The One That Got Away

For many, there’s “the one that got away,” the one that leaves a person wondering, “if only … .”

Maybe we weren’t ready. We weren’t mature enough.

Sometimes, we just made a foolish mistake. We wish we could take it back, but it just wasn’t meant to be — a lesson we had to learn in order to be where we’re at now.

Maybe we’re grasping the notion the grass is indeed greener on the other side, coveting what we don’t have instead of appreciating what we do.

And why not? There’s something so alluring, so enticing about the unexplored, the unknown.

I recall vividly the last time I saw the one that got away.

It was in the vinyl section of a now-defunct Media Play store.

Oh, what a site! Radiant, stunning and impossible to miss, a true head-turner.

What glorious grooves! What rich and enticing sound! What a cool record cover!

C’mon, now.

You had to guess this wasn’t about any woman.

Sadly, the vinyl printing of Dave Matthews Band’s Before These Crowded Streets has eluded me for nearly a decade. Considering the album turns 10 Monday, it seems like a good time to mention it.

I decided not to buy it that day in 1998. I don’t know what I picked up instead.  And I’ve never seen the vinyl printing since.

That sounds like a long time, but the wound is still fresh. When I look back at years records I should’ve bought when I had the chance, that’s the one that stands out — the one that got away.

What makes BTCS precious is it’s the only record the band has issued in vinyl and it’s out of print. Well, that and I’m one of those freaks who travels the globe to see the band’s concerts and has downloaded hundreds more, so having it would only further prove my fandom. Or insanity — after stating I was going to attend every show in a four-night stand at Colorado’s Red Rocks Amphitheatre, my friend, Kristen, told me, “Nick, the cheese has slid off your cracker.”

Going to every show in a four-night stand or owning a rare vinyl symbolizes a certain level of fanaticism. To have the BTCS record would be just short of the DMB collectors holy grail — only the “Pumpkin Recently,” an ultra-rare edition of an EP with a different cover, could outshine gramophone-style DMB.

Aside from what having it would say about me as a fan, it also serves as a reminder of the band’s development and history. BTCS cemented the Charlottesville, Va., quintet as a mainstream mainstay. They had hits before, but never a No. 1 album; the record dethroned the Titanic soundtrack after 16 weeks in the top spot, giving Celine Dion more reason to whimper about how her heart would go on and on. Dave Matthews Band had already arrived, but the success of BTCS solidified their place as one of the most beloved acts of the ’90s.

But BTCS marked the end of an era, too. After three straight turns in the control room, Steve Lillywhite wouldn’t successfully produce another of the band’s albums. The 2000s have brought Everyday and Stand Up, albums ill-received among the group’s diehards because of their sleek production and hasty songwriting. Contrarily, those records furthered their popularity and ushered in a new set of fans — “The Space Between” proved to be the band’s best-charting single to date.

For DMB fans of any era, though, BTCS holds a treasured place. And why not? There’s the short, between-songs segue jams. The band shows its technical chops — simply check out the time signatures shifting throughout “Rapunzel.” Many moods color the emotional palette — political (“Don’t Drink the Water”), carefree (“Stay”), mournful (“The Dreaming Tree”), remorseful (“The Stone”) and sexually suggestive (“Rapunzel, “Crush”).

This list wouldn’t be complete without fan-favorite “Halloween,” a howling rejection song. Coveted for its infrequent live performance and raw emotion, it’s almost as rare as ... well ... finding a copy of BTCS on vinyl.

Ugh. Even writing that drudges up the painful reminder of how sad it is, even 10 years later, to think about the one that got away.

Coming Friday: 'Where Are You Going: DMB since BTCS'