin' with music," he said. It has been downhill since. In fact, he asserts that jazz "ended" in 1933, due both to the Depression and to the advent of the big band sound he likens to "watching cars rust." So he doesn't think much of Glenn Miller or Artie Shaw or John Coltrane. And Duke Ellington? Only the early stuff, Bussard says, "when the Duke was still the Duke."
Country, he says, fared better, but only until the mid-1950s. Then rock arrived and, in his view, tarnished country and every other music form - except his beloved bluegrass. (He's got thousands of bluegrass records, too.) As the rock craze swept America in the 1950s, Bussard burrowed ever deeper into old record stacks.
"I never liked Elvis," he said. "I couldn't see anything into it. It just didn't move me whatsoever." And the Beatles? "Rotten." Johnny Cash? "You mean Johnny Crack?" To Bussard it's all illogical, intolerable noise. The off switch, he says, is "the best button on the radio."
Spend enough time with Bussard and his two-track demeanor emerges. Side A is the sunny music nut, the one who plays a mean air sax, air clarinet and air piano; who marvels at how different musical styles sounded on opposite sides of the same mountain back in the day; and who'll spin the "last" record for a visitor only to hop up and shout, "Wait! I gotta play one more."
Side B is the crotchety grump who not only has an aversion to modern music but to lots else besides, including cheese (he can't explain why), Democrats (don't get him started) and drums, to name a few.
While he might wish he could time-travel back 80 years, it would be a mistake to accuse him of consistency. He has a MySpace page and a Web site ( www.vintage78.com) that his daughter's ex-husband helps run.
He's also more than willing to digitize his music library - provided he's fairly compensated.
The Library of Congress has ambitious digitization plans with an eventual aim of putting the music online. A recent study found that only 14 percent of the 400,000 American records made from 1895 to 1965 can be bought on CD, via iTunes or the like. Most recordings remain in the hands of collectors like Bussard and institutional archives, while some languish in record company vaults or no longer exist.
The library will have to work with collectors, said DeAnna, to expand its catalog of 3 million recordings.
To which Bussard says, bluntly: "I hope they have plenty of money. I'm not doing anything for free." He says he has sunk too much time and money to lend out his records gratis, even if that would spread the music more widely than he could on his own.
Ledbetter values Bussard's collection at $5 million to $10 million, based on eBay prices. Bussard has no desire to sell, though, not now. He doesn't really need the cash with his reverse mortgage, Social Security payments and modest music sales. More to the point, "I'm not that close to the grave yet. Music is the only thing I really enjoy."
Besides, he can't imagine Heaven sounding any sweeter than his basement.
scott.calvert@baltsun.com
ONLINE
Video of Bussard and his records at baltimoresun.com/bussard
