RECORD STORE TALES #1226: The Wayne’s World Drumsticks
They weren’t my drum sticks, but like many things that belonged to my sister, I claimed them as “ours” not “hers”. It was she that got Wayne’s World on VHS. The tape came with a free pair of Wayne’s World drumsticks. They were cheap and warped (a common issue), but they were not meant to be played. They were intended to be a collectible for fans of Wayne Campbell and his drumming friend, Garth Algar.
Wayne’s World was a worldwide phenomenon when it was released to cinemas in early 1992. I myself went to see it twice in the space of 24 hours. When it was released on VHS just in time for Christmas, it was everywhere. You could buy it at the grocery store if you wanted to. Mike Myers and Dana Carvey’s loveable metalhead characters had become cultural icons in a very short span of time, with “Not!” and “Yeah, right!” becoming immediately popular punchlines in youth culture. Myers has a knack for that kind of impact. He did it again in the late 90’s with Austin Powers and “Oh, behave!”
Drums were always an instrument I was fascinated by. I would sit on the edge of my bed and play air-drums to my favourite songs. When Kathryn acquired the VHS tape/drum stick bundle for Christmas, I upped my air drum game.
I set up some pillows on my bed and practised smacking them with my…her sticks. It looked and sounded stupid, but it was physically fun to do!
Switching gears a moment, when final exams rolled around, I spent a lot of time studying. It is a tedious task, but I had a proven method. I would comb through my class notebooks, and make a set of point-form notes on all the key subjects and sub-subjects. Then I would reduce those notes to a list of keywords. I would then memorize the list of keywords. It was very mechanical but it worked. If I could remember that list of keywords, I could trigger the memory of what I wrote in my point-form notes, and retain enough of the facts and figures to pass the exam.
Memorising a list of words and phrases is a tedious, mechanical task. It lent itself well to rhythm. So, eventually I would get to the point where I would be in my room reciting this memorized list, pounding out the words to the beat of the Wayne’s World drum sticks. Pillows on the bed, notes scattered about, and me saying seemingly random words like, “Max rebellion”, “Francs”, “Rhine/Rhone”, and other phrases designed to trigger a memory of a series of historical events. Pounding out the words with the drum sticks hitting the pillows in little thuds. Eventually I drove all those words into my head, in order!
That’s the true story of how a pair of warped Wayne’s World drumsticks that weren’t even mine helped me pass my Ancient History classes.
The big plastic bin of garbage lay before me, to take out as I go. We had a bathroom pipe break the day before, so in the plastic bin was not just your average garbage, but also an impressively rusted bathroom drain pipe. I tucked my two cell phones (work and personal) into my shirt pocket as I always did, and picked the plastic bin up with the legs. Navigating the simple act of taking out an awkward bin of garbage is tricky at age 53. Carrying the brunt of the weight against my chest, I walked the garbage out to the dumpster.
I opened the lid a crack, struggled a bit, and heaved the trash into the dumpster. Job done, and off to work.
I’m a nervous nelly and I’m always checking my pockets. Right front pants; keys. Left front pants; wallet. Front right shirt…front right shirt.
Shit.
My phones. Both of them. Gone.
I ran back to the dumpster and opened the lid in the pitch black. Fortunately, one of my phones was lit up. They must have fallen in with the garbage, when I dumped the contents of the plastic bin into the dumpster.
I’ve never gone dumpster diving in my life. I have zero experience in this. Well, I was about to get my wings. I calculated the risk as I lifted myself up. I got my right leg up.
“This is easy,” I actually thought to myself. “I wonder if they design these things so you can get in if you have to.”
I lifted my whole body over the edge, and lost control of the situation quickly. I tipped over to the left and landed with a mighty crash on my left side.
“Fuck!” I might have shouted. I don’t remember. That’s when the adrenaline kicked in. Even though I could not see, one lit-up phone led to another, and I retrieved both. Nothing gets the adrenaline flowing like being stuck in a dumpster, and so I somehow lifted myself back up and out. I landed on both feet this time. I truly do not know how I did it, but as soon as I hit the ground, I began slowly walking it off and focusing on breathing. It only occurred to me later what would have happened if I landed on something sharp.
I was convinced that nothing was broken, so I got in the car and went to work. When I got there, I felt the adrenaline wearing off and more pain settling in. I tried to move a box of documents to be shredded and couldn’t even budge it. That’s when I changed my mind and decided to go to the hospital.
According to my notes, I was admitted right around 7:30 and discharged at 1:00; not a bad turnaround.
The nurses and attendants with all very helpful and sympathetic. They helped me out of my chair when I needed a lift. Between all the nurses and doctors, I think I told my story five times. Each time, it was hard not to laugh at the stupidity. That’s when I realized how much it hurt to laugh. It was a fairly easy wait. I bought with me a book, which was noted by the triage nurse. “Oh, I see you brought a book, smart!” I mumbled something about thinking ahead, but what came out was more or less gibberish. The book I had with me was, of course, dystopian fiction: 2546: Harbinger of The Equinox by Australian writer Violeta M Bagia. I ripped through the first 60 pages before I was let go.
X-rays were thorough. Nothing broken. It’s not as simple as that though, as this is an injury that can get worse if not cared for.
They gave me three yellow pills and three white pills. I could definitely feel their effects as breathing became easier. Getting up? Not so easy. Still working on that. It requires a system of sequential movements that I haven’t quite mastered yet.
I got myself home. My mom bought me a sandwich. It was the first food I’d had all day.
I can’t see any marks on my body, but I sure bet that will change in the coming days.
Having sat long enough, now I move to go lay down a while. Wish me luck. I’m sure this isn’t the end of this story.
SPASTIC PHONO BAND – “Wings Under Japan” (1980 7″ single, Slipped Disc Records)
INVESTIGATIVE REPORT – 45 years ago…
[Editor’s note: the authors of this report have asked to retain their anonymity.]
The year: The harsh winter of 1980, remembered for its deep cold and snow. In the realm of popular music, all four Beatles were still alive, even though the band had been broken up for a decade. One of the Beatles soon found themselves in a wee bit of trouble. This trouble would spill all over the world news, causing rippling effects and ramifications far beyond the shores of England, for that winter in New York State, a band would go on to record a song….
The Beatle in trouble was the still-babyfaced Paul McCartney. It was no secret that he was already known for enjoying the green leaf. Back in 1972, McCartney was arrested in Sweden for possession of Lady Ganja. He was released without charges at that time, but his reputation was now cemented. McCartney wanted to book a Japanese tour in the mid-70s, but the country was very strict about illegal substances and refused Paul permission to play. The fans in Japan would have to do without.
Finally, in 1980, Japan had a change of heart and granted permission for Paul McCartney and Wings to tour in the Land of the Rising Sun.
He just needed to make sure he packed appropriately for the trip.
Paul McCartney is an undisputed musical genius. His songs will last 100 years. That does not mean that Paul always used his head. Despite the scrutiny he was bound to experience upon entering Japan, he decided to bring a stash with him. He was arrested upon discovery at the Narita Airport with 220 grams of Hawaiian green. Reportedly, he didn’t even attempt to hide the electric lettuce, just packing it in his carry-on bag with his clothing. Paul subsequently spent 10 days in the keiji shisetsu (刑務施設); actually the Tokyo Metropolitan Police Department. Teenage girls numbering about 50 serenaded the station during Prisoner 22’s incarceration.
Unfortunately for Paul, the nature of this arrest and jailing far away from home meant headlines all over the world. “PAUL IN CHAINS” and “EX-BEATLE ARRESTED IN JAPAN” went the articles, along with a photo of McCartney being escorted by Japanese officials. It was huge news, especially in the UK where it became a bit of a media circus.
The judge in the case determined that McCartney brought the drugs for personal use and not trafficking, and decided that Paul had spent enough time in jail. He was taken to the airport, and flown to Holland, where he was (perhaps surprisingly) refused entry. He still had time for a chat with the press.
“How did you get out?” asked the reporter.
“Walking on foot,” answered Paul in typical cheeky Beatle humour.
The experience was “a drag” for Paul. “I was woken up at six in the morning, then had to sit cross-legged for a roll-call. It was like Bridge on the River Kwai. They shouted out ’22’ in Japanese, and I had to shout back, ‘Hai!'”
The 11 date Japanese tour was cancelled at the cost of 2.5 million dollars and 90,000 tickets.
Did he learn from his experience?
“Now I have made up my mind never to touch the stuff again. From now on, all I’m going to smoke is straightforward [cigarettes]. No more pot.” He later acknowledged his own stupidity. “Well, to this day I have no idea what made me do it. I don’t know if it was just arrogance or what. Maybe I thought that they wouldn’t open my suitcase. I can’t put myself back into that mindset now…to this day I have no idea what made me do it.”
Over in America, shortly after shoveling out from a massive dumping of overnight snow, a young songwriter named “Vic Trola” was inspired to write a song. At least that’s how the credits read on the actual record. A recent online theory postulated that “Vic Trola” was indeed a pseudonym, but these writings are mostly found in conspiracy theory discussions. A fringe group that splintered off the main conspiracy theory group added that “Vic” was short for “Victoria”, not “Victor” as previously assumed. These theories are largely dismissed by the other groups. Our own extensive research has failed to unearth any other compositions written by Trola; just the one that you are reading about today. We do know, thanks to documents obtained in the process of researching this article, that after catching their breath from shoveling the drive on that cold winter day, Trola went inside and began writing. The surviving notes from Vic Trola’s respirologist confirm these facts.
Vic Trola’s song, as it evolved into its final form, was the product of on-stage gigging by the mysterious Spastic Phono Band, and that is where our story really begins. Though their names are now lost to time, and their relationship to Vic Trola is clouded, we do know that they consisted of a tight rhythm section. Both the drummer and bassist were exceptional. They boasted a dual guitar configuration, and multiple lead singers including one female vocalist who appears prominently on their sole recording called “Wings Under Japan”.
The Spastic Phono Band had experience. They had already been working on a set of originals and comedic covers. Favourite hits by Santana and the Might Zep were endowed with new witty words, and they found an audience who shared their sense of musical comicality. Encouraged by the audience reception to these songs, the Spastic Phono Band turned their attention to the hot news of the day: Paul’s arrest in Japan. Presumably with Vic Trola’s lyrical input, they started playing bits of his Beatles and Wings hits in a medley. Egged on by the crowd, and adding throwaway lyrics here and there, the song “sort of wrote itself”, according to a maraca player who claims to have been there at the time (and requested complete anonymity). It took only three or four shows for the song to come together as we know it today. The Paul medley became an instant live hit. The crowds ate it up. They learned the words, sang along and shouted for more! Clearly, the song needed to be recorded in a studio, and put out on a record.
Unfortunately for the band and Vic Trola, who were based out of Liverpool (New York, pop. 2400), there were few studios around within the reasonable driving distance of a beaten-up touring van. Their studio of choice would be unavailable for three weeks, and time was of the essence. The Paul story was hot now, not later! Even if they recorded the song immediately, it would have to be mastered and pressed at a record plant, meaning they had to act immediately. The scarcity of nearby studios presented a challenge. Would these young musical minds be able to publish their Paul pastiche in time?
As they used to say, the Spastic Phono Band let their fingers do the walking: They picked up the phone and eventually connected to something that somehow passed as a recording studio. The old schoolhouse that they booked was certainly was not conceived as a studio when it was built in the last decade of the 1800s. The top floor housed the recording space, but in a decidedly inconvenient design and safety choice, it was only accessible via an outdoor fire escape. All the band’s equipment had to be hauled up the emergency exit: drum after drum after drum, followed by amp after amp. Bags were passed from vehicle to musician and up the fire escape, which wobbled with every tentative step. Also, it was winter. Members of the band were not sure if they were going to survive the combination of snow and ice, metal steps, and gravity. To our great fortune, they did.
The studio owner was also the engineer, and his soul still lived in the 1950s. He didn’t grasp the nuance, or understand the Spastic Phono Band’s particular brand of humour. He did, however, have a friendly personality and got along with the band. A good sounding record began to take shape on tape. The band nicknamed the engineer “Eddie”, a reference to a classic Leave It To Beaver character, Eddie Haskell. Eddie’s studio had all the necessary equipment (minus an elevator). He even had an ARP synthesizer which can be heard on two segments of the recording: “Silly Drug Laws“ and “Banned in Japan”. Though the band did not have the budget to spend more time in the studio to do some further work on the guitars, the band climbed down the fire escape holding in their mittens a reel-to-reel tape of their hard-earned work. Physicists specializing in the behaviour of water at low temperatures speculate that the tape was almost dropped once on the way down, but saved from an icy fate in the snow.
The schoolhouse was demolished in 2025 at 131 years old.
Though recorded, the song still had to be mastered and cut to vinyl. With time slipping away, and Paul McCartney finally starting to experience a decline in the media frenzy over his Japanese vacation in the big house, the Spastic Phono Band were in an ever-increasing time crunch. Their song, heavily dependent on McCartney’s imprint in the public consciousness, had to make its way to a physical record that you could buy. Their preferred manufacturer was fully booked and the band could not wait any longer. The track was complete, mixed and ready to be mastered…but where?
Through furious searching and some tense bidding on eBay, we have obtained some of the logs, unfortunately anonymous, detailing the following sequence of events of the recording:
Monday.
Tempus is fugiting. Much to our dismay, the cute Beatle’s troubles in the Far East are rapidly becoming old news. Also with windchill, it is about four degrees today.
The Paul story was soon displaced by other current events. The Iranian Revolution made fresh headlines, and soon came the hostage crisis. Front pages were dominated by the tense 444 day crisis, during which 66 Americans were held hostage at the US Embassy in Tehran. As it happens, another band in the same area as the Spastic Phono Band, a trio, were working on a song referencing these events. One of the songs in their regular set, popular in some of the local Irish venues around the area, was Jerry Jeff Walker’s “London Homesick Blues”. It featured the unique chorus of “I wanna go home with the armadillo.” (Who wouldn’t?) This was easily adapted into “I’ve had enough of the Ayatollah”. The clever lyrical substitute worked, and the band approached the club owners documented only as “The Brothers Three”. The Brothers actually owned three clubs, which seemed poetic. The Brothers Three liked the song, feeling that it tapped into the sentiment of the day. The reached into their pockets and financed a studio recording of the Walker cover. They were now in the record business.
The Spastic Phono Band, who were familiar with the trio in question, learned of this. Realizing it was a good idea, they decided to make their own pitch to the Brothers Three.
Wednesday.
They went for it. Sure, they argued a bit and the oldest one may have smacked the youngest one, but we did get a unanimous decision. The Brothers Three are going to allow us to use the disc maker where they pressed the Ayatollah record.
The record would be made in a little postage-stamp sized record plant (if you could call it that) in Connecticut.
Tuesday.
One of the Brothers Three picked me up in his MG convertible today. We took the tape to a dumpy little record pressing company. Mission accomplished. We ordered 300 copies to be made. Then headed home, but my companion driving the convertible decided to put the top down. It may be February thaw, but it was so cold I still don’t have feeling back in my nose. Considering calling an otolaryngologist.
Frozen noses aside, when the boxes containing 300 copies of “Wings Under Japan” finally arrived, the McCartney story was equally cold.
Friday.
Believe it or not, there isn’t a lot of demand for a record by a band that nobody’s heard of.
The records were delivered to stores, who tried their best to push it, but were fighting an uphill battle. The record was not a hit. The 300 copies did eventually end up in the hands of the public. There are no documents detailing any sales, so we do not know if the band sold them at shows, or by mail order, or any of the other quaint methods available in 1980. Mr. McCartney never stumbled upon the record, as far as the evidence suggests. At least, we know he hasn’t sued. But could he even locate the Spastic Phono Band if he wanted to? We could not. Vic Trola has pulled a DB Cooper: Taken the money (if any) and flown.
Though only the original 300 copies were made, we were able to track one down for this article. It was clearly loved in its previous home.
Housed in a yellow-brown sleeve (the original?), the 45 has a nice maroon label, stating this is on Slipped Disc Records. Charmingly, the song “Wings Under Japan” is split over the two sides…sides 3 and 4. (It has been suggested that this release, with sides 3 and 4 instead of 1 and 2), gave George Lucas the idea to number The Empire Strikes Back as Episode V instead of Episode II as expected. With that film releasing in May 1980, we cannot completely dismiss the claim.)
The track is just over seven minutes combined.
Leavin’ on a Japanese roadtrip, Headin’ down a London runway, Paul said ‘I need to bring along some good weed, Because it helps me relax when I play.’
Guffaw! The song begins with a spoof of “The Ballad of John and Yoko”, now called “The Ballad of Paul and Linda”, with a similar structure, but words about Paul. “The way things are gooooin’, they’re gonna scrutinize me!” And they did…but not long enough for the Spastic Phono Band. The song continues.
Staring at the man with the baggie. Paul said, ‘Maybe I’m amazed! It only amounts to less than half an ounce, Why do you have to get so carried away?’
In perhaps the most obvious yet fun twist, the song then goes into Wings’ “Hi Hi Hi”…but re-written as “High High High”. This is funny because it’s so obvious, it had to be done. It’s amazing nobody else did it. Incidentally the harmony vocals in this section are rich and excellent.
Next up in the Paul medley is “Silly Love Songs”, redone as “Silly Drug Laws”. “What’s wrong with drugs, I’d like to know, ’cause here I go again! I’m in jail…” Another example of great singing by the Spastic Phono Band, but listen to that 1970s groove and the dexterous bassline! This is some serious playing.
Side “3” ends, and so we flip to side “4”. Fortunately in the modern era, we can use our digital capture software to seamlessly edit the two into one track! Next is “Band On the Run”, revised as “Banned In Japan”. In this case, the original song is almost a medley of different sections itself. The Spastic Phono Band do several of them here. “Stuck inside these stone walls, might be here forever!” There is a poignant moment coming here, frozen in time. Little did they know that John Lennon had only months to live, for in December of 1980, he would be murdered in New York. So to hear the line, “I’ll join with Ringo, and George and John and we’ll put the reunion on,” reminds us that finite period of time when such a thing was indeed possible.
A brief pause and then, just like on Abbey Road, wait for a Beatles-y coda.
“Wings Under Japan” is, quite frankly, one of the best parody medley songs (or however you want to describe it) you’ll ever find, for three reasons.
The mystery. Who are the Spastic Phono Band anyway? We may never know. (Or, more accurately…we may never tell.)
The musical prowess. There is some serious playing and singing on this brief single, and your life would be richer if you heard it.
Though depicting events before some of you were born, the lyrics are still hilarious due to the timeless nature of weed jokes.
RECORD STORE TALES #1224: Nov 11: An Uncle Paul Story
November 11 is a very important day in my family. Since my grandfather and his brother both served in Europe during World War II, it was a tradition that I have always known. My grandfather rarely told war stories. It used to make me uncomfortable. At home, my dad would educate me on different battles, and the tanks and the guns and planes involved. My dad’s specialty is the Pacific theater, but he certainly taught me the difference between a Panzer and a Sherman. I knew what the Battle of Britain was. I had seen all the old movies. So when my grandfather seemed…haunted by the war, it contrasted that childish “cool factor” that you get by watching a tank fire its cannon.
From my earliest memories, we went to the cenotaph every Remembrance Day, heard the cannons fire, shivered in the cold and watched Grampa lay a wreath. I was short and could hardly see. Back then, November 11 was a school holiday, so families could go to the cenotaph. Eventually they ditched that holiday in favor of an in-school memorial. This took place in the gymnasium. They’d run a film and I’d just sit there thinking “right now Grampa would be laying his wreath.” We lost him in 1983 but the family always went.
This is where the story deviates from today’s theme. My Uncle Paul and Aunt Maria would also go to the cenotaph with us. They drove in from Stratford. For us, it really was a full family day.
My Uncle and Aunt would come to town for the ceremony at 11 o’clock, but stayed the day to visit. My dad and uncle would go to the local car dealerships and look at the new models. Best of all, they would pick my sister and I up from school at the end of the day! What a treat. Not only didn’t we have to walk home on a cold day, but we got to ride with Uncle Paul and my dad. We would laugh and smile the whole way home. I loved this modification to the old tradition…but there was more. Much more.
Little did I know, but after the Remembrance Day ceremony, the whole family would head over to Hi-Way Market and visit their incredible, legendary toy section. My Aunt and Uncle would buy all of our Christmas gifts right there in one shot. Every GI Joe. Every Atari game. Every Transformer. They were sitting there in the trunk, directly behind us as we rode home from school. Every single gift that I was salivating over, nightly in the toy catalogues. They were right there, mere inches away!
If it sounds like I still can’t believe it, it’s still amazing to me that they did this for years and I had no idea!
Thanks Uncle and Aunt for making every Remembrance Day visit a special one for a kid. And thanks to Grampa and Uncle Gar for doing what had to be done.
RECORD STORE TALES #1223: The Creative Process and Why I Love Editing (The new and improved Grab A Stack of Rock show intro video)
Funny thing about creativity: Sometimes size does matter.
The size of your canvas, that is.
I love editing videos, and my pet project for three years now has been the theme video for my YouTube show, Grab A Stack of Rock. In those three years, I have created over 100 revisions. I have spent countless hours at my deck working on them. My old PC’s fans used to groan in protest when loading the files.
Ever since the old LeBrain Train days, I wanted an opening theme song video that include every guest who had ever been on the show. When we started over from scratch, that was still my goal. Now we have had 50 guests and the old theme song video was getting cramped. Tim Durling extended it a long time ago by looping a chorus, so I came to him for help once again. Creatively, Tim added a guitar solo to extend the song’s length even further. Modestly, Tim said “It should be apparent to anyone listening that a professional guitar player I am not, but it sure was fun.” Hey man, it’s good enough for rock and roll, and it gave me a much larger canvas to play with.
When I had the much shorter video, it was always painful for me to edit when we had a new guest to add to the show. What do I cut, in order to fit the new person in? There were some parts of the video that were synched to the song and were set in stone – Paul Shortino’s cameo, for example, my laugh at the end, and so on. I love editing; it is one of my favourite parts of the creative process. I can sit and edit all day and not realize how much time has gone by. I always pay for it later in cramps.
Thanks to Tim and this ever-expanding song I now have more canvas, and I’ve been playing with it even more.
“It needs more Dan Chartrand,” I said at first, and so I added more Dan, and just for kicks, more Jex too. Game Show Host Jex, with the jacket.
There was also one shot in the original video that always bugged me. It’s one of the oldest shots, but it is from a Christmas show that included Brian Richards as a guest – his only show as a guest. But it was a static shot and always stood out for that reason. It hasn’t looked right for a long time, so I took this opportunity to replace it with a moving shot of Brian waving. I also wanted more Nurse Kat, since she did two episodes with us, and more Archie Gamble since he did three. In a fun happenstance, I got one shot of Archie synched up to the chorus, so it looks like he’s singing Grab A Stack of Rock. I also wanted more Davey Cretin, so a chose a shot from our Brave New World episode that has me holding stacks of Maiden during the chorus.
I hope this brief glimpse of a day’s work gives you an idea of why I love working on editing videos. There is almost always something you want to fix, but the process of doing so either becomes so impossibly tedious that I say, “That’s it, this work is done.” Not done – abandoned!
I have been working in the video medium, as an amateur, for 36 years. I like editing to music. I like placing my edits at key moments of songs, or at least with the beat. It gives me a framework and enhances the visuals. I’m obviously just a hack; this isn’t a “how-to”. I’m just expressing what I love and why I drink my coffee until it is stone cold, sitting here trying to perfect that magical “final” edit.
And then I wait, because now I can’t wait for the next guest to arrive and be added to the showcase.* We still have several more to come!**
One day I’d like to do some more animation, but that is mostly an outdoor summer activity for me. For now, I will continue to enjoy doing this for myself, because at the end of the day, nobody else notices all the minute little tweaks and changes I make to my passion projects.
*We’ve already added Lana Teramae, and another new addition, Bob Cesca, will join us this week on 50 Years of Iron Maiden.
**Two more guests are coming on 50 Years of Iron Maiden: Ryan Murphy from RushFans, and D’Arcy Briggs from darcyska. We also have plans with author Robert Lawson, and an interview with a musician that I am not ready to disclose.
Written by Mike Ladano, Jen Ladano, and Tee Bone Erickson. Recorded and performed by Tee Bone, guitar solo and remix by Tim Durling
Blaze Bayley
Harrison Kopp
Mike Ladano
Eric “Uncle Meat” Litwiller
Aaron KMA
Tim Durling
Rob Daniels
John T Snow
Marco D’Auria
Grant Arthur
Brian Richards
MarriedandHeels
Kevin Simister
Dr. Kathryn
Jen Ladano
Grace Scheele
Jex Russell
Spencer “Spenny” Rice
Nurse Kat
Peter Kerr
John Clauser
Erik Woods
Jason Drury
Pierre-Luc Allard
Len Labelle
Reed Little
Metal Roger
John the Music Nut
Mike Slayen
Pete Jones
Todd Evans
James Kalyn
Angie Moon
Ryan Gavalier
Chris Preston
Dan Chartrand
Glen “Archie” Gamble
bicyclelegs
Davey Cretin
Melissa Nee
Sidney Cini A
Ashley Geisler
Martin Popoff
Bert Blotto
F Lee Harvey Blotto
Bowtie Blotto
Broadway Blotto
Jake Not From State Farm
Bob Cesca (Camp Chaos)
Lana Teramae
and (briefly) Max the Axe
Plus Daisi the Dog, Gimli the Cat (RIP) and Galadriel the Cat
Earlier in 2025, I was sent a new drone to test. I was very excited to receive my U11Mini 4k drone from Ruko, but struggled to keep it flying straight. I crashed it once in the summer. I thought my issues were due to user error, weather, or bad calibration. I didn’t think it was due to a faulty drone. I tried it once more in early October. The flight started well enough, but I lost control of the drone during the return. It started veering to the left and losing altitude. I managed to bring it back to the beach and land it in the sand, but I thought for sure it was going to hit the water or trees.
I figured three strikes and you are out – I didn’t plan to fly the Ruko again, despite its awesome 4k camera and ability to hold a level image even if the drone is flying on a 35 degree angle. I packed it up. My dad talked me into changing my mind.
“Why don’t you just contact their customer support?” he asked.
“Because this drone was a free review copy,” I answered simply. “I did the review and gave it a passing mark.” As a creative individual, I like to make my own videos, and edit them how I please. Working with Ruko, they encouraged me to film different landmarks and objects from the drone. I prefer working independently on my videos, so I didn’t really want to go back to them. Yet, my dad was right. What harm could come from submitting a ticket for customer support?
Ruko came through. All they asked for was the flight log for the most recent video where I encountered troubles. You can see in the video below, I flew fine and straight for the outbound flight. Upon my return, the drone started veering off to the left, and losing altitude. I could not control it, but barely managed to land it in the sand without hitting the water, rocks, or trees. Ruko had a look at the flight log and determined that it was not user error. They offered to send me a new drone!
“Just the bare drone,” they said, and I agreed. I didn’t need new batteries, a new case, or a new controller. Just the drone itself.
Two days later, there was a parcel! And it wasn’t just the bare drone. It was the whole package – cables, case, batteries, controller, and everything else you need. I now had two complete drone sets, one that didn’t work and one that was brand new out of the box!
The only unfortunate thing is the time of year. I let Ruko know that in Canada, it was fall turning into winter, and the window for good flying days was over. They said “no problem”.
While I still have not had a chance to test the new Ruko drone, I can give their customer service a 5/5 star rating. Fast, hassle-free and helpful. Hopefully I will get a chance to fly again before the spring. If not, thank you Ruko and we’ll see you next year!
When I was in grade eight, I nicknamed myself “Ace”.
I think the reason I picked Ace as my favourite Kiss member (and therefore favourite rock star) back then was twofold. It didn’t have anything to do with the music. I didn’t know what songs he wrote, and I didn’t hear any of the songs he sang for a short while. Early in my Kiss fandom, I picked Ace because of his cool silver makeup, and the spaceman theme. I was a science fiction kid looking for my next thrill now that Star Wars was over. It was Kiss.
Frehley’s guitar playing wasn’t complicated, but it was impossible to duplicate. Kiss know that: they tried. Any Kiss fan worth their salt can easily tell the difference between Ace and his final replacement, Tommy Thayer. Tommy was the next best thing, but he didn’t have that chonky, gnarly feel that Ace poured into every solo and every rhythm track.
Ace’s style was based on the pentatonic blues scales of the classic rock bands he loved. His rhythms, double tracked with a Les Paul and a Fender, was the foundation of the original Kiss sound. His solos, blazing and breakneck, were squiggly delights of power. I loved Ace.
When I got my first Kiss albums in September of 1985, I had yet to hear his voice. When I finally did on Dynasty, I loved it. Ace’s voice had a smooth, commercial sound that Gene and Peter’s did not. I loved “2000 Man” and “Hard Times”. Especially “Hard Times”, because the lyrics gave a glimpse of the childhood of the Bronx boy named Paul Frehley.
Ace’s first post-Kiss solo album was finally released in 1987, and I was immediately on board. My sister bought Frehley’s Comet for my birthday that summer. I loved the album: “Rock Soldiers”, “Into the Night”, “Calling To You”, “Fractured Too”…I played it back to back all summer. I dreamed of Ace opening for Kiss on their upcoming Crazy Nights tour. Hah! As if that would happen.
Ace’s premature loss is tragic, but what is most tragic is that Kiss refused to allow him back on stage with them during their farewell tour. By now we have all learned that life is too short to not reconcile with our friends and loved ones. Kiss never did and now they never can, and that is a tragic loss too.
On September 25 2025, Ace fell in his home studio. He suffered bleeding in the brain, and was taken off life support on October 16. Kiss fans worldwide steeled themselves for the news.
I hope Ace is not just remembered for the classic Kiss songs he wrote and played on. I hope attention is paid to his solo albums, from which you could build an absolutely killer boxed set. Tracks like “Insane”, “Juvenile Delinquent”, “Trouble Walkin'”, “Space Invader”, “I Wanna Go Back”, and “Mission To Mars” should all be given just as much attention as “Rip It Out”.
The first original Kiss member to fall was Ace Frehley. That is a sad landmark. Let us remember him not for the feuds, the drama, or the negative words that Gene and Paul bandied about too often. Let’s remember Ace for his charisma and most of all, his music.
In September 2023, I received an email from a musician that I will not name. Below is an edited version of what I received:
Hi!! My name is XXXXX XXXXX, I have a couple of CDs out. I see that you collect physical media. If I send you one of each, would you review them for me? XXXXXX XXXX produced and sang back up vocals among other things on the first album. The second album is acoustic, with XXXXXX XXXXXX playing all acoustic guitars. I wrote every track on both albums except one song that was XXXXXX‘s… Anyway would love to send you a couple, let me know my brother and have a great day!!
The names that I redacted include a famous musician that I recognized from a fairly big “hair metal” band. Normally I decline all review requests, because as the sender noticed, I collect physical media and that’s what I review. For him to offer a couple review copies, I immediately said yes.
I forgot about it for a couple weeks, but eventually received a parcel notification in the mail. The first things I look at every time a parcel notification arrives are:
Pickup date/time (usually next day at 5:00 PM).
Customs charges, if any.
My eyes popped when I saw the customs charges.
$538.00!
I had never seen anything so high before. When I used to order toys in from the United States, I would often get $500 of toys in one box, and the customs would usually be well over $100 for the box. I’d never seen anything this high before. What the hell did I order that had $538.00 of customs on it? I couldn’t think of anything I ordered that would be that expensive.
I called the post office to see if they could tell me who sent the parcel? That was a headache and a half. They really did not want to look for the parcel and read me the sender’s name or address. I was persistent and kept asking. “All I need to know is who sent me this parcel, because I have no idea what it is or where it came from, and $538.00 is a lot of money.”
They probably have some kind of policy at the post office about revealing information like that over the phone. However, I was not letting up, and I didn’t want to drive to the post office to look at a parcel that I was very unlikely to pay for.
Finally I was given a first name. Not a super common version of the first name, so it immediately connected the dots. It was the guy with the two CDs that he was sending me for review. Two CDs…for $538.00? That made no sense. What the hell did he put for the value of the parcel? Did he mean to write $20.00, but wrote $2000? Did he send me 200 CDs instead of two? I asked how large the parcel was, but Canada Post had already hung up.
I never contacted the guy back, and he never emailed me when his parcel was eventually returned. I don’t know if he’s still making music or not. There is at least one other artist (a country singer) with the same name, but I did find his albums on Discogs. His debut came out in 2009 with a followup in 2021. Neither are on a label, but the second CD does have a photo of the famous musician from a name band. Neither album had a selling history.
I wonder what happened to my mystery musician? I wonder what the customs screwup was? I’ll never find out now!
RECORD STORE TALES #1220: The Maxell Tapes and the Rules of Acquisition
The year was 1997. We carried blank tapes at the Beat Goes On, and had for some time. I believe in 1997 we were carrying Maxell tapes of various grades. After that, we switched to Sony. We only carried two lengths, which were the most popular: 60 minutes, and 90 minutes.
We sold them as singles, and we also created “bricks” of three tapes, by using Scotch tape to package them together. We would sell the “bricks” for a discount compared to single tapes. Obviously with this being so long ago, I cannot remember the exact pricing, so let’s say it went like this:
Maxell UR60 – $1.59 each
Maxell UR90 – $1.99 each
3 pack brick of Maxell UR60 – $3.99 each
3 pack brick of Maxell UR90 – $4.99 each
We also sold the Maxell XL-II tapes which were more expensive, but let’s keep things simple for these purposes. We’ll just talk about the UR tapes.
One afternoon, we were running low on tapes and waiting for a restock order. I had sold out of the UR90 bricks, but still had some singles for sale.
A girl walked up to the counter and asked if she could get a deal if she bought three Maxell UR90 tapes. I said sure, and grabbed my calculator so see what it would be. I punched in some numbers, and didn’t check my math. Having clumsy fingers, I have learned I need to punch in numbers twice when adding on a calculator, but back then I wasn’t in this habit.
“$5.99 for three tapes,” I told her.
“Sounds good,” she said. We processed the transaction and she left happily with her three Maxell UR90 tapes.
Only then did I realize that I charged her more than the three tapes would have sold for originally.
“Damn!!” I said out loud. I ripped her off.
We had a saying for when we ripped off a customer, either on purpose or by accident. (An example of “on purpose” would include selling a “used” copy of a CD as “new”, which we sometimes did when a sufficiently mint “used/new” copy came in.) The saying was this:
“Pure profit.”
Like a Ferengi reciting the rules of acquisition, I consoled myself with the knowledge that the bossman made an extra three cents that day on some Maxell blank tapes.
FERENGI RULES OF ACQUISITION (which the Beat Goes On usually followed where applicable):
Number
Rule
Episode
1
Once you have their money, you never give it back.
RECORD STORE TALES #1219: Grab A Stack of Eats 2025
Every year at the cottage, I try to expand my cooking game just a little bit. In the past, this included making our own onion rings, slow cooking some beef ribs, caramelizing onions, working with exotic meats such as duck and lamb, and finding new ways to cook my veggies. Had money been available this summer, I would have liked to start smoking my own meat. Perhaps next year. In 2025, we did try some new things and have some excellent food experiences.
The story starts in December of 2024. We have a “tire guy”, Jason, who comes to the house and swaps out our tires twice a year. I knew that Jason was a hunter, and I know he had a freezer full of moose meat. We talked about it a bit, and discussed seasoning and cooking techniques for the exotic meat. I asked if he could spare a taste of the moose meat. Just a taste. I am well familiar with moose, as a boss at work is also a hunter and brings in his own moose spaghetti from time to time. It is not very gamey. It has a beef-like taste and texture, with a venison finish. It is a lean meat and not bad for you as a beef substitute.
Jason didn’t bring just a taste. He went above and beyond, to the point that I was actually freaking out over the amount of meat that I had to eat.
I just wanted a taste. What I got was a pack of moose pepperoni, a huge moose salami, and ten frozen links of big moose sausage. Ten links.
There has not been a single year in my life where I ate ten links of any sausage at all. Typically, I would have two or three at Sausagefest in the summer, and that is it. I don’t do Oktoberfest and I’m not a big pork eater. Jen won’t touch any kind of exotic game meat at all, so I could not count on her for any help. The sausage was kept in the freezer until the opening of cottage season 2025. It would be the first food experiment of the new year.
“Dad, you have to help me finish this sausage. At least one link,” I told my father.
“Oh you eat them son, just enjoy. You don’t have to share with me,” he answered as some form of polite excuse.
“You don’t understand what I’m saying dad. I CAN’T eat ten links by myself.”
Cut to the end: He didn’t eat any of them, and I did finish all ten.
Most of them were cooked on the barbecue, well done, and served with a toasted bun and a variety of toppings from mayonnaise to mustard to guacamole. One was done in a frying pan, but the fumes actually triggered a seizure in Jen, so I avoided that method from then on. Still, even with different toppings and condiments, ten sausages is a lot so I had to get creative.
One night in September, arriving at the cottage on a Thursday night, I needed to eat some dinner but had few options in front of me except…moose sausage. I imagined cutting up the sausage into small chunks and using them in some way, and then realized: I had everything I needed to make a moose spaghetti. So I got cooking!
I began by cutting the sausage into meatball-sized chunks. Then I sautéed it in olive oil, diced up some green peppers, red onions, garlic and mushrooms, and added them to the mixture. I like a nice chunky sauce, so those diced veggies would blend in perfectly. I let them cook until they reached the desired done-ness, and then added some craft spaghetti sauce that my dad had in stock from an unknown store. I like a bit of heat, so I gave it several shots of Tobasco sauce, gave it a stir and let it simmer. I made enough spaghetti to serve two, and dumped my sauce with moose sausage on top. It was a masterpiece. I finished it all – eventually.
That experiment was a total success. Maybe Jason will get me some more sausage this winter, and I can try again next year. Not ten links though. Five will do me fine.
Our other successful experiment involved my first try at cooking a steak of Canadian wagyu. I have cooked Japanese A5 wagyu at home before, but that is a very expensive and hard to find meat. We no longer shop at our local Kitchener butcher (Robert’s Boxed Meats) after they sold us not one but two rotten steaks. No third chance for Robert’s, and no more access to Japanese A5 wagyu. The bright side of this is that after Robert’s almost ruined our cottage weekend with a steak that we had to throw in the garbage, my dad suggested we try the local Kincardine butcher, the Beefway. This began a love affair and with a great store, and relationship with the staff who know us by name and recognize us when we come in. When we first visited, I asked if they had heard of such a thing as A5 wagyu. They had, of course, but didn’t carry the animal in stock. Cut forward to 2025, and they now have Canadian wagyu in stock. Not as marbled as the Japanese A5 variety, it might actually be a more enjoyable meat to enjoy as a steak. There is a farm on the highway to the cottage that grows the animals, which is likely where the Beefway got theirs.
The Japanese A5 wagyu is so rich, that you really can’t eat more than a little in one sitting. It is considered more a steak that you cut into cubes and share. The Canadian variety was better suited to the steak eating experience. I ended up doing two this year, both ribeyes. The Beefway had a variety of cuts in stock, but I like a ribeye. It was not cheap, but as a treat, certainly the best steak I’ve ever made at home. More enjoyable than the A5 due to the better meat to fat ratio. It was still incredibly tender, even when I accidentally cooked the first one to a medium well. The second one, I underestimated and cooked it to a rare. The thing is, both were really good. With a good steak, I always keep the seasoning simple with salt and pepper, and maybe garlic powder. A crappy steak needs everything I can throw at it to make it tasty, but the wagyu doesn’t need much. No steak sauce. You want to taste that meat. You’re paying for it, so you better be able to taste it. Salt might be enough on its own.
That is 2025 and its food experiments in a nutshell. Nothing crazy, and all with local meat. Which leaves us to end on a funny story.
The first time I purchased wagyu from the Beefway, I was so excited about my find, that I wanted to tell the world. I made a post on the local Kincardine Facebook group. There were several “likes” and loads of positive comments, except from one person who just didn’t…get it.
Darlene Johnson saw the price on my ribeye and had an absolute fit. Her first of many comments is below.
She didn’t understand that the steak was a local cow, bred similar to the Japanese variety, no matter how it was explained to her. She continued to berate me for buying it, and the store itself for “selling out” to Japan. She said she preferred a nice lean steak. I bet she cooks it well done, too. I had to block her. She was just mean.
Darlene A. Johnston will not dissuade me from buying the meat I like, and I will continue to patronize the Beefway as long as they are open. Wagyu or otherwise, I have never had a tastier steak (or bacon, or pork chop, or chicken breast), than what I can get at my new favourite local butchers.
2025 was another successful year for food. Bring on 2026!
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