Record Store Tales

Part 313: Not Allowed Lending!

RECORD STORE TALES Part 313: Not Allowed Lending!

By popular request, here’s a story about loaning your CDs out to people who don’t appreciate or take care of them properly.

Really, I should have learned my lesson in Grade 12. I loaned my brand spanking new cassette copy of Van Halen I out to this kid at school, Jamie. He was a nice kid, so I didn’t have a problem with it. What I did have a problem with was the condition in which he returned it: without the cover! How could he possibly have lost it? He did eventually find it and return it to me, but he didn’t seem to understand why it mattered. Who does that? Lots of people, I’m afraid.

At the Record Store, I befriended a customer named Len, who I actually went to highschool with, but didn’t know until after. We had the same group of friends who were all into the same music. I turned Len onto Marillion and he began borrowing my Marillion discs to burn. What upset me was when I loaned him my limited edition copy of Anoraknophobia. Remember how Marillion put out limited edition digipack versions with bonus discs? If you pre-ordered, your name would make it into the CD. My name is there inside Anoraknophobia, and the followup Marbles as well.

img_20140805_180021Len returned my copy of Anoraknophobia – a sold-out limited edition – with a crease in the spine. Probably from trying to photocopy the booklet. I wasn’t happy and I told Len I wasn’t loaning out my CDs anymore. He was sorry he had done it, and understood that I was upset, but that didn’t take the crease out.

Later on, I bought a condo. I moved into the same building as a friend of ours, somebody we all had met via the original record store location. Her nickname was “San Francisky” – a long story that involves my dad and his inability to pronounce things correctly. She was a nice girl most of the time, but very pushy. I have issues with people who try to persistently try to push me around, so I had begun to distance myself by the time I moved in.

A few weeks after I moved in, she came down to my unit. She was having a party upstairs. She needed some music.

“Do you have any Beatles?” she asked me.

“Yup, I have the Red and Blue albums. They’re excellent. The Red one probably has all the songs you’d want for a party.”

VH 194_0001She asked me about a couple more CDs.  Van Halen was one. I got them out of my CD tower.

“You’re going to take care of these, right? And you’ll return them tomorrow morning?” I asked pointedly.

“It might not be tomorrow morning but I’ll bring them back, of course.”

I knew how this girl took care of her own CDs. I had bought enough used discs from her at the store. She always bitched when I told her the discs were scratched up. She never put them back in the case, and left them out all the time.  Knowing her ways of handling discs, I added additional instructions.

“I want you to be careful with these discs, and put them back in the cases when you’re done. I also want you to make sure nobody else touches my CDs. Only you.  I want them back exactly as they are.”

She gave me this flabbergasted expression. What she said next was the sentence that ended what was left of our “friendship”:

“What do you care if they get scratched?! You work at the store!”

That was it. I told her I wouldn’t loan her the CDs if that was her attitude. She went upstairs in an angry huff, and we never socialized again. I ran into her now and then, and she was always bitchy.  The friendship was over.

I really had no regrets about that. One thing about me is that if you want to be my friend, you have to accept me as-is, quirks and all. You don’t have to understand them, but you have to accept them. Nobody can change me.  The only person who will ever change me is myself, and taking care of my property is one thing that doesn’t need changing!

Part 312: Reader Poll – Coming to a Close

POLL

RECORD STORE TALES Part 312:  Reader Poll – Coming to a Close

Folks,

Sharing my Record Store Tales with you these past two years has been something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. It took me years to finally start publishing them, but all good things must come to an end. The seemingly bottomless well of Record Store Tales is now almost dry. I’ve plundered papers, hard drives, journals, photos and memories, but it was inevitable that eventually I’d run out of good stories to tell.

Sure, there will always be an occasion when I say, “That reminds me of a Record Store Tale!” and I’m inspired to write some new content based on those memories. When that happens, I’ll post it. However, I do feel the need to wind down the Record Store Tales and get on with the ending, which was already written a long time ago.  I like to write so much more than just album reviews. When the Record Store Tales are concluded with the proper ending, I want to continue the storytelling. Music and retail will remain the main focus, it’ll just be from the other side of the counter.

The problem is…I don’t have a title.

“Record Store Tales” and…what? “Post-Record Store Tales”? “Record Store Tales: The Next Generation”? “Record Store Tales: The Other Side of the Counter”?

I invite you to come up with better titles than these. Submit ideas in comments below. There are no guarantees I’ll use your suggestion, but if I like it, you can be the person who names the next chapter of my story.

You in? Post your best ideas!

Part 311: Record Store Gallery IV (Shite Photies)

RECORD STORE TALES Part 311: Record Store Gallery IV (Shite Photies)

This is what it’s come to in this crap-fest known as Record Store Tales:  Another batch of semi-embarrassing photos of a much younger and thinner LeBrain.  These are from a party circa 2003 or so.  I can’t remember the names of anybody in these photos except one, which is Jesse Villemaire (last photo), the owner of Thrive tattoo studios in Cambridge.  I can’t remember a single other name!

Long time LeBrain readers will recall that vintage Marillion tour shirt (that I don’t fit into anymore) from Part 126:  The Marillion Shirt.

Part 310: Logos Galore

RECORD STORE TALES Part 310: Logos Galore

This subject came up in discussion a few months ago: Did you used to draw band logos on all of your stuff? Sure you did! If you’re reading this blog, then you’re a music lover, and all true music lovers have scrawled a logo on something at least once.

I found a single page with dozens of my old hand-drawn logos. This goes back to my first days at the Record Store!  Some are good, some are shite, some aren’t even the real logo!   I think the TS “bone” logo looks pretty good, and I’m going to give myself props for using obscure versions of the Kiss and Helix logos.

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Part 308: The Cottage in the Woods (VIDEO BLOG)

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RECORD STORE TALES PART 308:  The Cottage in the Woods

As bad as the stress used to get, there was always one place I could return and truly recharge my batteries:  the cottage.

I’d pack a dozen or so CDs (tapes in the early days) and go on long walks with my Discman.  Eat some steaks.  Check out the water, rivers and funky bridges.  The phone never rang.  Heck in the early days there were no phones here.  No cable TV, no wi-fi.

Today, I created, edited and posted the video you’re about to see in one day, entirely at the cottage.  How unimaginable to me back then.

I tried to re-create the experience of being here visually — probably the most peaceful place in the world.  I hope this gives you a taste.  Enjoy

Part 307: Court

COURT

RECORD STORE TALES Part 307: Court

I can only say so much about this subject, for hopefully obvious reasons. I can say this: Yes, I have had to testify in court, in a case of stolen CDs.

It was the Monday after Mother’s Day, in the year 2000. It was a long, ongoing case, a break and enter. I had forgotten all about it. I had made my written statement a year prior. The store had done nothing wrong. We did everything exactly as we had to, when dealing with a situation like this. As per the instructions of the police, we took all the correct ID from the suspect when buying the CDs, and followed all the correct procedures. When dealing with stolen goods, the police actually preferred us to buy the goods rather than send the person away. That way, they get evidence.

Unfortunately since I was the buyer this time, I was a witness and was therefore subpoenaed to testify. Two of my co-workers from other stores also had to appear in court. I was the only one who decided to wear a suit and tie for my appearance. The other two came in jeans and T-shirts.

“Mike!” laughed Cam. “What are you wearing a suit for? You look like you’re the one on trial!” I looked around. Indeed, the only people who seemed to be dressed as nicely as me were the people who were on trial and their lawyers! And I didn’t look like a lawyer.

“I thought you had to wear a suit to court,” I said in ignorance.

Without going into details, here’s what I remember:

– Cam got a parking ticket because there wasn’t any parking available.
– We spent hours waiting in a room that looked like school class room. Hungry and unable to leave, we decided to order a pizza. We pooled our cash together but didn’t have much left for a tip. I remember that the delivery guy threw the extra coins back at us.
– A year after the incident, I couldn’t remember what the guy looked like. I remember him being big, and bald. That was not enough to satisfy the court that I could recognize the accused. My testimony was all but useless.

I remember reading in the paper a short while later that the defense lawyer got his client off. It wasn’t really a surprise to me.

I only had to go to court twice, both for this one case. The experience left me with a bad taste in my mouth. The store had paid cash for the CDs we bought from this guy, but we never got compensated for them when the police took them as evidence. In my experience, we only ever got compensated once, and that was just for four CDs. Although we always cooperated with the system, and made sure we always followed procedure, we got burned too.

Part 306: Happy Birthday to Me

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RECORD STORE TALES Part 306: Happy Birthday to Me

Today is my birthday!

20 years ago…20 YEARS AGO!…I was hired at the old Record Store. It wasn’t 20 years ago today; I don’t remember the exact date. But it was mere days before my birthday, two weeks at best. I was given some money for my birthday, and I remember the exact CD that I bought on July 19, 1994. It was Rush. Chronicles.

So here’s a confession, something I’ve never admitted to here before. Privately yes, but not publicly. That Rush Chronicles that I bought 20 years ago today was my first Rush album. Ever.

I was pretty late to the Rush party. I didn’t really start to pay attention to them until the 1990’s. Growing up in the late 1980’s, in my age group, none of my friends liked Rush. As far as I could tell, nobody liked Rush. They simply were not in my hemispheres. I had seen their music videos on Much, but for the most part I didn’t like what I saw. A funny looking guy, keyboards, a guitar player wearing a tie…I overlooked Rush.

I did like one song. “Subdivisions”. That song was undeniably cool, with that slick synth part as the main hook. This song, I dug. Way more than “Tom Sawyer”. Way more than “Red Barchetta”. Definitely more than “Time Stand Still”, which I considered an embarrassment at the time. “Subdivisions” stuck with me, through highschool, through university. I decided I needed to get it, so I finally started exploring the Rush repertoire. And I started with Chronicles.

I would have got it sooner, but I didn’t have the money. Now I had money, a staff discount, and access to hundreds of used CDs in great condition. I had arrived in my own musical paradise!

I was soon enthralled with Chronicles.  Many songs that were new to me were quickly becoming favourites: the new-to-CD live version of “What You’re Doing”.  The silly but instantly likable “The Trees”.  Most of all though, “Red Sector A” from Grace Under Pressure.   For a brief while, this song unseated “Subdivisions” as my favourite Rush track.

On this day, I’m going to extend a hearty virtual handshake to the man who gave me a chance at that job, the owner-founder of the store. He did it just because he knew my dad, and my dad asked him to help me out. He didn’t have to, he didn’t even ask for a resume. He just asked me to come down one afternoon and talk. That one talk irreversibly changed my life, and I look at that moment as the end of one life and the beginning of another. It was one of those proverbial turning points.

Thank you.  Now, I’m off to party!

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Part 305: The Return of the Wiseman

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RECORD STORE TALES Part 305:  The Return of the Wiseman

Seeing Wiseman at Sausagefest XIII brought back a flood of memories.  Some I can share, some I definitely cannot!  I didn’t think I’d ever see the cat again, but it truly is a small world after all.

He was a party animal, that guy, and presumably he still is.  Nice guy, smart too, but when he tied one on, he didn’t do it in half-measures.  Partying for him was the full Monty.  So here are two things I remembered about the guy:

1. Bacontinis.  Like a Martini, but with bacon instead of olives.  Count on Wiseman to try something like this, years and years before the current bacon trends.  Now people are trying bacon in everything, thanks to people like Epic Meal Time.  Wiseman was way ahead of the times when it came to alcoholic beverages.

2. Christmas.  I was scheduled to work the evening shift on December 23, with Wiseman.  He initially wanted the night off, because he had a “Christmas party” to attend.  Getting the night off wasn’t possible due to scheduling, so he came to his shift fully prepared to party afterwards.  He packed everything he needed, so he could go straight to the party afterwards.

For Wiseman, these crucial party supplies included a sleeping bag, copious amounts of liquor, a hose, and a funnel.  I kid you not.  Like I said, Wiseman didn’t do parties in half-measures.

I was glad to see at Sausagefest XIII that Wiseman hasn’t killed himself yet.  It’s comforting to know he’s still out there, bringing the party wherever he goes.

Part 304: The Richard Parker Files

RICHARD PARKER

RECORD STORE TALES Part 304: The Richard Parker Files

Don’t you hate it when you see an able-bodied driver flagrantly park his or her vehicle in a no-parking zone? That’s one that drives me nuts. For example, at one of the local malls, you’ll see people constantly parking in the lane where the NO PARKING signs are quite clearly visible. They run into the cash machine and run out again, even though there is a 15 minute parking spot available right near the cash machines, that is always empty.

Obviously these people must be in a rush. They may feel like they are more important than you or me and everyone else who actually properly parks their vehicle in a spot. It might be a fire lane, but no firetrucks were about to pull up, were they?

Maybe it’s just the asshole in me, but I didn’t like to see that in the Record Store Days. Once in a while, I wouldn’t serve a customer who parked in front of the store. Especially when I can see dozens of empty spots mere meters away. My store was not in a busy plaza. There were always close spots available. The laziness and attitude of entitlement really ground my gears.

I recall one instance very clearly. A young man pulled up to my store one store morning, and parked on the curb. There were NO PARKING signs along that curb that he chose to ignore. He came in with a bag of CDs for me to buy.

“Hi. How are you? I want to sell these,” he said.

“Sure!” I said with a broad smile. “Why don’t you go and move your car to a parking spot, and I’ll get right on it.”

He paused a moment, but had no problem with my request. “Sure, I’ll be right back,” he said. We did the transaction and I had no problems with the guy. I just politely asked him to move his car for me to proceed, and he did. No big deal.

I didn’t do that often. You could tell when the customer wouldn’t have listened to you anyway. But I looked at it as a service. Once, a guy got ticketed right out front and he didn’t notice. I was working at another location, with a more cramped parking lot. Likewise the curb lane was also narrower. It pissed me off when people parked in it, making it hard for others to get around, but it happened every day.

This guy pulled up, parked on the curb, and shopped around. I saw the parking control person outside the window, writing tickets. I laughed to myself. The customer was too busy looking for CDs to notice, even though his car was right out the window.

The parking control lady left a nice ticket on his windshield. The driver was in my store for about half an hour, and didn’t notice until he was done. I had to chuckle. That’s what happens when you’re a Richard Parker.