WordPress is changing and so I too must change. Nine years, I’ve been flying with WordPress. They are now foisting this new editor upon us. And so, I thought I should try to write with it.
Today I listened to Deep Purple’s The Battle Rages On in the car. Hey, I can still do colour.
The new editor isn’t great but so far so good. My problem is that when I get into a creative groove, I want to be able to go on autopilot. I don’t want to be pecking and searching and figuring out how I used to do something when the words should be flowing freely. But here we are; change is inevitable. Therefore, this brief test post.
Test photo gallery: A tease of upcoming reviews. Can you guess what they are?
Sadly, I only have four reviews currently lined up. I have felt a disturbance in the Force. The Friday night show, it takes up so much time and energy I simply have not been able to write and review as much as I used to. But I can’t give up the Friday night show. It is too important to me. And to my friends. I will continue to post daily, but I’m sure you’ve noticed review content has been less frequent.
I feel like I need to review something really quick in order to compensate for my lack of reviews. Plus it gives me an excuse to try embedding a video.
JULY TALK – “Laid” (2020 music video)
July Talk are a fantastically quirky quintet from Toronto, fronted by Leah Fay and Peter Dreimanis. His gravelly Tom-Waits-ish gutterals are a delightful contrast to Leah’s melodic whimsy. Their 2020 live video cover version of James’ hit “Laid” is simply great. You could argue that anybody can cover “Laid” based on every bad bar band that you saw do it. What I like here is that July Talk make it sound like a July Talk song.
One camera, no edits. Pete’s mask dangles from his ear while Leah hangs on out barefoot on the couch. Josh Warburton, Ian Docherty, Danny Miles, rocking it in the back. The masked drummer, wailing away on that signature drum riff. This non-album track adds to the band’s excellent canon of video material. If you like this one, check out their latest single “The News”.
4.5/5 stars
I think I’ve accomplished what I set out to do, which is familiarize myself with the new editor so I can continue to produce content for you! Blame Kevin.
I don’t know how I got mono, but it happened it the 8th grade. Everybody was getting ready to graduate and move on to highschool, which was something I could not wait for. I also can’t remember how long I was sick for. I was home from school for a long time. Weeks? Felt like months. I almost missed graduation. I made it back to school for the last few days of the year. I remember everybody was nice to me when I came back. That was a first. I only managed half a day upon my return, but felt well enough to do a full day the next time. Then it was all over.
I didn’t mind having to stay home from school. It kept me away from the bullies. There wasn’t much to do except watch music videos on the Pepsi Power Hour. That’s how my “music collection” grew, song by song. One of the defining songs from that period in my life is “Rough Boy” by ZZ Top. MuchMusic played that video a lot, and I captured a really good recording of it that I played incessantly. I didn’t own any albums by the artists I was recording. Anvil, Dio, Hear N’ Aid, Loudness — but I added the songs to my life. “Metal On Metal” was what I craved.
The limitation here was that I could, in theory, only listen to these songs on the TV in the basement. Like most people, we had an ordinary mono VCR and a TV with only one speaker. It was a strange JVC machine, with a dockable remote. I can’t find any pictures online of the exact model. It looked cool but it had a potentially fatal flaw. It was that dockable remote. It was the only set of controls. If you lost the remote, you were in trouble!
Like all kids, I wasn’t allowed to spend all day in front of the TV, even when I was sick. But I wanted my tunes. Songs like “Let It Go” by Loudness. “Shake It Up” by Lee Aaron. “Lay It On the Line” by Triumph. I was just a kid; I didn’t have money to buy all the records. I had enough to start collecting the core bands I loved, like Maiden and Kiss. Not outliers like Loudness or Dio.
My buddy Bob taught me how to improvise. I had a box of primitive wires and connectors. At a very early stage, I realized I could connect the single “audio out” port on the VCR to one of the two “stereo in” jacks on my Panasonic dual tape deck. This meant that the mono signal from the VCR was really going to be in mono on my tape deck. One speaker only. Left or right, it was my choice. Neither was ideal. But I could put my music from the Pepsi Power Hour onto a cassette, which could then be enjoyed in my bedroom.
I saved my allowance and my parents took me to Steve’s TV so I could buy a Y-connector. It was a cheap, grey cable with one RCA connector on one end, and two on the other. It split a mono signal into a fake stereo, which is exactly what I needed.
I recorded all my MuchMusic videos (the ones I didn’t own on album) to cassette in this way. When I got around to buying an album, I wouldn’t need the recorded songs anymore. I didn’t like to waste valuable cassette space, so I would record over any redundant songs. I still have all these tapes, but the tracks today are a mish-mash of different years of recording and re-recording. When we got a stereo VCR in early 1991, I was able to put the Y-connector back in the box for good. No more need for fake stereo. Now I had the real thing for every music video I recorded going forward.
Having so many great songs recorded in mono (often with truncated beginnings and endings) gave me a real appreciation for buying the albums later on. Listening to my tapes made me want the really good songs that much more. When I finally got them, in full stereo cassette glory, and I heard the songs come to life, it was like going from black and white to full colour. Or 2D to 3D. Albums versions were often longer than the edited video versions as well. Buying the album was always rewarding. But there were so many songs, and only so many dollars. I had to pick and choose what to buy. Sometimes I wouldn’t get around to them for years. Or decades.
You just read a story about a kid with mono, listening to music in mono. You can say you’ve done that now.
In theory, it should have taken 15 minutes for us to walk home from school.
Cross the busy Ottawa Street with the crossing guard. Down Ottawa, left on Crosby and then right on Secord. All the way down Secord to Hickson, Inlet and home. Sometimes if my dad was driving home from work at the same time, he’d see us walking and pick us up.
The reality was, we usually took a lot longer. My dad used to say that we “dawdled home”. Most of the time, we trudged it on foot. We began at the start in clumps of kids, who would peel off singly or in pairs for their own homes as we walked the route.
The other day I was driving that way, and decided to take a spin down Secord and the old route. The roads were slushy and the snowbanks were high, and suddenly I had a flashback. Why does it seem like we were always walking home in the middle of winter? Those are the most powerful memories. Dodging snowballs thrown by other kids, trudging through deep snow trying to make a “short cut”. Coming home soaked and cold. Eating some Scotch broth for lunch and then back to school for the afternoon. I’ve driven that way lots of times, but only this one time — in the winter, with snowbanks at kid-level — did I have a flashback.
One of the only shields from the cruel outside world that I had as a kid was music. At the moment I was driving, suddenly the power chords in “Little Death (Mary Mary)” by the Barstool Prophets hit the speakers. “I would have loved this song as a kid,” I said aloud.
I never knew who my friends were back in those days. A kid who claimed to be my friend one week would be a bully the next week. There were one or two kids I knew I could trust, like Allan Runstedtler. He was too nice and smart a kid to get caught up in that stuff, but he walked home from school in the opposite direction. There was nobody else I could count on to stick up for me. KK was just as likely to be throwing the snowballs at me. Ian Johnson used to get under my skin. “Name five songs by Iron Maiden,” he would say, instead of just teaching me about Iron Maiden like my real friends did. But my real friends, from my neighbourhood, didn’t go to that shitty Catholic school.
The thing that I was discovering was that music like Iron Maiden made me feel good. It made me feel temporarily bulletproof. Something about those proud, defiant power chords. I felt more capable of projecting pride and defiance if I had Iron Maiden behind me. Helix, Kiss, Judas Priest — these were the bands that kept me trudging through the snow while being pelted from behind.
The Barstool Prophets song had the same effect. As the flashbacks hit me, the guitar riff of “Little Death” pushed back against them. Yes, I would have loved the song as a kid, had time travel existed back then. Still working on my flux capacitor, but I’m getting there. It’s strange, but sometimes I sit there and imagine if I had been able to allow my past self to hear certain songs. I imagine my younger self’s reaction. It makes me emotional. That’s the only kind of time travel I’m able to do. I didn’t have a bad childhood by any means, but man those bullies did a number on me. I made it well into my 30s before being able to assess the damage that followed me right into adulthood. I think the hardest part was not knowing who I could trust. As it turns out, almost nobody. By the end of the eighth grade, only Allan hadn’t picked on me. And then I was rid of them forever as I changed school systems.
I would try to memorize songs as best as I could so I could keep them in my head while I was at school. The teachers were part of the problem and the defiant nature of heavy metal music was, shall we say, not appreciated by Mrs. Powers. I don’t think she commended its aesthetics, nor song titles like “Hotter Than Hell“. She wasn’t one of my supporters as the grade school days drew to a close. Nor was Ian Johnson, Kenny Lawrence, Kevin Kirby or any of my supposed “friends” in class. My only friends in that cold depressing classroom were the songs by Helix and Kiss in my head. I drew guitars in art class.
There’s a flashback for you. Ian Johnson may have mockingly quizzed me on how many Iron Maiden songs I could name, but he vastly underestimated just what that music meant to me. A year later he cut his hair short and was into something else. My love affair with music never ended and only grew with me through time. The Barstool Prophets have just shared a serious emotional moment with me, which allows them automatic entry into my soul’s Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. It’s a pretty serious honour. Please takes your seats with the other immortals enshrined within. Graham Greer, Glenn Forrester, Al Morier, and Bobby Tamas — otherwise known as the Barstool Prophets — welcome to the hallowed Hall of Fame!
Working retail means you can’t control who you see on a day-to-day basis. Faces from the past are part of the job. Teachers, old neighbours, bullies, and so on. Sometimes it’s not a face you really cared to see again. For example, there was this one kid named Terry Moulton from grade school. He was known as a burnout even in grade eight. The word in class is that he would skip to go and smoke pot with his dad. One day I was working and who should show up to sell me some used CDs but Terry. He recognized me. I’m not so good with faces from the that long ago, but I remembered the name. I made him a generous offer on the discs, and asked for his ID. We had to ask for ID in order to buy anything used from the public. Part of theft prevention. Of course Terry didn’t have any ID so I skipped that part for him as a favour. I asked for his address and he didn’t even have a fixed address. I broke a few bi-laws by buying discs from him that day.
My journal records another encounter with a forgotten face from the Catholic school days.
Kevin Kirby’s name was ingrained in my memory even if I didn’t recognize his face. Kirby was into metal when none of the other kids were. He had Black Sabbath, Van Halen and Ozzy records thanks to an older sister. He was my “friend” I guess. Friends by circumstance, not by choice? Frenemies? He copied my homework. He pushed me around. He made fun of me. Once he picked on me, and I fought back, so he cried to his mom about it. His mom called the school.
According to my journal the last time I saw him was in 2004.
Date: 2004/08/04
An interesting day, thus far.
A couple assholes, but not many in general.
Saw Jessica, waved hello.*
Then a dude with a mullet came in. Bought a CD. Asked if I remembered him. He knew my name. Kevin Kirby it was…guy who used to pick on me in grade eight. Nice to see ya, pal.
He might have been into good music, but he was a prick to me in our last year of school together. Don’t care if I ever see him again.
RECORD STORE TALES #881: The Return of the Record Store Tales
A minor announcement, but an announcement nonetheless! As of this chapter, for all of my stories going forward, I have decided to retire the name Getting More Tale. I am returning to the original moniker of Record Store Tales.
It’s really always intended to be considered one body of work.
One of the most important parts of the original Record Store Tales was the “ending” — quitting the store in Part 320. That series of events was one I was really anxious to tell, so when the time felt right, I got it done and wrapped Record Store Tales up in a lil’ bow. I then broadened the scope of my stories with the “sequel” series Getting More Tale (title suggested by Aaron of the KMA).
Getting More Tale has often dipped back into the Record Store days for subject matter, as well as childhood, and the 15 years since I quit. I’ve also told stories about technology and historic records. The sky was the limit when I changed the name to Getting More Tale…but I have always identified as a “Record Store guy”. Even if it has been 15 years since I last worked behind a counter…once a Record Store guy, always a Record Store guy.
The 12 years I spent in the store were 12 of the defining years of my life, from the highest highs to the lowest lows. But to quote a song, “It’s My Life” and calling the whole she-bang “Record Store Tales” feels right. Even if roughly half the stories have nothing to do with working in a store, “you are what you is”. Today I may be a guy who works in the steel industry, but I will always be a guy who managed a Record Store, and proud of it!
So there you have it; the lines shall no longer be blurred. The ongoing story of Mike LeBrain, former Record Store manager, obsessive music collector and all-around open book, shall henceforce be known once more as the Record Store Tales.*
The content is not changing one iota. I have the next 10 chapters locked and loaded, with subject matter covering the whole gamut. Childhood musical flashbacks, working behind the counter in the glory years, school daze, old tech, bad dates, toys, and maybe even some controversy. I continue to be excited to bring you stories that you seem to enjoy! It has been been over six years since I “wrapped up” Record Store Tales. There was backlash to the ending. But that only emboldened me. My writing has improved ten-fold since. I’m proud to fly the flag of Record Store Tales again.
Thanks for reading all these years! It has been an organic experience and for nine years you have been an integral part of it. Let’s go forward, shall we?
To be continued….
* I won’t be going back and re-naming anything, I will just be carrying on the numbering system will the title Record Store Tales.
Since starting the Facebook Live streams, I thought maybe doing a reading of some of my own stories would be fun. The reaction was mixed but some of the comments are below.
Comments:
“I thought this stream would be about music but it is about poop and toilet paper. Pleasant surprise.” – Buried on Mars
“Story time with Bum Face?…This is gonna be a long stream.” – Uncle Meat
“The greatest story ever!!” – Chris
The live stream went down as only live streams could, spontaneously and hilariously. I tried re-recording the reading to get better quality but that was impossible. The only solution is to use the original live stream reading from the night of April 3 2020. Since that was done on live video, you get the video of it as well as a bonus.
GETTING MORE TALE #825: Klassic Kwote – Carnival of Souls
We were encouraged to put stickers on CDs to draw attention to them at the Record Store. When Kiss’ Carnival of Souls was released in 1997, I put a sticker on there that read “FINAL ALBUM WITH BRUCE & ERIC”. Because why not. Other stores did things like that. Stickers are fun. Bosses didn’t like my stickers, but I was the store manager and I wanted to make stickers.
A dude picked up the CD and asked me, “What does this mean? Final album with Bruce and Eric?”
I didn’t know how to respond so I simply answered, “It’s the final album with Bruce & Eric.”
Sunday Chuckle will return next week. This Sunday, we remember the sacrifices made by those who served their countries. For me in particular, it’s my Grandfather and his brother who fought against the Nazis in World War II that I like to remember. As dark forces encircle the world today, let us not forget those currently serving who are keeping us free.
Here are our past stories regarding Remembrance Day, please give them a click and a read.
mikeladano.com 