Working in a retail environment with the public exposes one to a variety of interesting smells. 90% of customers didn’t have a particular smell to them. They were pretty inoffensive. However, about 10% of customers did have distinct odors. Here are the Top Five things that customers in my store smelled like:
4% – Weed
If I had to break it down, I would say the majority of customers that smelled like marijuana were shopping in the rap section. The red bleary eyes were also a giveaway, but some of these kids just reeked of pot! Didn’t matter if it was 10am and they were selling their CDs to buy another dime bag, or if it was 7pm and they were looking for fast food money. They were omnipresent.
3% – Booze
I’m only hoping that the customers who had booze stench on their breath were not driving. (At the end, I worked on the “wrong side of town,” many of my customers could not drive anyway.) Never mind the fact that some people would be coming in piss drunk at noon on a Wednesday.
1% – B.O.
The dreaded body odor stink afflicted men and women alike. The only thing they had in common: customers with B.O. were always oblivious to it themselves, even though my eyes were watering. Many times these guys were construction workers on break, but not always!
1% – Really strong perfume or cologne
I had a few customers who were used car salesmen. Apart from impeccably trimmed moustaches, they often wore too much Drakkar Noir. There were also plenty of women that smelled so strong you couldn’t breathe.
1% – Bad breath
Halitosis isn’t fun. Some of the people who knocked me out with their breath looked like their teeth weren’t doing so well either, particularly at the stores located on the wrong side of the tracks!
RECORD STORE TALES Part 251: Punched In the Teeth By Love
Back in December of 1991, an old M.E.A.T Magazine article on Motley Crue revealed a cool little nugget of an exclusive. Motley were promoting their first “greatest hits” CD, Decade of Decadence. Like any good official compilation album should, it contained three brand new songs. They were heavier, alluding to an evolution in direction for Motley Crue. However there was a fourth new song that didn’t make the cut:
It always disappointed me that since Vince Neil left the Crue in early ’92, that song title never appeared on their next album. Too bad, I thought. Something about the title jumped out at me; I was looking forward to hearing the song, but it never came out. Bummer. Especially since I did indeed get “punched in the teeth by love” (figuratively) and been knocked out a couple times. But you could never keep me down for the count, I always bounced back.
Any time I broke up with some girl back then, I’d always tell the guys at the record store the same thing. “Man, I need to write a song called ‘Punch In the Teeth By Love’!” I figured, since Motley Crue hadn’t used it, the title was up for grabs! I threw some words and a rudimentary riff/melody together as a joke but it never went beyond that. It always generated a few laughs though, and laughing at work is healthy, especially when you’ve been punched in the teeth by love.
Of course later on (1997) Vince Neil did rejoin Motley Crue. Later still, after Tommy Lee quit the group acrimoniously, they released possibly their worst ever album New Tattoo (2000). Interestingly, that album’s track #7 was called “Punched In the Teeth By Love”!
I don’t presume this to be the exact song that would have come out in 1991, since Randy Castillo (Tommy Lee’s replacement) is credited as a writer. Maybe the lyrics are recycled, maybe just the title, whatever: it doesn’t matter. Finally “Punched In the Teeth By Love” surfaced and as hoped it was one of the heaviest songs. The riff was pretty generic, but Mick Mars’ guitar work is impressive. I’ve always felt Mick has grown as a guitar player tremendously, especially since Dr. Feelgood. It’s certainly not the greatest song, but it rocks hard enough and has a cool gang vocal chorus, so I’ll give it a B or a B+.
It was considered to be worthy of the concert setlist in 2000 (Samantha Maloney on drums now, filling in for the terminally ill Randy Castillo). It was played only on that tour though, and it was not included on any Crue compilation since then, including the double Red, White & Crue. So I’d like to bring your attention back to this track, a pretty good if not great dirty little Motley Crue song: “Punched In the Teeth By Love”!
I decided to do something special for Part 250…by not doing Part 250 at all.
This isn’t one of those bullshit prequels, like when George Lucas says, “Oh, Episode I, I had that written for decades,” when it was pretty obvious he was making it up as he went along! Nope, this isn’t like that. I started writing the Record Store Tales over 10 years ago, and what you see below is the original first chapter. It existed solely for the purpose of background and context, but I excised it in favour of starting things faster with the second chapter,“Run To The Hills”. Since that became Part 1, it makes sense that this earlier introduction should be Part 0. With hindight, I kind of wished I’d kept it in, so here it is! And don’t forget to check out my new complete Table of Contents, should you wish to read more!
Yeah…don’t ask. That’s me on the right.
A Few Words for Days Gone By…
What is childhood made of? In my mind, when you’re a kid, life consists of two things:
1. School
2. Summer Holidays
That was the cycle. To break it down to the core, to an 11 year old life was 10 months of school followed by two months of glorious, warm sunny freedom. Sure, you’d get to go home at the end of the day, but you were never truly free until the end of June. No more pencils, no more books, all that stuff. It was way better than Christmas holidays. The Canadian winters offered such fun treats as shoveling, besides snow pants, parka, boots (laced up too tight), and mittens which prevented you from using your fingers.
Our summers were boisterous. My sister Kathryn and I were like peas in a pod. We would play some kind of game every day, usually under my leadership. I would declare that today, we were going to play Star Wars. Other possible declarations included building fleets of Lego ships and cars, and having a giant war. Or inventing a new ball game. Once GI Joe came along, we’d dig trenches in the yard, as well as forts and garages of twigs and leaves, and have an entire day (or week) dedicated to Cobra Commander’s new secret weapon. Aside from an occasional rebellion from my sister, our summers were mostly uninterrupted merriment.
My sister and I both clearly remember one such rebellion, where she wanted to do things her way. It involved our Star Wars figures. We were already mid-battle. I was setting up a perfect counter-offensive. The Millenium Falcon would sneak attack Vader’s base, take out his Tie Fighter early in the melee, while Luke would take out Boba Fett. Leia and Lando had to distract Jabba The Hutt, so that he couldn’t stop Luke when he eventually confronted the Emperor. Game over! The plan was perfect. Now I just needed my sister to coordinate the battle with me, under my command of course.
Much to my disappointment, she had moved around some of the figures and now had them seated. Luke and Vader were next to each other. “Why are Luke and Vader sitting there? Luke is about to attack and Vader should be getting into his ship.”
My sister continued playing with the figures, and without looking up, replied, “Luke and Vader want to be friends now. They’re having tea.”
It didn’t matter that half the figures were hers, if she didn’t know how to play Star Wars right. So I’d yell a bit, act like a big brother usually does, and eventually she’d go along with the plan, or cry and leave. The evil Empire would be defeated once and for all, thanks to my brilliant leadership and strategy. We were definitely pals, growing up.
For years, this was the way of the summer holidays. We’d be doing something awesome at home, or at the cottage, but it would always be something cool. It didn’t matter where we were: games continued wherever we went. We’d make a game out of anything. You give us a pile of junk and we’ll make a game out of it.
All things do come to an end. The Star Wars trilogy ended in 1983 and something needed to fill the vacuum. While GI Joe and later Transformers would temporarily take its place, I was getting older. My attention was drifting. I was looking for something cool, new, and exciting. Video games didn’t hold my attention and neither did sports.
Starting in 1983, several things happened in a short time frame. Styx released a single called “Mr. Roboto” that some of my friends at school were obsessed with. Then I heard a song called “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” by AC/DC, and it was pretty cool too. Then, a newer band called Quiet Riot came out with an album called Metal Health that would go on to sell three million copies. This was my first rock cassette purchase when I was in the 6th grade. Something connected…
AC/DC. Van Halen. Ozzy Osbourne. Black Sabbath. Def Leppard. Motley Crue. Iron Maiden. Who were these people? I had a lot to find out.
“Mikey,” said Trevor one afternoon, “I’m talking to you as a friend. I know you don’t want to stay single forever. I’m only try to help you out, but…that style you’re rocking just isn’t working man.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. I thought I was actually dressed pretty cool.
shorts n’ docs
“Well,” Trevor continued, “You’re wearing Doc Marten boots with shorts and a Deep Purple T-shirt. It’s like you’re wearing three looks at once. What you need to do is focus on one look and go with it.”
I was shell-shocked. My Doc Marten boots were the bomb! Deep Purple rules!
“But the boots and shorts are kind of grunge, right? And that’s cool.” My counterargument was sound.
“Yeah but the Deep Purple shirt isn’t grunge. You see? Trust me Mikey. I’m just trying to look out for you. I’ll take you shopping, and after that, you re going to get tons of action!”
Tons of action! Right on. I’m in, T-Rev, say no more man!
True to his word, that Saturday, T-Rev picked me up and took me to the mall. And shop we did. Apparently Hawaiian was in. I picked up a Hawiian shirt and this cool burgundy velvety shirt. I also picked up a couple T-shirts to wear underneath, and a beaded necklace which also was apparently in at the time. That night, Trevor’s lovely then-girlfriend now-wife Michelle threw him a birthday party and I was able to give the burgundy shirt a test-run in a social environment. While I did not see any “action”, the feedback was positive. I have to say that I rocked the look really well and received numerous compliments.
Unfortunately, this kicked off a shirt addiction. Yes, you read that correctly. I had a flirtation with shirt addiction that lasted a couple years. Next I bought an expensive black shirt with cool ridges at a place called Caesar’s Closet in Cambridge. Then another burgundy shirt, even more velvety. Then a black one with sparkles in it. (That was my favourite, it later got recycled into my Paul Stanley Halloween costume.) Two with flames. One with guitars. One with dice. One that was shiny like a foil-wrapped baked potato, and many many more. My bosses may have thought I’d lost my mind, as I showed up at the record store in more and more outlandish shirts. I ended up with at least two dozen in my collection.
When I wore the silver baked potato shirt to work one day, one of my bosses was nearly blinded by it. “Mike! That’s a shirt for clubbing!” Well, probably, but working in a record store gave me a certain amount of leeway that other jobs didn’t have. I guess I wanted to have fun while I was young!
My “shirts phase” lasted a couple years before it finally faded away. The obsession was excessive though. One cottage weekend I packed 7 shirts for a 2 day stay. By the end of it, I had even written a movie outline for a horror comedy film titled “The Shirt”. The premise:
A cursed Hawaiian shirt finds its way into a clueless vacationer’s luggage. The shirt kills those who wear it by strangulation; it can also possess the minds of those it has an affinity for. Putting on the shirt could get you killed, or possessed — or both! The evil shirt’s only weakness is bleach.
I’m hoping to get James Franco interested in playing the main character, the guy who makes it to the end of the movie.
Surprisingly few photos remain of my expansive shirt collection. Perhaps that is a good thing.
MoreSHIRTS at mikeladano.com:
Record Store Tales Part 86: Captain Gold Shirt
There’s been some Van Hagar bashing recently here at mikeladano.com. First there was this, and then this…some strong language here and there as well. Seems that “Hagar Bashing” has been a hobby for me for a long time. Witness this nearly decade old record store journal entry that I found.
Date: 2004/08/26 10:03
Someone should pass a law preventing Sammy Hagar from singing any old classic DLR tunes. “I got my ass against the record machine”??? Fuck you Sammy, go drink your tequila.
I kind of like that, I wish I’d worked that into my Best of Both Worlds review. “Fuck you Sammy, go drink your tequila!” I’m sure that would be considered a very professional review! Speaking of which, apparently I wasn’t too impressed with a review that I read in Bass Guitar magazine, judging by the journal entry below.
Date: 2004/08/25 00:25
I hate reading an article in a magazine, and realizing I could have done a better job than the guy who gets paid all that cash for being in a big glossy. I am reading a bass magazine, and there’s an article on Van Halen. They’re talking about how consistent Michael Anthony’s sound and style has been, and continues to be on the three new songs.
Well, if the writer had bothered doing any checking, he would have seen that Anthony doesn’t play bass on the three new songs. He in fact has nothing to do with the new album whatsoever. I would have known that, not made a mistake in the article, and in addition asked Anthony about it in the interview! I could have done a better job than this pro…and I wouldn’t even ask for a dime!
And I still haven’t made a dime! Goal achieved.
Legend has it that Sammy Hagar liked this song even though Thelonious Monster meant it to be insulting.
I never forgot this one, but I’ll let my journal tell the story from the perspective of “then”…
Date: 2004/08/12 21:36
Today sucked ass.
First of all, they installed this router at work, so we can’t use anything but the 10 sites they prescribe. Everything else is off limits. So, no more Google at work. Fuckers.
OH! By the way, I’m in a real bad mood.
This girl comes in. Friend of Matt’s. She’s a totally unpleasant human being. She wanted to exchange a Deftones import she bought a month ago. [The CD was Deftones Live (1998) which was pretty rare.] Our exchange policy is seven days, it says so on the receipt. We’ll stretch it to 14 without a hassle, but not over a month, even if you’re the friggin’ Pope.
She gave me a real hard time about this. I’m thinking, “what, you live in Asia? You can’t get here, or even call here, within seven days? You bought a CD you didn’t like, so suck it up. You even previewed it before you bought it (don’t think I forgot that tried it out, at length, in the store beforehand), and you still bought it. THEN you decided you didn’t like it. Fuck you.” That’s what I’m thinking. What I’m saying is something completely different, about how I can’t really accept a return after this length of time under these circumstances.
She said, “Do you treat everyone this way?”
Yes, I treat everyone the same: by the fucking rules. I don’t give anyone special treatment, especially when they try to push me around, like you are doing.
You know, I’m getting so pissed, I can’t even finish.
I can finish now, though. I remember the very next thing she said was, “When is Matt working?” In other words, I’ll return this CD when my friend is working, not you. I explained to her that Matt wouldn’t exchange the CD, because I was Matt’s boss. She was with her mom, and even her mom told her to drop it and accept the situation.
I also remember that she never came in again, which in my view was a good thing. She rarely bought anything that she didn’t return, and she made us run around like chickens with our heads cut off, serving her Royal Majesty. Yeah, I didn’t miss her at all. In fact I even pre-emptively went to my bosses and said, “If you get a phone call complaining about me, this is what happened.” I explained what I did and why I did it and for once, they actually took my side.
Her Royal Majesty was just reason #10,137 for me to move on from retail.
One of our best customers at the original store was Dancing Steve. I’ll get to why he’s named Dancing Steve in a minute, but I first met Steve when I started at the store. Steve would come in or call looking for various cassettes (never CDs), and put them on hold until he had $150 or $200 worth, and buy them all in one shot. That’s just how Steve rolled. Normally we would never stockpile so much inventory for a customer for so long, but Steve spent so much money and was so pleasant that it was a special arrangement just for him.
Steve would call looking for songs. I can remember putting a Gina Vannelli tape on hold for Steve, and I also remember him looking for Rod Stewart’s then-recent song “This”. I found that song on Rod’s latest, the excellent A Spanner in the Works. It was always so nice dealing with him, he was so friendly, and even if we didn’t see him for two months at a time, he was uber-reliable.
I knew Steve was a hockey fan as he would often wear a Kitchener Rangers hat or jacket. What I did not know was that Steve was legendary among Rangers fans! Steve often wrote (and I think he occasionally still does) long letters to the editor of the local newspaper, cheering on our Rangers and offering his strategic advice.
T-Rev and I found ourselves at a Rangers game one weekend. I don’t remember the circumstances. We may have got the tickets for free, but neither of us were particularly fans of the game back then. The Rangers scored, the crowd cheered! Then, T-Rev noticed some commotion in the seats of one corner of the auditorium. To our left and down was a man in a Rangers jacket and hat, dancing. It wasn’t a sophisticated dance, it was a bit of an awkward shuffle, in that big warm Rangers jacket. The crowd loved it, cheering him on! It was none other than Steve, our Steve. I found out his actual nickname in town was Dancing Steve, because he had seasons tickets and rarely missed a game. Steve would get up and dance any time something good happened: a goal, a power play, whatever!
To this day, I feel cool that a local legend like Dancing Steve was one of our earliest, most loyal customers. In fact we didn’t lose Steve until 1997, when we discontinued carrying cassettes. Steve didn’t make the transition over to CD. He was crushed when T-Rev had to tell him we weren’t going to be selling tapes anymore.
I have been to a couple Rangers game since, but not seen Steve. I know he still goes though, as I’ve heard tell that Dancing Steve dances on at the Aud. I would like to dedicate this chapter to Steve, an example of a jolly good fellow if there ever was one!
Even though ear piercings on men at the record store were against our backwards “body piercing policy”, I thought for years about getting my ears pierced. Thought about it, never really did anything about it. This inaction went way back, even in highschool I just never got my ears pieced. I came close on summer holidays after graduation. Today, My Favourite Aunt still blames me for the day my cousin came home with his ear pierced. It happened like this…
Bob, myself, cousin – 1991
Summer holidays ’91, my cousin was visiting from Calgary, Alberta. By coincidence, my friend Bob had decided to spend a few days at our cottage with the whole family, which was cool by me. Bob was like family. My cousin liked to be active. He was never the type to sit quietly. Or do anything quietly.
He kept telling us that wanted to get his ear pierced. We decided, “Hey, why don’t we all drive into town, and the three of us get our ears pierced?” We found a hair salon on Queen Street in Kincardine, Ontario called The Clan that did ears (gun-style). Somehow, on the way there, Bob chickened out. He said, “You know, I’m starting my new job next week. I don’t think I want to go in there with an earring on my first day.”
“Are you…what are you saying?” I asked.
“I’m not getting it done. You can get yours, but I can’t go to a new job like that.” Bob was standing firm.
Feeling my backbone melt away, I said, “I’m not doing it either.”
“WHAT?!” Bob and my cousin both said in unison. “You’re chickening out?”
“I’m not chickening out!” I protested. “We all agreed to do it. If Bob’s not doing it I don’t have to either.”
My resilient cousin said, “I’m still doing it.” True to his word, he did. The crap hit the fan when we got back to the cottage. Why was he the only one with his ear pierced? The questions came fast and furious. I was accused of “tricking him” and “suckering him in”. But I didn’t trick anyone.
I simply chickened out.
I still thought about getting an ear piercing, on and off, but the point was moot since the record store did not allow piercings on men. Obviously this policy couldn’t stand forever or they’d never be able to hire anybody. Finally after much petitioning and complaining by many, the day came when they changed their policies regarding earrings on men.
I knew the only person who would still give me a hard time about an earring would be my dad. Sometimes people would ask me, “Why don’t you get an ear piercing?” and I’d usually respond, “Because my dad’s retired and I don’t want to give him a heart attack.”
My friend Shannon promised to help me to soften the blow. She accompanied me to Tora Tattoo in Waterloo, where the young lady there (Shelley) pierced both lobes with 10 gauge rings. I was pretty happy with the results. My dad was not. Upon entering the house, his only words to me were:
RECORD STORE TALES Part 244: Diary of a Mad Record Store Man
I’d like to share with you a selection of entries, verbatim from my journal in 2005. Here’s a snapshot of Record Store Life, November 2005, one month before quitting the store.
Date: 2005/11/04 10:35
PLAYING IN CAR:
Fu Manchu – King Of The Road
I was just thinking today how much I hate bars. I haven’t been to a bar in a year. Last time I went, a bunch of jocks wanted to kick my ass because they thought I looked “gay”. (With my Motörhead shirt on?)
Also thinking about how rude some customers can be. Like it is MY fault that they have to pawn their shit to buy crack.
Date: 2005/11/04 11:59
Today has been very annoying thus far.
People are idiots sometimes, and people rarely seem to listen. And while I’m working away here among the idiots, the Hives are singing, “Walk Idiot Walk”. Very nice.
Oakville tomorrow…yeah…not hyped for that, either.
Date: 2005/11/15 07:29
I have 3 hours to clean my apartment before my parents arrive.
Date: 2005/11/22 19:51
What goes up must come down.
– I spilled candle wax all over my brand new rug (only 6 days old).
– The trunk of my car has a leak, water has ruined a few items inside.
– I have no money.
– I have a total of three days off in the entire month of December
Date: 2005/11/24 19:39
With this new beard, people have taken to calling me either “Ewen” or “Señor Speilbergo”. I’m fine with either name.
Date: 2005/11/25 11:05
Just because you are spending hundreds of dollars in my store does NOT make me your bitch.
Date: 2005/11/26 17:56
There’s this dude in my store that looks exactly like a short Sean Astin.
Except I’m not really sure, maybe Sean Astin is short anyways? I mean, he’s a hobbit, right?
Since I abandoned chronological order shortly after Part 10, everything’s been scattershot since. This story takes place a month before the events inPart 102: Dumped in Barrie. It features she who dumped me in Barrie, as well as friends fromPart 64: Niagara Falls, and the title character fromPart 155: Sarge. Got all that?
Sweet Pepper & Sarge
Lemon Kurri & Sweet Pepper
Sarge’s boots
RECORD STORE TALES Part 243: Return to Niagara Falls
A cold Saturday morning, JJJulie and I headed down to St. Catharines, Ontario. The purpose of our visit was to hang out with our Record Store friends in The Legendary Klopeks, and Sarge, who had flown in from Bournemouth, England! Sarge was an imposing figure, with steampunk top hat and platform boots. We’d been communicating online for a while and we were all looking forward to his visit. He ended up helping the Klopeks book some gigs overseas later.
Lemon Kurri Klopek, you may remember, co-owned one of our stores. JJJulie and I rendezvoused with him at his store, where I spent some money. (Astute readers will realize that for me to buy a CD from Lemon Kurri, a franchisee, was against the rules! We had some pretty stupid rules.)
The lot of us grabbed some fancy dinner together, a motley crew of tattoos, piercings, leather, and rock and roll. Although we spent a lot of money and were nothing but polite, our appearances were apparently too much for the upscale restaurant folk. We were given our bills and pointedly not asked if we wanted to order from the dessert menu.
We fit in much better later on at a bar in St. Catharines, where Sarge presided regaling us with stories about Lemmy from Motorhead and others. I normally don’t like bars, but everybody seemed to know everybody there. Sarge then presented me a Motorhead tour shirt, a gift I still have (although packed away in a box). We had a pretty solid time, and the place was mostly empty so my crowd phobia didn’t really kick in.
The Rockmobile
The following day, Sunday, we took a trip across the border to do some shopping. We all piled into Lemon Kurri Klopek’s Rockmobile. There was some kind of outlet mall in Niagara Falls, USA that was supposed to be pretty cool. JJJulie wanted to buy shoes (whoop-de-do!) but I was told there were a couple good toy stores there.
At K.B. Toys I found the Star Wars Game of Life for $9.99, which I still have. That was a score. I kept it sealed. At that price I should have bought a second one and sold it or given it away as a gift. But that wasn’t the only mistake I made on that trip. A further stop at a US record store turned up a find that I didn’t know existed.
I’m admittedly not a fan of the Alice Cooper Brutal Planet period. I am however a completist, so I was still interested when I saw a Brutally Live CD/DVD combo pack. We had the DVD in Canada, but not the CD, and CD is still my primary format. It was $25, and I decided to pass on it simply because I knew I wasn’t going to play it that often.
Maintaining a balance between “I won’t play it that often” and “I still want it for the collection” is tricky sometimes, and erring on the side of budget, I decided to pass on the Brutally Live set for the moment. As soon as I got back home and checked online, I regretted that decision. I couldn’t get it from any Canadian sellers and buying from an American one was going to cost me at least $35. (Happy ending: About five years down the road, it was released in Canada at a budget price! I have it now.)
My Star Wars Game of Life was a good score. On eBay, there’s one (not sealed like mine) going for $25.99 (buy it now). There are none on eBay that are unopened at the time of this writing. I think I’ll hang onto mine and wait for the release of Episode VII to sell!
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