RECORD STORE TALES Part 312: Β Reader Poll – Coming to a Close
Folks,
Sharing my Record Store TalesΒ with you these past two years has been something Iβve wanted to do for a long time. It took me years to finally start publishingΒ them, but all good things must come to an end. The seemingly bottomless well of Record Store Tales is now almost dry. Iβve plundered papers, hard drives, journals, photos and memories, but it was inevitable that eventually Iβd run out of good stories to tell.
Sure, there will always be an occasion when I say, βThat reminds me of a Record Store Tale!β and Iβm inspired to write some new content based on those memories. When that happens, Iβll 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. Β 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, itβll just be from the other side of the counter.
The problem isβ¦I donβt have a title.
βRecord Store Talesβ andβ¦what? βPost-Record Store Talesβ? βRecord Store Tales: The Next Generationβ? βRecord Store Tales: The Other Side of the Counterβ?
I invite you to come up with better titles than these. Submit ideas in comments below. There are no guarantees Iβll use your suggestion, but if I like it, you can be the person who names the next chapter of my story.
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: Β Another batch of semi-embarrassing photos of a much younger and thinner LeBrain. Β These are from a party circa 2003 or so. Β I can’t remember the names of anybody in these photos except one, which isΒ JesseΒ Villemaire (last photo), the owner of Thrive tattoo studios in Cambridge. Β 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: Β The Marillion Shirt.
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! Β Some are good, some are shite, some aren’t even the real logo! Β 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.
Penmanship: something we all learned in school, forgot, and donβt think about anymore due to the advent of the computer. Very few jobs today require good penmanship. What might surprise you is how important penmanship was in the CD store days.
In the early days, buying and selling used CDs, we maintained a manual log. Every CD we bought was logged, along with the sellerβs name and identification. Every CD had to be named. We couldnβt just write down β15 CDsβ. You had to write down each title. βPuff Daddy β No Way Outβ, βDance Mix β96β, βTitanic OSTβ (original soundtrack), and so on.
One of my staffΒ had very, very βgirlyβ writing. You know what I mean β each letter looks like a balloon animal. It was mostly readable, but apparently not to the police detective who used to collect our log books.
βCan you read this?β he would ask me, trying to make a point. βCan you please tell this person to print legibly?β
βWell, I did speak to her about this a few times. Thatβs her handwriting, thatβs about as neat as it will get. She really is trying.β The detective was not happy.
One afternoon, he called me, really pissed off. He had absolutely had it with the bubbly balloon writing. He asked me to read off every single title that this person had written down in the log. Admittedly there were a couple that I could not make out. He went through this exercise largely just to make his point.Β Β He did it again the following week. He picked the longest page from the log book that he could find, and I painstakingly read every title to him, one by one.
βAre you sure about that last title?β he would interrupt. βYou say it says βMetallicaβ? Thatβs an M?β
Then a week later, we went through the same exercise again. He made his point. Eventually we switched to a computerized log system, which they had been pushing us to do for a while. That at least ended the long phone calls with the detective, trying to read the girly balloon letters.
My own handwriting is pretty shit, but according to him it wasΒ better than big balloon letters!
RECORD STORE TALES PART 308: Β 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: Β the cottage.
I’d pack a dozen or so CDs (tapes in the early days) and go on long walks with my Discman. Β Eat some steaks. Β Check out the water, rivers and funky bridges. Β The phone never rang. Β Heck in the early days there were no phones here. Β 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. Β 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. Β I hope this gives you a taste. Β Enjoy
I can only say so much about this subject,Β 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 Motherβs 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.
βMike!βΒ laughed Cam. βWhat are you wearing a suit for? You look like youβre the one on trial!β 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 didnβt look like a lawyer.
βI thought you had to wear a suit to court,β I said in ignorance.
Without going into details, hereβs what I remember:
– Cam got a parking ticket because there wasnβt 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 didnβt 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 couldnβt 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 wasnβt 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.
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. Β Many songs that were new to me were quickly becoming favourites: the new-to-CD live version of “What You’re Doing”. Β The silly but instantly likable “The Trees”. Β Most of all though, “Red Sector A” from Grace Under Pressure. Β 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.
RECORD STORE TALES Part 305: Β The Return of the Wiseman
Seeing Wiseman at Sausagefest XIII brought back a flood of memories. Β Some I can share, some I definitely cannot! Β 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. Β Nice guy, smart too, but when he tied one on, he didn’t do it in half-measures. Β Partying for him was the full Monty. Β So here are two things I remembered about the guy:
1.Bacontinis. Β Like a Martini, but with bacon instead of olives. Β Count on Wiseman to try something like this, years and years before the current bacon trends. Β Now people are trying bacon in everything, thanks to people like Epic Meal Time. Β Wiseman was way ahead of the times when it came to alcoholic beverages.
2. Christmas. Β I was scheduled to work the evening shift on December 23, with Wiseman. Β He initially wanted the night off, because he had a “Christmas party” to attend. Β Getting the night off wasn’t possible due to scheduling, so he came to his shift fully prepared to party afterwards. Β 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. Β I kid you not. Β 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. Β It’s comforting to know he’s still out there, bringing the party wherever he goes.
RECORD STORE TALES Part 304: The Richard Parker Files
Donβt you hate it when you see an able-bodied driver flagrantly park his or her vehicle in a no-parking zone? Thatβs one that drives me nuts. For example, at one of the local malls, youβll 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 itβs just the asshole in me, but I didnβt like to see that in the Record Store Days. Once in a while, I wouldnβt 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.
βHi. How are you? I want to sell these,β he said.
βSure!β I said with a broad smile. βWhy donβt you go and move your car to a parking spot, and Iβll get right on it.β
He paused a moment, but had no problem with my request. βSure, Iβll be right back,β 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 didnβt do that often. You could tell when the customer wouldnβt have listened to you anyway. But I looked at it as a service. Once, a guy got ticketed right out front and he didnβt 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 didnβt notice until he was done. I had to chuckle. Thatβs what happens when youβre a Richard Parker.
In the 1990βs, stealing CDs and selling them to a pawn shop or a used CD store was a fairly common way for thieves to make some money.Β Today I doubt it happens at the levels I saw in the 1990βs.Β You just canβt get as much for a CD today, not even close.
I had seen too many people lose valuable music to theft, and never get the discs back. Β I received many visits and phone calls from upset customers, hoping that someone had soldΒ their stolen discs to me. Β But a lot of thieves were too smart to sell them in town.Β Theyβd go somewhere else to sell them, assuming that theyβd be harder to catch then.Β Β When somebody lost dozens of CDs in a break-in, they would call all the used stores in town.Β βIf you see a guy bringing in a huge collection of Jazz box sets, including about a dozen Miles Davis remasters, call me.β
It was always best if you could somehow identify your collection.Β Jazz box sets and Miles remasters (for example) would be easy to spot.Β If somebody else called and said, βSomebody stole all my rock CDsβ¦I had Stone Temple Pilots, Korn,Β Creed,Β Days of the Newβ¦β well, there wasnβt much hope.Β These are titles that we often saw, probably every single day.Β If you could somehow mark the discs as your property, howeverβ¦
Different people used different methods.Β In 1995, I got a call from a guy who worked at the downtown Dr. Disc.Β His collection had been stolen.Β He marked his discs in a unique way.Β He placed a strip of tinfoil underneath the CD tray.Β If somebody came in to sell a hundred CDs and they all had tinfoil under the tray, thereβs your guilty party.
Most people, who didnβt care about the packaging or condition of their discs so much, would just write their name inside.Β Either on the booklet, the inner tray, or the front cover.Β I could never deface my music like that, and neither could T-Rev.Β He came up with his own method.Β Rather than mark the CD packaging itself, he wrote his initials on a tiny red sticker, and placed that somewhere unobtrusively on the CD.Β If he ever wanted to remove it, he could do so without wrecking anything.
Tom didnβt share our βno permanent marksβ philosophy. He embossed the front covers of his discs with a press that imprinted his initials on the front cover.Β Tom gave me a couple CDs once β his initials always bothered me.Β When I had the chance to swap covers with a copy that was in better condition, I did.Β Tom tells me he doesnβt emboss his CDs anymore. Β I’m glad he came to his senses.
T-Rev and I both have had CDs stolen, unfortunately.Β Both of us had our vehicles broken into.Β T-Rev never recovered the handful of discs that were in his Jeep. (I remember that one was the excellent Barstool Prophets albums Last of the Big Game Hunters.) Β They never showed up, anywhere in town.Β As for me, I only lost one disc β Fishβs 1998 compilation Kettle of Fish, which was inside my Discman (also stolen).Β They didnβt take the CD case.Β I imagine they probably threw out the CD; chances are these thieves would not enjoy the subtle sounds of Derek William Dick. Β At that time, the album was not available in Canada, and I believe I had to order it directly from the official Fish site in the UK to replace it. Β That cost me about $30, to replace a CD that I originally paid $7.99 for. Β That was not a good day.
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