A sequel to #167: Top Five Albums That Got Us In Shit At The Record Store
and #27: Store Play
RECORD STORE TALES #1172: Top 5 Storeplay CDs – A Personal List
Let it be said: The Beat Goes On had a lot of rules about what could and couldn’t be played in store. You couldn’t scare off Grandma, shopping for the new NSync CD for the grandkid. Therefore, Metallica’s Black Album was banned from store play. Musicals, classical, and a large chunk of rap (language!) was banned. Certain bands were banned outright: Kiss & Rush. (Tell me that wasn’t personal against me!) Therefore, any time I could break the rules when bosses were not around, I would try to get away with playing music that I actually liked.
Another rule stated that you must pick five CDs of different genres, put them in the changer, and hit shuffle. Me? I preferred listening to albums, not shuffles. But I was a good little employee 97% of the time. This story is about the other 3%.
Here is a list of my Top 5 CDs that I loved playing at the Beat Goes On, whether it was allowed or not.
Most definitely NOT allowed to be played in store! I didn’t care. The boss man was out of town one day in 1996, and I knew I wouldn’t be caught by anyone that mattered. Tom Morwood, who worked at our Waterloo store, popped in that afternoon to check out our jazz section. We had just opened a few months earlier. Upon hearing Holy Diver blasting from the speakers, Tom remarked: “Holy Diver? Wow. That’s ballsy man!”
I didn’t own Holy Diver yet and I was checking it out for myself. There was a lot to love, such as “Caught in the Middle” and “Don’t Talk to Strangers”. I also played The Last In Line around the same time, and loved “Egypt (The Chains Are On)”. It was a great way to discover classic music. Which, of course, wasn’t the point of working in a used music store and trying to sell CDs. “Nobody buys Dio,” reasoned the boss. In ’96, he wasn’t too far off. But I didn’t get caught. Tom wouldn’t rat me out.
4. BLUE RODEO – Just Like A Vacation
This 1999 double live album came out when I was running two stores at the same time. I was in charge of my own store on Fairway Road, but that summer I was also managing T-Rev’s store in Cambridge. He was off helping put a new franchise together in (I think) Ajax Ontario, and I wasn’t given much choice in the matter. I suppose it was a great compliment and a testament to management’s confidence in me, to give me two stores to run, but it sucked. I felt like I was in exile when I wasn’t at my own store.
When this was a new release, I listened to both discs in sequence. The acoustic balladeering and jams of Blue Rodeo really helped soothe that homesick feeling. It’s a fabulous album. In particular, the live version of “The Dimestore Greaser and the Blonde Mona Lisa” really hit.
Same location, back in exile, but a different summer. I discovered Marillion in 2000. I had heard some of the Fish era stuff, but not the Hogarth. This controversial album was on the shelves, so I put it in the player. Mark Kelly looked a little weird on the inside, with the designs painted on his bald head, but let’s give it a shot. By the end of the shift, I knew I was going to buy it. I put in on a shuffle with four other discs.
As soon as it came on, I said, “Ah this must be the new Marillion singer.” Steve Hogarth perked up my ears. Several songs jumped out immediately: “Cathedral Walls”, “Under the Sun” and “The Answering Machine” in particular.
While my bosses might have scolded me and said “Don’t play Marillion, you’re not going to sell any!” a decades long obsession began by playing it in store. So there you go. The balance sheet doesn’t reflect that kind of lifetime impact.
2. The Candidates – Meet The Candidates
This Cambridge band included bassist/vocalist Neil McDonald, who also worked at our Cambridge location. I genuinely loved this album he made with the Candidates. Many of the songs connected with me in a big way, such as “Barely Bruised”.
They didn’t love that I played this frequently in store. It was for sale, but it was unlikely that I would make a sale just by playing it. People liked buying CDs with bands and songs they already knew, generally. I was given a pass because, frankly Neil was favoured by management.
The reasons I played this in store so frequently are really simple. One, I genuinely loved and connected with this album. There are still songs, such as “Who’s Your Daddy Now?” that still connect with me. “Sold your soul for a photograph, I tore it up and had the last laugh.” I burned some bridges when I started Record Store Tales, and while I don’t know for sure that Neil was upset with me, I think it’s pretty likely. I’m sorry about that – I’ll always think fondly of him and this band.
The closest I came to a breaking point, before I finally quit the store, was when I was working (exiled) to a miserable location in Oakville Ontario. I have written extensively about this experience. The customers were generally snooty and holier than thou. A story about an asshole lawyer was a favourite with early readers of Record Store Tales.
The only good thing about Oakville was that I was working alone all day, and no bosses came there. It was like working in another province, such were the frequency of the visits from head office. The drive was really difficult and the mental health situation was not good.
And so, I played all five discs of the Kiss Box Set in sequence. Because fuck you, boss.
Best song exclusive to the box at the time: “Doncha Hesitate”, a classic sounding Kiss demo featuring all four original members, intended for Destroyer.
Had I been caught, I would have been given a boatload of trouble. But mental health is a thing too, and stuff like this helped keep me sane during a difficult few months managing two stores at once. I was pushed so close to the edge, that it was a matter of luck that I survived. And Kiss. And that’s not hyperbole. Playing the music I loved made the experience survivable, and that’s barely.
Thank you Kiss.
And that’s the list. I hope you enjoyed this trip down memory lane.
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