An expansion upon #579:  Entering the Asylum

 

RECORD STORE TALES #1043: Music From the Elder – Winter 1986

As much as we teased him, and as much as he may have deserved it, George Balazs was something of the elder statesman of music on our street.  An awkward kid with big glasses, big hair, and knobby knees, George was an outcast from every group.  Yet, George was passionate about music to a degree that pushed the rest of us further in as well.

George fancied himself a bass player, and Gene Simmons was his idol.  He posed like Gene, he sang like Gene, and just really wanted to be Simmons.  He surely gave it a shot, but to most of us, he was a joke.  An awkward, porn-obsessed older kid who dressed in the full metal regalia with studded wristbands and bandannas.  What he did have going for him was a pretty good record collection.

I don’t know where he got the money, working at Long John Silver’s down the street, but George always had a steady stream of new records coming in.  Sam the Record Man, Dr. Disc, or Encore Records was his supplier.  George always had a hustle going on, selling old comic boys or toys.  He always felt like he was making money, even though he was buying the comics at retail price and selling them for half that.  I got my entire GI Joe collection from him that way.  George was acquiring complete collections of Iron Maiden, Judas Priest and Lee Aaron vinyl.  Kiss was nearly complete:  By the start of 1986 he finally acquired Kiss Killers, and only needed Double Platinum and The Elder.

George always made it well known how good his Kiss collection was.  We all knew what he needed.  He made sure that was publicly known.

Meanwhile, I was in grade eight, a miserable year of fake friends and emboldened bullies.  There was a newer kid in class, named Joe Ciaccia (pronounced “chee-chaw”).  In casual conversation, Joe boasted that he already had a complete Kiss collection.  I suspected he was lying to impress me, but I pressed him on it.  If his was complete, maybe he’d sell his copy of The Elder to George.  I was being selfless here.  Even though I had started getting Kiss albums myself, I was thinking only of George.  I knew George would allow me to record it, once acquired.

I informed George that I knew someone who had The Elder, and George nearly leaped out of his shoes.

“WHO?” he asked.

“Joe Ciccia, this kid at school.  He says he has all the Kiss albums.”

“Bullshit,” said George.  “There hasn’t been a copy of The Elder for sale in this town in two years.”

“Well he says he has it,” I insisted.  I was instructed to broker a trade, and so I did.

On a slushy Sunday afternoon in the dead of winter, I loaded up my Sanyo ghetto blaster with batteries and my Kiss Asylum tape.  With Bob Schipper and George Balazs, we trudged off in the snow, blasting “King of the Mountain”.  I can still remember holding that stereo as steady as I could, while Eric Carr pounded out the drum intro.  Asylum was their newest album, and my copy was only a few months old.

George was adamant that we were going to Joe Ciccia’s place, and not leaving without The Elder.  The address and time were set up.  “I don’t care what he wants for it, I’m not leaving without that record.”  The Elder was all but legendary.  None of us had heard any of the music, except George, who had seen the music video for “A World Without Heroes” once.  He loved the song.  He could not wait to get that record in his hands and on his platter!  No matter the cost.

It wasn’t a long walk, it just took forever with that slush all over the ground.  It was a wet, dark Canadian winter day, and we were on a mission.

Joe lived on Breckenridge Drive, the same street as Brian Vollmer and Ian Johnson.  Joe was about to inherit a certain crown from Ian – the king of lies.

We arrived at Joe’s apartment and buzzed.  No answer.  Buzzed again.  No answer.  It became clear that, as I had suspected.  Joe was all talk and no Elder.  We waited outside in the cold a while, but there was no sign of Joe.  We were at the right place at the expected time, but Joe was hiding.  As expected, George was partly crushed and mostly pissed off.  Joe dodged me at school the next day.  George kept pestering me to arrange a second hookup with Joe, thinking he still had that copy of The Elder that he wanted so badly.  I realized Joe was full of shit and told George my unfortunate opinion.  The record was not there, period.  Joe was telling stories, trying to act cool and impress me at school.  Then he got caught in the lie, not realizing that George was going to go apeshit and do whatever he had to do to get this record, and he hid.  This was after going so far as to arrange a trade and giving me the address.  He really went all the way before his lie could take him no further.

George did get a copy of The Elder a  short time later, and he still taped me a copy.  It was a strange album to me, with a lot of music that didn’t sound like rock, but I liked it because it was Kiss.  Songs like “The Oath”, “I” and “Odyssey” were immediately appealing.

What happened to Joe?  He was one of the first kids to have a girlfriend at school.  I seem to remember it being quite scandalous for our little Catholic school.  He was making out with Sharon Burns, a girl we’d known since Kindergarten.  Then we graduated and I never saw him again.

When I think of Joe I’ll always remember him for two things:  the colossal Kiss lie, and making out with Sharon on a religious retreat at Mount Mary.  Things you just never forget.