Oh, the boss is coming! You better look busy, They’re not paying you for nothing!
— ARKELLS
If there’s time to lean, There’s time to clean.
— THE BOSS AT THE RECORD STORE “The Beat Goes On”
They used to call it “fucking the dog”. I don’t know what vernacular the youth of today use, but that’s what we used to call slacking off on the job: dog fucking.
I have known some expert dog fuckers in my day. I know one guy who had taken it to a fine art. I won’t tell you any details about this fine young man, except to say he was a maestro of dog fucking. He was the Bach, the Beethoven, of slacking off on the job. Let’s call him Smart Guy. He truly was a smart guy, which is one reason he was able to get so much paid free time at work. He was no dummy. But man, he had a system!
Smart Guy had a different boss from me. Everyone liked him. He was pretty grounded for a guy who was destined for big things. He worked in a small room, with a friend of mine. Because of this, I heard things and that’s why I can tell this story.
I learned from Smart Guy that Honda Civics were very popular with his age group because they were easy to customize. I had no interest in this, but I took interest for the sake of conversation. I’d stroll into their room, and Smart Guy would be on eBay looking for Civic parts. Maybe a fender, maybe hubcabs, maybe a spoiler, I don’t know. He was always shopping for car parts.
He was also very tech-savvy. For example he figured out how to send coded messages to my printer, in an effort to freak me out. He was also very playful. He printed out numerous pictures of clowns and hid them all over his room. Sort of a calling card for after he left. I had to find all those clowns when he eventually did move on to bigger things!
So how did he get away with it? By being a fast, efficient worker, and always having one project complete at all times — just not handed in.
So, if his boss walked in and he was fucking the dog, he’d just hand him a completed piece of work. “I’m all done this project, here you go!”
“Oh, thanks Smart Guy! Great. OK, I’ll leave you to your work.”
My time in music retail was relatively long, considering how taxing on the soul it can be buying used music from the public on the wrong side of town. I started in July of 1994, in a small store in a small mall in Kitchener, Ontario, called The Beat Goes On. We sold some used, some new. In 1996, I began managing a new store that was a slightly different format: 95% used, with a small Top 40 chart of new CDs. I stayed there until early 2006. 12 years total, with 10 in management. Over those 12 years, I witnessed so many changes to the way we did business. Join me for a journey through time.
Ah, 1994. I had just start dating a new girlfriend. Motley Crue had come out with their John Corabi album, which was easily my favourite disc of the year. I wore cowboy boots to my job interview with the boss man at the Record Store. I was hired and nervously stepped behind the counter and did my first transactions.
We had a huge cash register, and still took cheques. Credit cards were processed with one of those imprint machines that made the satisfying CHK-CHK sound when you imprinted the card. Then began a long process of writing in dollar amounts and getting a signature. Today, one tap and you’re done! When we got a debit machine, it used the same phone line as the actual store phone. When someone called the store, it would interrupt your debit transaction if you had one going. You usually ended up with two impatient customers that way: one on the phone and one in front of you!
Our stock was part CD and part cassette, but tapes were on their way out and we only bought and sold used CDs. The reasoning was it was easier to check a CD for quality visually, looking for scratches. We carried only those two formats, until one day in November 1994. Pearl Jam came out with Vitalogy in 1994 on vinyl, two weeks before its cassette and CD releases. The first vinyl I ever sold. We only stocked five copies because nobody was buying vinyl back then. We probably should have stocked 15 or 20, because we were surprised with demand. People who didn’t even own a turntable wanted it for its collector’s value and larger artwork.
Boyz II Men were big. TLC were bigger. Soundgarden and Nirvana were dominating the rock charts. My kind of music wasn’t popular and wasn’t encouraged to be played in store.
Tastes changed rather quickly for some of these bands. Boyz II Men made their way into the bargain. Thence came Puff Daddy, Mase, and of course the posthumous albums by 2pac Shakur and the Notorious B.I.G. On the rock side, upstarts like Korn, Limp Bizkit, Creed and eventually Nickleback replaced Nirvana, Soundgarden and Alice in Chains on our charts. And then came Crazy Town, and by then, it felt like there was no coming back. Rock was a cartoon. A “fuck”-laden filthy cartoon.
The job behind the counter became easier. By 1996, our inventory was computerized. Cassettes were gone; it was 100% CD. You could look everything up with a simple search. Before, I had to physically search the shelves to see if we had inventory. Of course, we soon learned that just because something pops up on the computer as in-stock, that actually means nothing. Human error was a huge problem and I was as guilty as everyone else, if not more so! Putting the wrong disc in a CD case upon sale was so easy to do. Not every customer realized they bought something with the wrong CD inside, and we didn’t always get them returned. We ended up with many missing or mis-matched CDs, and also missing cases due to mis-filing or theft.
Soon customers wanted to look things up on computer terminals by themselves. They also wanted to see what our other stores had in stock, as the we franchised out and grew. These complicated problems were eventually solved with a little thing called the World Wide Web.
Having internet access at the store in the year 1999 was unimaginable to me of 1994, who had never even been on the internet yet.
Of course, the advent of the internet brought with it an unforeseen danger. Soon our very existence would be threatened. No, I’m not talking about computer viruses or Y2k. Those had little impact at all. Something else did: Napster.
Napster changed everything. Soon we were carrying so much more than just music, to make up for the decline in sales. Bobble heads, action figures, books, video games, headphones, and so so so so many CD wallets. Sometimes the toys and action figures wouldn’t have anything to do with music, like the Muppets or the Simpsons. (Those were carried because a certain regional manager personally liked those shows.) Osbournes merch was popular. Kiss had many different toy options available. Metallica had a cool stage playset. Macfarlane figures either sold out, or sat around forever. We stopped carrying blank tapes, but had a variety of CD-Rs available instead.
I recall the boss resisted carrying CD-Rs for a while, because he thought it was counterproductive to our business of selling music on CD. However eventually it became a case of a dam giving way to a flood. It was “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” and blank CDs were now being sold by brick or spindle. Remember bricks and spindles full of blank CDs?
We also sold CD cleaning kits and tended to stay away from snake-oil CD fixing “solutions”. Instead, we had a couple of guys who fixed CDs with a grinder and wax in their garage. Eventually we began fixing the discs ourselves using the same method, but actually improving upon the solution by using soap instead of wax. I’m not sure how the original guys took that, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t pretty at all.
Competition was always fierce. We had an HMV store at the mall across the street from the store I managed. We had a Cash Converters pawn shop buying and selling CDs and video games in the same plaza as us. A few years later, a Best Buy opened next door, and their prices were often lower. DVDs began to take up a huge share of our sales, and we now had to make room. Additional shelving was installed. Then we ran out of space again. New formats like SACD and DVD-A started to infiltrate our inventory. Things became really, really complicated compared to the store I managed in 1996.
There are a million stories. I remember one guy buying an SACD, and coming back wanting to know why the “Super Audio” light wasn’t lighting up on his player. How the fuck should I know? I’d never even seen an SACD player at that point. The guy actually wanted me to write a letter to Sony and ask them on his behalf. Yeah, I’ll get right on that sir, after I serve you some fresh Grey Poupon on a charcuterie board.
Technology, transactions and inventory may have changed shape, but one thing never did: the customers.
When we first opened, we had a single disc CD player and tape deck to play music in store. There was a TV for MuchMusic, but it was usually on silent while we played CDs in store. If a customer wanted to hear a CD, we had to open it for them and play it on the store speakers. They’d signal me when to change tracks. In 1996, we have six five-disc changers, each with a dedicated set of headphones, for customers to list. We had another five-disc changer for store play, and eventually one for an outdoor speaker we had. The six customer listening stations took a dedicated person to serve on weekends. We had to retrieve the CDs from behind the counters and load them into the players. We often had to assist the customer in the operation of the machines. And they broke down, frequently. Some days towards the end we only had two working stations at a time.
Our first store was in a mall with a licensed restaurant. We had a few drunks. The other stores I worked at were in strip plazas. We had a few stoners, potheads, crackheads and gang-bangers.
Ahh, the good old days when it was just drunks!
One thing we never delved into in my time was selling CD players. We didn’t want to dip our toes into that kind of thing. Today, they sell turntables at my old store. We also, strangely, never sold batteries which people frequently asked for. I guess margins were so low it wasn’t worth it. I never lasted long enough to see the vinyl revival happen. We only sold a few things on vinyl in time. The aforementioned Pearl Jam was one. Soundgarden (Down on the Upside) was another.
The change that impacted me most had nothing to do with formats, or technology. It didn’t matter that I now had two shelves full of Sega and Nintendo games. The biggest change was in heirarchy behind the scenes. I started as a part timer with one boss. I was promoted to manager, with one boss, and several peers at other stores. Then, suddenly, I had two bosses. Then there were three, and the worst thing about the third is that we were all told “they’re not your boss, they’re here to help.” That was false. Three bosses, and there was now an in-house accountant and other periphery people that seemed to get yelled at less than I did. I’m sure it’s clear from this story that the winds of change did not bring me happiness. Instead they chipped away at the job I started with, and diluted the “music store” I managed into a music/movie/game/knick-knack store. I was attending manager meetings in big hotel board rooms. There were marketing people and franchisees, and nobody ever seemed truly happy on the inside. 110% was demanded of us, but we had no reason to be invested in what boiled down to a bad retail job that caused a lot of stress.
Nothing lasts forever but the certainty of change, and there was one change I was happy to witness: In the late 90s, Black Sabbath reunited. It was a happy return, though they had their trailer hitched to a nu-metal Ozzfest which wasn’t my cup of tea. Music began to shift until one day in 1999, something truly remarkable happened. We didn’t know how long it would last, or what the new music would sound like, but Iron Maiden reunited with Bruce Dickinson and Adrian Smith. Judas Priest were a few years behind them, getting Rob Halford back in the band. Suddenly, classic metal was back in a big way. Bigger than ever. It was not waned since. I was happy that I got to see this process begin at the end of my days at the Store.
My boss used to say that I resisted change. I don’t agree. No sir. I embraced the good stuff. The computers, the internet, the website, fixing CDs, the abandonment of certain formats (cassettes and VHS) when they were fading away. The things I struggled with included the diluting of the store with all these other products like video games. I started there because I loved music. Fortunately I also loved movies, so when DVDs began to take over a large section of the store, I was cool with that too. When Grand Theft Auto was upon us, I had no passion. Then came the addition of more upper management, and increased demands on our personal time and investment in the Record Store life. Monthly manager meetings dragged on for hours. We’d leave scratching our heads why this wasn’t just covered in emails. We had zero autonomy and little say in what we did. I remembered a time when I loved my job. There was no love there anymore.
The happy ending is this. When I quit that job, I rediscovered my passion for music. Music was fun for me again, not just something playing in the background as I worked.
RECORD STORE TALES #1114: Music Groups / Party Poopers
They say it’s not about size, but I do have a pretty big music collection. I guesstimate at around 6000 CDs at present. Because my goal in collecting music is to acquire physical copies of “all the official tracks” by the bands I like, I do have a lot of rare discs in my collection. Primarily, Japanese imports with bonus tracks. I don’t go out of my way to buy multiple copies on multiple formats (though I still do) and I don’t shell out big bucks for anything if I already have all the tunes. I don’t buy cassette reissues, I don’t worry about vinyl variants. I just want a physical copy of “all the official tracks”, be they remixes, live, or whatever.
Because I have so many rare CDs, twice in 2022, Tim Durling asked me to guest on his show Tim’s Vinyl Confessions. We did two episodes on rare CDs (#351 and #390). I showed off a number of my imports, but because my music is so scattered around the house (a whole other story), I missed a few. Some I didn’t even think of. I mean, I could have grabbed every Japanese import in my house, but instead I grabbed a few dozen of the closest ones with obi strip intact. They just look cooler that way.
Fast forward a year to summer of 2023. While relaxing one Saturday afternoon at the cottage, I was ambushed by Tim and John the Music Nut, as they tried to coerce me into buying some Y&T CDs. Their methods worked, and I ordered Black Tiger, UnEarthed Vol. 1, and the DVD On With the Show. However, Tim was flabbergasted when the subject of “Go For the Throat” came up. “You need the 2006 reissue of In Rock We Trust,” cautioned Tim, “because, aside from the Hear N’ Aid CD, it’s the only place you can get that track on CD.”
“I have Hear N’ Aid on CD,” I responded.
“WHAT?” Tim was absolutely floored, flabbergasted, and perhaps a little betrayed that I had never brought this fact up before.
Hear N’ Aid, of course, was a project produced by Ronnie James Dio in 1986 to raise funds for famine relief in Africa. It was released on cassette and LP, with a 7″ and 12″ single too. There was a documentary on VHS, and sources report there was even a very rare CD single in Japan (found on a Japanese music auction site). In 1986, there was no compact disc release.
This changed in 1994 when a limited Japanese CD was released overseas. It was deleted again shortly after.
“Mike…that has to be one of the rarest CDs you own! Why didn’t you show it off on my show when we did rare CDs?”
The Music Nut concurred that it was very hard to find on CD. It didn’t occur to me. I acquired it for about $15 many years before, from “Gum Chewin’ Conrad”, a customer of mine at the Record Store who always sold Japanese imports (no obi, unfortunately). I also had a cassette (in a Thunder Bay landfill now) and vinyl, but the CD was the only thing they cared about. A few days later I posted about it on Facebook, and Reed Little from the Contrarians immediately jumped into the comments, remarking on my rare treasure.
There must be some issue with record labels and estates, considering the artists involved. The Hendrix estate is already a tangled affair, and there was a Jimi song on the album (“Can You See Me”). The album also contains rare live Kiss, Scorpions, Accept, Dio, Rush and Motorhead. The song “Stars” recorded by the supergroup Hear N’ Aid, had members of Motley Crue, Dokken, Journey, Dio, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest, Quiet Riot, Twisted Sister, Blue Oyster Cult, Queensryche, Night Ranger, W.A.S.P., Y&T, and solo artists such as Ted Nugent and Yngwie J. Malmsteen. Even Spinal Tap were involved. You can imagine, this must be why Wendy Dio has struggled so long trying to reissue the album.
In recent months, I began dipping my toes into the murky world of Facebook discussion groups. The best, by far, is Jamie Laszlo’s Let’s Get Physical. I enjoy the Rock Candy Magazine group. I also joined a couple Facebook CD collector groups. The experience was, to say the least, mixed.
I discovered one property that I will declare as an axiom: there is always a party pooper in any Facebook music discussion group.
Disclaimer: When I collect, I don’t care so much about value. I care how much I spend for music I want, but not resale value. I am also not an audiophile and tend not to get along well with diehard audiophiles.
I decided to post my Hear N’ Aid CD in the Rock Candy music group and see what the reaction was. My caption was “Some folks say this is the rarest CD that I own,” which is 100% true. Folks do say that.
There were over 500 reactions, and only two negative comments. Negative comments, sadly, are as constant as the north star.
“It’s not that rare,” said the first Negative Nancy. “There are copies on Discogs right now for as low as $50, and there are 17 copies available.”
Thanks. Go buy one, then.
The other Negative Nancy wasn’t happy with the sound quality on the CD. He complained there’s a low hum throughout the disc. He showed me some kind of graph. I told him I was very happy with my disc, and I enjoyed listening to the music and never noticed a hum. He told me I never really listened.
I get it, everybody wants to say their two cents. Most people were very cool and posted pictures from their own collections. From about 500 reactions, there were about 10 to 15 people who owned the album on CD. Most had vinyl, cassette, the single, or a VHS tape.
I left one CD collector group immediately, when all the comments were either focused on value or sound quality. I stayed in another group, despite two weird comments.
“Crappy pic…more disc, less face next time,” said one guy who couldn’t read the title and never heard of the zoom feature.
“This CD is mastered from the LP,” said another guy who had no evidence for his claim. “Wendy Dio doesn’t own the masters and the reissue will also be taken from vinyl,” he insisted.
Weird folks in some of those music groups, I’ll tell you. The audiophiles reminded me of dealing with those types in my Record Store days. Guys who could hear things I never could, and get angry because I couldn’t. Music collectors are by and large an amicable group of nerds, but there’s always one or two ready to rain on your parade.
By and large, 1998 was a pretty good year for me. There was a lot going on musically with new albums by Iron Maiden and Van Halen (long awaited) coming out. In January I moved in with T-Rev, into this little basement apartment. It was a cool hang. We both managed record stores, and the apartment was right near mine. T-Rev had this “comfy couch” that was like kryptonite. You couldn’t help but surrender to the comfy couch. There were Christmas lights up all year round, and beaded entranceways. Movie posters adorned virtually every wall. He sought to make a place where gals and guys alike would want to come over and hang out. We were both single.
I had my fully loaded Nintendo 64 and a handful of great games like Goldeneye and Top Gear Rally. Our place was the place to be on a Friday night. It was frustrating when T-Rev’s skills exceeded mine in both games, but that’s how it went down! He was really, really good. He was working at finishing both games, I was lucky to have made it as far as I did. Friends of all kinds liked Nintendo 64 night on the comfy couch. Trevor usually had beer and a bag of chips.
Some time in May that year was a typical gathering at the T-Rev residence. The place was packed with people he worked with at the Waterloo Inn, including the woman that he would one day marry and is still his wife today! There was a girl that I was interested in but didn’t return the sentiment, and another girl who had a thing for me but was unreciprocated. I think the movie they chose to watch that night was Kama Sutra. I wasn’t into it, and on that night I felt like a third wheel (or ninth wheel perhaps).
I was never very good at talking to girls and today I wonder if I have some kind of actual mental malfunction. T-Rev would try to help me. “Don’t quote movies man,” he advised me. “Nobody gets it when you quote movies.” I guess my hope was that one day, somebody would get it, and I’d meet a new soul mate. However I tried to stick to Trevor’s advice and not quote Pulp Fiction lines at girls, hoping they too were fans of Samuel L. Jackson.
I seem to remember hurting my neck while washing my hair in the shower before the party, which was a common weakness of mine. The girl that was interested in me gave me a neck rub, but it didn’t feel good at all. I wasn’t able to relax. I may have two separate parties mixed up here – Kama Sutra and hurting my neck might not have been the same night – but these are the memories coming back about that basement apartment. One way or the other, at some time in the evening on May, I was feeling disconnected from everyone else. It was one of those times where I felt alone in a crowded room. I was lonely sitting there in that apartment with my thoughts, apart from the conversations surrounding me. I wanted some fresh air, and maybe also some company.
“Anyone wanna go for a walk? Anyone? No?”
Everyone was content to stay in. I put on my shoes and stepped out into the darkness of early evening.
We lived very close to Stanley Park Mall, which in turn is close to my old stomping grounds at St. Daniel School. In the winter time, the large hill behind the school was popular for tobogganing. In spring, I thought it might be a good place to catch a good view at the stars and surrounding city. And so, I crossed River Road, and wandered through the mall parking lot. Though it is all built over now, once upon a time just an empty field separated the mall parking lot and the hill.
The hill! That green, steep hill! Looking at it today, it seems so small but back then it seemed a mountain! Perhaps the pitter-patter of children has been flattening it over the decades, but then it seemed as tall as the sky. Located in Midland Park behind the school, it was home to so many childhood adventures. Technically it was not on school property and sometimes the teachers would get fed up with the kids, and ban the hill from recess activities. But what fun we had when it was allowed! Running up that hill, running down, imagining if we caught enough air we could take off and fly!
What would I find on that hill on this night in 1998? The view would be good at least, I was certain. There it was in front of me, and so I took off running up just as I did as a little kid! I may have been alone, but I smiled in glee as I flashed back to the golden carefree years.
Whew…running uphill wasn’t as easy at age 25 as it was at age 10! But up I went, and upon reaching the summit in that pitch black, I leapt upwards and landed on the bald, grass-free patch at the very top.
“HEY! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?” came a startled voice from the darkness.
Apparently, I had interrupted a couple in the middle of coitus! Let’s just say they must have been having a bangin’ good time.
What could I do? Without a word I just kept running down the opposite side! As if to say “I meant to do that,” Pee-Wee Herman style, I just kept running.
I eventually made my way around the block, and back to the basement apartment. That was enough walking for one night. When I returned and told my story, everyone laughed and the general consensus was that I should have expected it! I suppose they were right; that spot did have a reputation for make-out central for the teenagers in the early 80s.
That’s what I found when I went running up that hill. The lesson learned: never run uphill at night!
RECORD STORE TALES #1112: Comfort Albums (ft. Peter Kerr)
Pulling into the driveway, you breath a sigh of relief after a long day at the grind. Walking in the front door, removing your shoes, you begin to feel human once again. Nobody is home and the place is yours. After a stressful day like today, no more TV or news would help you relax. You set about preparing dinner, and select some new albums to listen to. More recent music, relatively speaking Comfort albums. Albums that feel like an old slipper, that remind you of a past era. Familiar sounding music that just isn’t made this way anymore. What do you choose?
I have a few records that fit this bill for me. The latest is Invincible Shield by Judas Priest. It is remarkable that this band have had such highs and lows, but still manage to put out a career-high record 50 years after their debut. There are throwbacks a-plenty, of very high quality. Some riffs or choruses bring you back to the 80s and Defenders of the Faith. Several sound of the Painkiller era, particularly because of Scott Travis’ double bass. Others pulls back to the 70s and Hell Bent for Leather. Though the modern production and vocals of Rob Halford keep the album in the present, it otherwise sounds akin to the records I love so much from my youth. They are of the same blood.
It takes a lot for new music to get my blood pumping the way my old favourites do. When I play Invincible Shield, I’m 15 or 16 years old again, excited for this new album and rooting for my heavy metal heroes on a job well done. It’s a comfort album. The warm air of nostalgia blows through my window as another amazing outro guitar solo fades into silence. I half expect to have to get up and flip the tape soon, so far back am I taken.
Peter Kerr of Rock Daydream Nation, who suggested this topic, had his own example.
“Black Ice,” he said. “AC/DC did not put an album out for eight years. “I bought it, and played the first track ‘Rock ‘n’ Roll Train’. It was like a comfort album…big smile on the face!”
Indeed, I remember hearing that song on the radio myself and just being happy to hear a new song that sounded like AC/DC. Perhaps once upon a time, new AC/DC music was just expected regularly, like your tax bills. Then there came a time when we had to cherish a new AC/DC album. Black Ice was the first one where I felt like, “Let’s savour this one this time.”
Another album that had that comforting effect, but not because it’s by a heritage band, is 2022’s Impera by Ghost. Now here is a band that loves throwbacks, but are not content to stick to any particular style or direction. Listening to the Ghost discography was like rapidly traveling forward in time, until Impera seemingly brought us to the year 1987.
Impera is one of my favourite albums to play on my way home from work. With the sun sometimes right in my eyeline and impatient drivers zooming from lane to lane, the commute home is best assuaged by good music that helps me decompress. “Spillways”, “Watcher in the Sky” and “Griftwood” are the three that specifically warm me like a favourite blanket on a cold day. They simply don’t make music like this very often anymore. Oh sure, lots of bands try to do that “80s thing” but few can really trick your brain into thinking you went back in time. Ghost do it, and they do it frequently. Not just Impera, but also on Prequelle with songs like “Danse Macabre”. The single “Kiss the Go-Goat” sounds like something from 1970 and might have a similar effect on someone from that era.
You feel the strain leave your body as you tap your feet to the song. Comfort music often gets you to move. I can’t help but play air guitar or air drums to real comfort music. That’s just good, healthy activity! I’m speaking about a certain age group here, but as it gets continually more effortful to get up and rock a bit, music like this becomes more and and more precious.
Here I am, as my back aches and my right shoulder reminds me it’s healing from injury, and I’m playing vigorous air guitar to the lively “Fight of Your Life” by Judas Priest. I cannot throw shapes like I did in my bedroom at age 15, but I do OK, and it feels alright. Until my elbow says “no more” and my knees falter!
The music feels good. You can use any number of words: nostalgic, warm, energising, recapturing…there is something unique about a true comfort album that just makes you say “Thank God this exists. I needed this, to make me feel this way. Thank you for the music!”
RECORD STORE TALES #1111: Every Copy I Have Ever Seen of This CD Was Flawed KISS: “Forever” CD single
Some stories, people just don’t believe! In my years at the Record Store, I encountered a number of anomalies. A Four Horsemen CD with Dwight Yoakam music on it? I witnessed it with my own eyes and ears. This actually isn’t an uncommon phenomenon. Mis-printed CDs happened occasionally. The wrong artwork would be printed on a CD, and it would get sent out in the wrong packaging and sold to an unsuspecting customer.
Far more common are CDs with audio flaws. Sometimes it’s noise, sometimes the audio drops out. Even the glorious Judas Priest 50 Heavy Metal Years of Music box set sadly has audio flaws, on a very very expensive item. Frustratingly, it’s on one of the songs exclusive to the set. There is a jump the in audio during “Diamonds & Rust” on the 2nd CD of Beyond Live & Rare. Priest have never corrected this or sent out new discs to people who bought it.
However, there is one more common flaw in a CD single that nobody seems to know about. Whaddaya mean, every single copy of Kiss’ smash hit “Forever” single has a skip?
I worked 12 years at that used Record Store. In 12 years, I played every single copy of the “Forever” single to check, including the one I own. It happens, unfortunately, on the only non-album song: the remix of the title track!
It happens at roughly 1:40 of the song, right before the solo. The lyric should be “Until my life is through, girl I’ll be loving you forever…yeah!” In the CD single version, it goes “Until my…rrrr, yeah!” The remix clocks in as 3:48 on the single. In the Kiss box set, it is 3:50. Two seconds are missing.
It’s not a scratch on the CD (or every other copy of the CD). There is absolutely no visible flaw. The music was simply printed incorrectly. Perhaps the master copy had a skip? Who knows. It’s there. Hear it for yourself below! Here is the evidence.
RECORD STORE TALES #1110: Happy Winter Memories Vol. 3 – Rocking the Basement
To an unsporty Canadian kid, growing up in a cold climate had its disadvantages. I didn’t give a fuck about hockey (to coin a phrase from Gord Downie), and nobody likes to shovel. The only good thing about fall and winter to me were Christmas and the return of my TV shows, like the Transformers and GI Joe. Otherwise, it was like hibernation. There were a lot of things I wanted to do and could only do outdoors, so I passed the time inside with my music and shows.
In a sense, winter was the best time for my friendship with Bob Schipper to flourish. In the summer we’d be outside a lot, riding bikes or hitting balls. Or, just getting into trouble as we often did. During the colder months, we spent more time being creative.
A typical Mike & Bob winter Saturday morning would go as follows:
Around 10 AM, Bob would pop by my place. Our creative Saturday mornings would usually happen at my house. Bob’s parents were more strict than mine, and we could listen to music in the basement. The basement was the best place because that is where the big TV with the VCR was. That was where MuchMusic lived. My VHS collection would grow video by video, week by week. The Pepsi Power hour ran twice a week (“Molten” Mondays, and Thursdays) and I would collect music, clip by clip, on my VHS collection. It would be my responsibility to show him what was new in music.
We did not always agree!
Savatage struck me from the moment I saw “Hall of the Mountain King”. It was the riff, the singer, and of course the little guy running through the caves looking for the king’s treasure. I had to record it. I thought Bob would really be into this song. It had a lot of what we both liked: nice, heavy melody metal with a screamin’ singer. Disappointingly, he was not as impressed as I was. He thought the video was less than great, and the singer not as impressive as I hyped him.
On the other hand, one viewing of “We Came to Rock” by Brighton Rock had him hooked immediately. In this case, singer Gerald McGhee really did blow him away. That scream at the end of “We Came to Rock” made his jaw actually drop.
If music videos were not on the menu that morning, I would bring my “ghetto blaster” downstairs and we would play whatever newest tape one of us had acquired. If it was a good one, we’d dub each other a copy.
Then, out came the paper and we would get down to creating. We were very much into drawing military vehicles, cars, and muscle-type men with warrior’s garb and jagged guitars. Our self-portraits were always masked, muscled, and flexing.
We would fantasise about being on stage. We’d picture the drum riser, and why not have it elevate? We would both be singers and guitar players, sharing lead duties from song to song. It had to be democratic. We came up with cool melodies and song titles. Mostly though, we sang our lyrics to other peoples’ songs. Of course, I can’t repeat the lyrics to anyone.
The two of us had enough creativity to power the world for decades. If only we had the technology to do the things we really wanted to do!
Still, it was in that basement during the coldest of months that Bob and I amassed binders full of drawings and cassette tapes full of our goof-offs. I kept everything I could. Of course, some things couldn’t last forever, such as the cardboard guitars or silly sketches. As unofficial archivist, I kept a lot. I have almost all my VHS tapes with those special music videos. When I play them, the memories return. These things matter to me. They show a snapshot of the best childhood anyone could have.
Friends, what would you do if you ordered a used CD from a small chain, only to find somebody defaced the artwork with black magic marker before sending to you? What if that defacement was specifically aimed at you?
My love of Marillion was known far and wide at the Record Store. Nobody else liked Marillion. I’d play them when I could, but everybody I worked with hated Marillion.
Everybody.
But I never found out who hated Marillion so much that they would ruin a CD just to tell me that “Marillion sucks”.
I wish I had taken a picture, but here’s the story. After I quit the Record Store and became a regular customer, I still received preferential treatment for a few months. They would often set stuff aside for me and call me asking if I wanted it. That was very cool of them. They didn’t have to do that. Other times, I received treatment that was simply unacceptable.
One day in 2006, a few months after quitting, I placed an online order for some used CDs. Free shipping, no fuss no muss. I found three discs I wanted. One of them, which I was buying just “for the collection” was Gene Simmons’ spoken word CD, Speaking in Tongues. I didn’t plan on playing it every day, but I did plan on cherishing it as part of my Kiss collection. Everyone at that store knew my favourite band in the world was Kiss. They all hated Kiss about as much as Marillion. That said, I ordered Speaking in Tongues and awaited the arrival of my mail.
Discs from my old store often arrived in broken cases; that was par for the course. They also often arrived more scratched than I liked, but I wasn’t going to be as picky about what I bought as I was when I worked there. What was unacceptable and tantamount to sabotage was what I saw when I got my Simmons disc.
Everything appeared fine. The case was cracked, the disc was a little scuffy, but it should play fine, right?
I never got that far.
After removing the disc from the case, I saw that someone wrote on the inside back cover “MARILLION SUCKS” in big, black indelible magic marker.
Hah, hah. Funny.
Who does that to someone they know is a collector? Who does that to someone they obviously knew personally, since they knew I loved Marillion?
I never found out. I complained and nobody ever told me. I returned the disc immediately, unplayed. I was really pissed off.
The fact that this happened at a Record Store that preached “professionalism” was absolutely shocking. I remember getting in shit for telling a customer I hated Radiohead when asked! Did this person get in shit for writing “MARILLION SUCKS” on my CD?
I wonder if anyone will ever own up and tell me who wrecked my Simmons CD. I doubt it.
Creative relationships are something I have always craved in my life. In these pages, we’ve shared the stories of the legendary Bob Schipper, my childhood friend with whom I created so many adventures, games, characters and art. Our media was written, it was drawn, it was recorded to audio and even video. Any way we could create, we did. We made music videos, documentary style videos, comic books, audio skits and so much more. When childhood came to its inevitable end, a hole in my life broke open. I had no creative partner anymore, and I still craved to express myself with someone. As many friends came into my life, I failed to find someone who wanted to sit down and write or record.
In 2023 I met a new friend named Jex Russell. We “officially” became friends on social media on February 5 2023. Even though there’s quite an age difference between us, we get along well and have great creative chemistry. Although distance defies us, we have managed to make some fun videos together, and have also collaborated with the written word. He reminds me a lot of Bob Schipper. Like Bob, we’ve invented some of our own gibberish.
Bob Schipper example: when we were kids, around 1983, Bob created a character named Ooja. Ooja was a monster we had to defeat. In our winter adventures, a giant snowbank worked as an Ooja monster we could pummel. That kept us going for an afternoon. I found out later on that the name Ooja was based on the Ouija board that Bob found in his basement. It once belonged to his older brother or sister. He didn’t know how it was pronounced, so he called it “Ooja”. That became a word for us to use.
Jex Russell example: upon our first works together, Jex began co-hosting episodes of Grab A Stack of Rock with me. On his first real co-hosting gig, he was on his way to his parents’ place to stream from their house that weekend. He sent me updates via videos of his travels that day. Passing theough Haute-Aboujagane, New Brunswick, I had a giggle at the name of the place. It sounded funny to me. I sent a message back to Jex: “What was that place called, Oojaboojagan or something??”
Jex found my mangling of Haute-Aboujagane to be funny in return, and suddenly, we had our own word: “Oojaboojagan”.
You may have heard us use this word before if you’ve been paying attention. Once again, I twisted it around and gave it a new meaning. I started calling Jex “my Oojaboojgan”, meaning “brother” or “friend”. Now, he’s my oojaboojagan. A creative partner that I value for friendship and the ability to collaborate with my scattershot mind.
Check Jex out at Jexcalibur.wordpress.com, and tell him that Oojaboojagan sent you! You’ll be seeing more of our creative uniqueness in 2024.
Regardless of some decent rare scores this weekend, I was very disappointed with the old Record Store I used to manage. I have an advantage here, since I know the rules and everything the staff should and should not have been doing. We ended up having to go twice. Here’s where they failed:
Nobody greeted us at the door (twice) – this was compulsory.
Nobody asked us if we wanted help (twice) – also compulsory.
Two guys just chatted behind the counter, never once came onto floor on either visit.
Sold me two discs without CDs in cases, forcing me to return and pick up the CDs.
Put price tags directly on cardboard sleeves of rare Marillion 3″ singles. This tore the cover art upon removal attempt. Damaged packaging thanks to shoddy pricing work.
Added kick in the nuts: Chris from Encore contacted me to tell me that my Iron Maiden – Number of the Beast vinyl is almost $10 cheaper at his store. Why do I still go back to my old haunt? Standards sure have fallen in 20 years.
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