Guys – imagine yourself in this scenario: It’s 1949, and you’re sweet on a gal from down the street. You were high school classmates before the war (home room acquaintances, really). And now that you’re back in Anyville, USA – alive, somehow surviving the carnage on Iwo Jima and the Pacific theater in general – you realize you need to make a mixtape to express your deep and sincere feelings for this green-eyed, raven-haired object of your affection.

But cassette tapes won’t be invented until 1963. And there’s no Casey Kasem to call in to for a “long distance dedication. (The first such “America’s Top 40” long distance dedication happened in 1978 – sent from a lonely soldier to a loved one overseas, no less.)

So how do you use popular music to convey your love? Trying the John Cusack “Say Anything” move — holding a boombox outside her window and blasting a romantic tune — isn’t really an option, as the 1940-ish RCA radio is pretty darned heavy and needs a super-long extension cord.

Instead, you compile the very collection of 78 RPM records that I found in the bargain bin a few weeks ago at my local Goodwill Store, with each heavy platter of shellac cued up in order to send a very specific message of love.

I have no idea about the real backstory of this “Record Album” that I picked up for $8, but I like to think it’s very first mixtape ever made. By our smitten soldier boy.

Google tells me the “most recent” song from this well-cared-for collection is from 1949.

If you read my book about the power of mixtapes – and I hope you did! – you’ll remember how I explained the timeless alure of mixtapes:

“They were the perfect mechanism for saying everything you couldn’t say yourself—what the much-loved English band Squeeze called a ‘stereogram.’ You could make whatever flavor of mixtape you needed to make at that moment in life: the ‘sad breakup’ tape, the ‘angry breakup’ tape, the ‘I think you’re cool and want you to think I am, too,’ tape…Some nights, pretending to sleep in the too-small-for three brothers-so-we-had-a-trundle-bed bedroom (which very much smelled like teen spirit), I would watch and listen while (my late brother) JB crafted mixtapes for friends or lovers. He’d often take three hours to curate a 90-minute tape with the perfect balance of fast-slow-fast-slow songs, carefully choosing tracks from his LPs and his 45s to stitch together the perfect mix for some lucky recipient. And while he always muted the speakers and wore headphones to avoid incurring the wrath of Mom, I could still hear the music leaking out.

‘Love My Way,’ Psychedelic Furs. 

‘New Toy,’ Lene Lovich.  

‘The Love Cats,’ The Cure.

‘Never Say Never,’ Romeo Void. 

You know. Those songs.“

Whoever this 1949 guy was, he had the same idea.

The same objectives.

Here are the songs – his songs — in the order in which I found them stored in the 80-ish year-old collection at the Goodwill:

“Track 1”

I’d Love To Call You My Sweetheart: Dick Haynes and Andrew Sisters

The Message: He’s laying his cards on the table immediately. There is zero chill here. Within thirty seconds of pressing play, she knows he wants to be more than friends. It’s bold, it’s earnest, and it sets a high-pressure tone for side one.

“Track 2”

Blue Skirt Waltz: Frankie Yankovic and his Yanks with the Marlin Sisters

The Message: Right after a smooth vocal harmony, he abruptly pivots to high-energy Midwestern polka music. What is he trying to say? “Sure, I want to be your sweetheart, but are you ready to aggressively spin around a crowded gymnasium floor until we both pass out?” It’s a loyalty test disguised as accordion music.

“Track 3”
Texarkana Baby, Eddy Arnold, The Tennessee Plowboy

The Message: He realizes the polka might have been a bit much, so he swerves hard into rugged cowboy territory. He wants her to think he’s a rugged, guitar-strumming romantic who spends his evenings under the Texas stars—even though they both live in New Jersey.

“Track 4”

Lovely Hula Hands, Dorothy Lamour with Dick McIntire and his Harmony Hawaiians

The Message: Mid-compilation, he panics. He realizes he’s coming on too strong and getting entirely too dusty with the country-western stuff. Suddenly, he blasts her with escapist Hawaiian exotica. The subtext here is pure teenage desperation: “Forget the snow, forget the polka, let’s run away to a tiki bar in Waikiki where nobody can judge our life choices.”  At the same time, he’s signaling the trauma from his time fighting in the Pacific.

“Track 5”

Where the Blue of the Night Meets the Gold of the Day, Bing Crosby with the Island Trio

The Message: He brings out the big gun — Bing Crosby. This is his anchor. When in doubt, default to Bing’s comforting baritone to prove he does, in fact, have good taste and isn’t just shuffling radio hits at random. It’s the sonic equivalent of a gentlemanly tip of the fedora.

“Track 6”

Sunflower, Ray McKinley and his Orchestra

The Message: He ends on a bright, chipper, whistling-style upbeat tune. He’s leaving her with a smile, hoping she’ll overlook the fact that track one was a direct marriage proposal.

So.

Did he get the girl?