Record Store Tales

#1114: Music Groups / Party Poopers

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.

 

 

 

 

#1113: Running Up That Hill

RECORD STORE TALES #1113: Running Up That Hill

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!

 

 

 

#1112: Comfort Albums (ft. Peter Kerr)

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!”

#1111: Every Copy I Have Ever Seen of This CD Was Flawed – KISS: “Forever” CD single – with audio sample

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.

 

 

#1110: Happy Winter Memories Vol. 3 – Rocking the Basement

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.

#1109: “Marillion Sucks”

RECORD STORE TALES #1109: “Marillion Sucks”

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.

#1108: Oojaboojagan

RECORD STORE TALES #1108: Oojaboojagan

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.

 

#1107.5: Fairway Road Fail

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:

  1.  Nobody greeted us at the door (twice) – this was compulsory.
  2.  Nobody asked us if we wanted help (twice) – also compulsory.
  3.  Two guys just chatted behind the counter, never once came onto floor on either visit.
  4.  Sold me two discs without CDs in cases, forcing me to return and pick up the CDs.
  5.  Did not issue me $3 credit / apology letter for forgetting.
  6.  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.

A failing grade for my old store.

#1107: Dark Clouds & Silver Linings: CD & Vinyl Haul, and Grab A Stack Of Rock spotted on WWE Wrestling

RECORD STORE TALES #1107: Dark Clouds &; Silver Linings:
CD & Vinyl Haul, and Grab A Stack Of Rock spotted on WWE Wrestling

Jen has experienced a few health setbacks.  Last week, she took another hard fall.  It wasn’t a seizure this time, but a pothole in the sidewalk.  She took a tumble, busted her expensive therapy glasses, and ended up with a bruise on her forehead that became its dominant feature.  During a moment of levity, I dubbed her Mikhail Gorbachev, which she took to heart with a comedic post on Facebook about her resemblance to the former Russian president.  You have to laugh sometimes.  Despite this, all the setbacks have taken a toll on my own health, and I really have not been doing well either.

One night last week, I was so stressed out that I slept for 10 hours and still woke up feeling like a zombie.  My head banged and every limb ached.  I really struggled to come down after some of the recent events and scares.

However, as always, there are good things amongst the rest.

I took Jen to the eye doctor after her fall, and killed some time at the local Record Store.  They had a bunch of cool Marillion and Fish in stock, so I snagged all of it.

  • Marillion – “Incommunicado” 5″ CD single – damaged packaging, but this is a duplicate CD and will be donated to a worthy friend
  • Marillion – “Freaks” (Live) 5″ CD single
  • Marillion – “Hooks In You” 3″ CD single
  • Marillion – “Uninvited Guest” 3″ CD single
  • Fish – “Big Wedge” 5″ CD single
  • Fish – “A Gentleman’s Excuse Me” 5″ CD single
  • Boston – Greatest Hits CD
  • Iron Maiden – The Number of the Beast 40th anniversary LP

I’ve been wanting a complete collection of classic 80s Derek Riggs Iron Maiden on vinyl, so why not.  I remember when Sam the Record Man had Powerslave, brand new, for $5.99.  Beast was $39.99.  Holy moly.  The total haul was $92.

New music is good for the soul, so this haul, expecially the 3″ discs, was especially satisfying.  I did notice a few things about the Record Store.

Back in my day, there was a “not hats” rule.  That was hard and fast.  I had bad hair a lot of days and couldn’t hide it under a hat.  On this visit, one guy had a touque, the other a baseball hat.

Neither guy asked me if I wanted any help.  That also used to be a hard and fast rule.  You had to ask every single person who walked in the door.  Give ’em a minute, and ask.  Neither guy bothered.   Things sure have changed in the last 20 years.

I had to laugh at a couple things though.  An older man came in and asked about a movie on DVD.  The guy at the counter told him the movie was still new in theaters.  I remember having that very conversation in my days at the Record Store.

I also observed people coming in with boxes and tubs full of CDs, movies and videos games, reminding me of my busier Saturdays in the days of yore.  I really didn’t enjoy buying used CDs by the tub, but in came the discs regardless!  By the tub, bag or box, the CDs came in a never-ending stream of media.  I spotting a woman bringing in a Tragically Hip Phantom Power CD from 30 feet.  I still got the skills.

I think I did well at the store today.  I did even better after.  Cooler than a CD haul at a Record Store though, was the surprise that Johnny Clauser had for me.

John Clauser, from My Music Corner on Youtube, is one of my favourite music people.  He was off to a televised WWE event, Road to Wrestlemania Smackdown, in Birmingham Alabama.  Johnny had ringside seats.  Rumour had it that Dwayne “The Rock Johnson” was going to be there that night.  He was.

On national television, John Clauser can clearly be seen, wearing his Grab A Stack of Rock shirt.  It’s there for the world to see.

When the Rock enters, it appears he sees the shirt, and stares at it for a few seconds.  John says he was staring directly at the shirt…the Grab A Stack of Rock shirt!   You can see it happen on video.

Regardless of the rumours, John planned two weeks in advance on wearing my Grab A Stack of Rock shirt to the event.  I didn’t know of his plan until he started sending me pictures from ringside.  By the next day, people were sending me screenshots and video clips of John at ringside, on national television.

John, I cannot tell you how much this means to me.  To see my shirt on your chest on national television.  To have this image of the Rock and my shirt together…it is beyond words.  I cannot express my gratitude to you.  It’s beyond measure, sir.  I’m sure John has plenty of shirts.  Thank you sir, for making my day a little sunnier.

As it turns out, the sun came out Saturday for the first time in many days.  It was glorious to behold.

Spring is closer and closer.  Better days ahead.  I smell the what the future is cooking!

 

 

 

Check out the Rock spotting my shirt at 14:50

#1106: “The Entire Population of the World Can Fit in the State of Kansas”

A sequel to #893: Damien Lucifer, and #1104: …Parental Guidance…

RECORD STORE TALES #1106:  “The Entire Population of the World Can Fit in the State of Kansas”

Not all of us have been this lucky.  I had a fortunate and free childhood.  I was allowed to listen to whatever I wanted to:  AC/DC (oh no, “Anti-Christ/Devil Child!”), Kiss (“Knights in Satan’s Service!”), Ozzy Osbourne, Black Sabbath, Alice Cooper, Iron Maiden, Judas Priest…all the bands that the TV shows said were bad influences on kids.  They would lead us to drink, drugs, violence, and worst of all…Satan.

I went to a Catholic grade school where wearing a Judas Priest shirt to class earned scornful glares and harsh words.  I also had several friends in highschool from other religions with strict views on dress, music, movies, and TV.  I knew how good I had it at home.  I never had to hide my Guns N’ Roses tapes from my mom.  I didn’t have to crop my hair short like a couple of the highschool kids.  There was a family though…oh, there was a family across the street.  And this is a story about those strange characters that I loathed, then and now.

Now, keep this in mind:  I have no issues with faith.  I do have issues with dogma and assorted silliness.  So if you’re offended, I am sorry.  I’m cool with Jesus but not so much with strict, outdated thinking.

With that in mind, let’s push play on Ghost’s Opus Eponymous CD and dive on in.

Let’s call these people the Davids.  Mr. and Mrs. David, and their two kids, Boy and Girl.

Mr. David was a teacher.  I have rarely encountered such a dumb educated person in my life.  Maybe dumb isn’t the right word.  Airheaded?  Scatterbrained?  Moony?  Oblivious?  I once saw him pull out of his driveway, realize that he forgot something, stop his car in the middle of the road, run in to get whatever he forget, and get back in his car.  He used to park on our side of the road because he liked our shade tree, but he would park his car backwards against traffic, which drove me nuts to no end.  I would purposely park as close to his bumper as I could get without pissing off my own parents.

They had embargoed all kinds of fun stuff in their house.  One day we were out tobogganing.  Mrs. David was driving a car full of kids.  I was talking about how much I loved Doctor Who, in particular the villainous Daleks.  They may have looked like little pepper pots with a plunger sticking out, but their cries of “EXTERMINATE!” rattled the bones of every kid.  They were awesome!  Mrs. David simply said, “We are not allowed to watch the Daleks in our house.”  Ouch!  Talk about a buzz killer.  What the hell did she have a problem with?  Intelligent science fiction with badass villains, I guess.

In 1984 they all went to go see Bruce Springsteen. His music was allowed.  Helix was not.  I can remember Boy David coming over and watching the Pepsi Power Hour with Bob and I on television.  He was absolutely terrified from the “Rock You” music video.  I seem to remember him bailing and running home when it came on.

‘Twas Mrs. David who spied my MAD magazine and was so offended by the cover story about “Damien Lucifer“, lead singer of “Antichrist”.  She reported the offending magazine to my mother, who asked me about it.  I laughed and took great joy in telling my mom that Mrs. David thought a MAD Magazine was real.  Mrs. David was a child psychologist.  She fell for an obvious parody.  Directly below the Damien Lucifer picture was a contest, with the prize being getting trampled at a Motley Crue concert.  There was a “six page fold-out” of Gene Simmons’ tongue.  I mean, come on.

The weird thing is this.  About a decade later, Boy David was blasting Savatage’s “Hall of the Mountain King” from his front window so loud you could hear it around the corner.  Banning music didn’t really work for the David family.

Through the years, my parents have maintained suffering contact with the David family.  They always come home bitching about them, but haven’t been able to completely get themselves away.  I sense that they wouldn’t mind if they never had to socialize again, but don’t want to be the ones to make the break.

One night while I was still working at the Record Store, my parents came home from dinner with the Davids, and my mom immediately started with the stories.  The things these people would say!  My parents would sit in stunned silence, sipping drinks and nibbling food, but not really reacting.

“You wouldn’t believe what Mrs. David said at dinner tonight,” began my exasperated mother.

“You’re going to like this one Michael,” nudged my dad as he walked past.

“Tell me!” I squealed in delight.

My mom set up the story.  Mrs. David was on about the state of the world, natural resources, overpopulation, and lord knows what else.  Malthusanists, they were not!  You see, they adhered to a particularly hard (but traditional) interpretation of God’s infallibility.  Because God is incapable of error, the Earth that He created is flawless and perfectly made for us to use.  Hard-core Catholics used to believe that extinction was impossible, due to this perfect intelligent design.  Equally impossible is overpopulation.  God told us to “go forth and multiply,” did He not?  Therefore, overpopulation is absolutely impossible.

“You know, the entire population of the world can fit in the state of Kansas?” asked Mrs. David to my stunned mother and father.

“How the hell did we get on this topic?” they thought to themselves as they concentrated on their food.  My mother told me this in the kitchen that night, and I just laughed uncontrollably.

“Sure, if you packed them in like sardines!  What is wrong with those people?” I asked.

“I do not know,” said my mother in a flat, tired tone.

The last time I saw anyone from the David family was in the 1990s.  I’d like to keep it that way.