Miserable at the record store, and mere weeks away from giving my notice, I still somehow managed to swing Thanksgiving weekend off. The family tradition back then was Thanksgiving at the cottage with my aunt and uncle, grandma and sister. Complicating things for me this Thanksgiving was that I had started dating Jen, the future Mrs. LeBrain. She was alone that weekend, because her parents were spending Thanksgiving in Ottawa. I felt that she was somebody special, and I wanted to somehow have Thanksgiving with her, but also my family. The only catch was that we’d been together less than a month, and she’d never met anybody from my family before. Ever.
As this story is a bit of an indictment against myself, I’ll let her take it from here.
LeBrain told me that his parents and his sister would be staying in this peaceful cabin by the lake. He didn’t tell me about anyone else. It had been a long time since I met a suitor’s parents. A sister too? Well that was uncharted territory to say the least.
As we approached the cottage through the woods, my anxiety started to increase. The car stopped and my heart began beating in my throat as I looked into the cottage’s big front window.
Mike’s mom and dad, sister, and her boyfriend were waiting at the window! So were his aunt, uncle, grandmother, and the disapproving family dog!
After introductions, Mike walked me to his bedroom where I’d be staying while he was sleeping on the couch. The door closed behind me, and what I saw on the wall was a vision to haunt me, and to one day tell our future grandchildren about. It was a gun rack, made with actual deer parts, holding a gun.
“Maybe this online dating thing is a bad idea!”
Gun rack given to me by my Grandfather
It’s only a pellet gun. Happy Thanksgiving, Canada!
One Saturday in 2002 after a long (8 hour +) shift at the record store, I went over to my friend Shannon’s house. Her next door neighbors were having a karaoke party that night and we were invited. I like karaoke, although Shannon warned me in advance that her friends didn’t have many songs I’d like. If any.
She was right. Among the Shania Twain, Meat Loaf and Grease songs were a few rockers, but her neighbors didn’t like rock. So I sat quietly and listened to some of the worst singing I’ve heard this side of Britney Spears. A little bit later on, another rocker guy showed up. For the life of me I cannot remember his name. (George? Gord? Gomer?) It doesn’t matter, because from that day forward he was known to us as Steve. Steve Perry.*
As soon as he walked in, long hair and pack of cigs in hand, I whispered to Shannon, “Does that guy not look like Steve Perry from Journey?”
Shannon turned and looked. Turned back. “Oh my God. He kind of does!”
Once Steve Perry showed up, we managed to get a little rock into the night. I dueted with him on “Jump” by Van Halen, but I was most excited to share the microphone with Steve on “Don’t Stop Believin'”. A picture was taken of this life changing moment. Incidentally, singing Journey songs in general is really, really hard! I don’t recommend it to the weak willed.
Microphone in one hand, pack of cigs in the other.
I sent the picture to My Favourite Aunt. “Doesn’t this guy look like Steve Perry?” I asked in the email.
She responded, “No. Steve Perry from Aerosmith is sexy. That guy doesn’t look anything like Steve Perry.”
I was a little ashamed that I had to explain the difference between Joe Perry and Steve Perry to my Aunt. She told me she didn’t know who Steve Perry was so she couldn’t offer her opinion on his doppelganger. However I remain convinced that my co-lead vocalist that night bore a passing resemblance to the rock great. Visually, not vocally. Vocally, “Steve” would have given Rebecca Black a run for her money.
Note: Shannon tells me that for some reason, she still remembers Steve Perry’s real name: Ed!
1987’s Wild in the Streets was one of the harder Helix albums to acquire on CD. Cassette and LP were no problem at all, but relatively few CDs were produced in comparison. In 1992 I found a used cassette, (at a filthy music store in Port Elgin, Ontario) which came in a neat glow-in-the-dark cassette shell. It was the only glow-in-the-dark cassette I’ve ever seen or owned. Cassettes being what they are, I later desired a more permanent copy, CD being my preferred medium. This proved frustratingly difficult to find, even after being hired at the record store in July 1994.
This was important to me, because Helix were my first rock concert, on the Wild in the Streets tour. Johnny Cash was my first concert, but I saw Helix in October of 1987 in the Center in the Square, with Haywire opening, and they were awesome. The album wasn’t one of their best, but it did have classics such as “Dream On”, “Kiss It Goodbye”, “She’s Too Tough” and the title track. That old cassette wasn’t going to last very many plays.
Once starting at the record store, I discovered that Capitol/EMI had long since deleted the album. Brian Vollmer was still years away from reprinting and selling the albums himself, so my only option was to find a used copy. Since we sold used CDs, I hoped that one would eventually float my way. In the meantime I checked the “H” section of every record store I could find. No luck. Years, I looked. Like a woe begotten sailor searching for Cthulhu and the lost city of R’lyeh, I sailed the seas of music, searching.
Our first store didn’t have a computer, just pens and paper. We worked without a computer for years. All of our CD orders and reservations were done manually, in binders and note books. We had several pages of used CD reservations: many people looking for copies of the Beatles’ Red and Blue albums, T-Rev looking for Saga and Steve Earle rarities, and my hunt for the elusive Helix CD. This system wasn’t very efficient, as you basically had to remember what albums people were looking for, and go and check the book for the person’s information. If you saw, for example, a Traveling Wilburys CD in stock, you’d check the book because you knew someone was waiting for it. It wasn’t an exact science but we did the best we could.
In 1996, when I was given my own store to manage, we finally got a computer! The software had a computerized reservation list. When you were entering new arrivals, you’d manually type in a title. So, “MOTLEY CRUE” – “DR. FEELGOOD”. A little note would pop up saying “reservation found”. You would then go to a different screen, find the person looking for the CD, write down their contact info, and delete the reservation. This system was extremely vulnerable to human error. They later refined it, making it smoother and more automated.
I entered my name in for Helix – Wild In the Streets right from the very beginning. With this new computerized system, I figured my chances of finding the CD had improved. Not so.
The months went by, the seasons changed, still no Helix. My friend Len, who was a customer I met via the store, put himself in reserve for the Helix CD as well. I would have had first dibs on it if it came in, but as time went on two or three more people added their names to the waiting list. The likelihood of everybody getting a copy was nil, considering the years that I had been working there and never seeing one. (In good enough condition, anyway.) There was always a hope that one day, a copy or two would float our way. Len eventually found a copy at another store and removed his name from our reservation list. I congratulated him on his excellent discovery. He refused to sell it to me, however, even though I offered him $15 which was more than he paid.
A few months later, Len stopped in for one of his regular shopping visits. A pawn shop named Cash Converters had opened up in our plaza, causing us a little bit of unwanted competition. They too bought and sold used CDs. Usually they took whatever crap we didn’t, but occasionally people brought their good stuff to Cash Converters first.
This time, Len had an exciting piece of news for me. “Do you still need Wild in the Streets?” he asked with a smile. “Because they have one at Cash Converters right now. 12 bucks.”
My eyes popped! Excitedly, I handed Len some cash and asked him to pick it up for me. He returned a couple minutes later, with my own personal copy of Wild in the Streets. Mission accomplished! Finally! It was in like-new condition. All it needed was a fresh jewel case, which I provided as soon as possible. That night I finally had the chance to hear the album, in CD quality sound.
That original CD was in my collection for a long time. In fact only recently did I find the Rock Candy remastered edition with expanded artwork and liner notes, used at Encore Records. I then handed my original to (former customer now friend) Aaron, which he received at Record Store Excursion 2013!
The lessons from this are two-fold:
1) When Record Store Guys befriend their customers, they get CDs out of the deal!
2)When customers befriend their Record Store Guys, they get CDs out of the deal!
One of the biggest thrills during the record store days was the last vacation I ever took from that place! I’ve always wanted to go to Eastern Canada, and see the ocean. I have always been drawn to the sea. I think this is because of my Italian side, it must be in my blood and DNA. We came to Canada in 1904 from Porto Empedocle, Sicily. It is a fishing village on the coast, and my great-grandfather Luigi owned a shop there around the turn of the century. My great-great grandfather Salvatore was from Amalfi, near Naples. If you ever see pictures of Amalfi, you might understand why I have always loved the sight of water.
In May 2002, I finally visited the beautiful province of Prince Edward Island. I got to see the ocean, the harbors and the lobster boats. We checked out a lot of cool sideroad shops, walked a lot of trails, and played with the vibrant red sand. We met some of the friendliest people we’d ever encountered. But there was no way I was leaving Prince Edward Island without doing three important things:
1. Eating lobster in some form every single day.
2. Visiting the Ripley’s Believe It Or Not Odditorium, one of only two in Canada.
Obviously, I had to pay my respects to the boyhood home of one of the greatest Canadians (# 13) and folk musicians of all time, Stompin’ Tom Connors. In the end, I accomplished all three of my goals. Of the five days I spent on the island, I had lobster on every one of them, even having the bizarre McLobster on one of those days. As an added bonus, I found an interesting piece of guitar-shaped folk art, made by a fellow named Keirras Jeffery, that I had to buy. It looks awesome on the wall.
Photos of Stompin’ Tom’s eponymous road are difficult to find online, so I proudly present to you a selection of my holiday snaps, May 2002.
Although by this time, 2004, I had become a jaded prick in the relationship game, I decided to give dating another shot. I met this girl from Cambridge named Amanda, nice girl, nothing wrong with her. It was quickly obvious however that it wasn’t working out. She liked Trailer Park Boys and had her own car which was a bonus. She just didn’t get my passion for the rock.
Back at that time I was already working on the Record Store Tales. In the original sequence of events, I was actually writing what was then supposed to be Part 13: Perspective. Most of the original Record Store Tales were excised, but the original Part 13 would have fit in between what became today’s Part 4 and Part 5. As I was home writing Part 13, Amanda was on MSN, wanting to chat. Even though my record store bosses regularly accused me of abusing MSN Messenger at work, I have never like it. I’m an email guy. I always found it annoying.
I told Amanda I was deep in a creative mode and I wanted to finish writing this chapter. She waited about 10 or 15 minutes before pestering. She was bored, but I was in the midst of what seemed like a multitude of musical and personal revelations. It was just one sign that she didn’t really get what I was about.
That weekend it snowed. I was working the Saturday, and after work she picked me up to go and get something to eat. I had just read an article about Yusef Islam, the former Cat Stevens, and how he was on a no-fly list in a world of post-911 paranoia. Two subjects I’m passionate about are music and politics. While I leave politics aside for LeBrain’s Blog, I do like to discuss issues in private. Making conversation, I asked her if she’d heard this story about Cat Stevens. She was irritable about having to drive in the snow, and didn’t answer. I quietly asked again, trying to thaw the personal ice a bit.
“Did you hear that story, about Cat Stevens?” I prodded.
“Actually, I don’t care,” she answered.
We went out to eat, but those words just ate away at me. She didn’t care. And music is the most important thing in my life. Who was I trying to fool? This wasn’t going to work out.
The next time we spoke, we agreed to part ways. She was pretty upset.
Looking back, the funny thing to me is the day when I was all wrapped up in the writing of the original Part 13. For all my bluster about being a “writer” and “an artist” working on “my story”, and pouring all my soul into it, Part 13 didn’t even make the cut in the end! Crappy writing is crappy writing and some would say I haven’t improved much since!
I put in just shy of 12 years at the record store. That’s a lot of time to work retail. If you’ve worked retail, you know what I’m talking about. If you haven’t, it has its ups and downs. The ups include discounts. The downs entail being abused by the general public on a daily basis.
I have a nice plaque around here somewhere, commemorating 7 years at the store. It was a pretty cool gift. It was a total surprise, how it happened. My boss phoned me out of the blue one day.
“Mike,” he said. “I need a list of the top 5 albums of all time. It’s for an article we’re doing.”
“Cool!” I responded eagerly. “But what are the parameters? Is it like rock, or all genres? Because that’s just a wide-open question.”
“Just what you think are the top albums of all time, that’s all I really need.”
Cool! I started work on it. I wanted to be objective, fair. If I were making a personalized list of a top 5, it would be easy, I know there would be some Kiss and Sabbath in there. I wanted to discount my own personal biases and try to be as open as possible for this particular list.
First of all, I chose The Wall. I admit that I chose this over Dark Side due to personal preference, also I think a double album like The Wall deserves many accolades. I obviously had to give respect to two of the greatest bands of all time, Led Zeppelin and The Beatles. I chose Zeppelin IV and Abbey Road. I really couldn’t choose a Zeppelin, so I went with IV as kind of a default answer. Abbey Road is arguably the most genius the Beatles ever were, so I could easily choose that over Sgt. Pepper’s.
OK, three down! Even though all three artists I chose were different from each other, they were all rock, so I needed to go outside that box. To represent country, I decided on Folson Prison by Johnny Cash. Were this a more personalized list, I would choose San Quentin, but I went with Folsom as it seems to be the best known.
I didn’t know what to pick last, so I went with a cop-out answer. Back In Black. What a weak, spineless choice! What am I a college student? Anyway, again I decided to be open and think about how many copies it sold, not about the many superior AC/DC albums.
I submitted my list. A month or two later, I was presented with this plaque! And these five albums were on the plaque! My boss had collected lists from a few of us who had been there a while, and given us custom made plaques, with the CDs and everything. It was really cool and I treasured mine for years.
I only wish he had worded his question differently! If I had known in advance what he was really asking (thus spoiling the surprise) I would have chosen these five:
5. Iron Maiden – Piece of Mind
4. Kiss – Alive
3. Kiss – Hotter Than Hell
2. Deep Purple – Fireball
1. Black Sabbath – Born Again
The original plaque is packed up in a box, as Mrs. LeBrain and I are planning a move to a bigger place. Here’s the five albums that made it onto the plaque though, at least all albums I proudly own. And because I don’t do anything small, I own them all in some kind of crazy deluxe box set. Enjoy.
It’s true. You may have a nickname at your favourite store that you don’t even know about! Maybe you’re known for your surly manner. Maybe you’re known for returning everything you buy, or a unique form of transportation. Whatever the case may be, here’s a selection of my favourite nicknames from the record store days!
In a previous chapter, I talked about my early online musical presence in 1994. Before creating the Record Store’s original online ads, I also got an early start to writing reviews. The early reviews weren’t very good, but I definitely tried. Unfortunately back then, there wasn’t much of an online audience for reading reviews of rare Motley Crue EPs!
I did make contact with a few other music fans and collectors in the area. One guy went by the online handle of “Silent Knight”, named after the classic 1980 Saga album. He seemed like a nice enough guy, although I soon learned that first impressions can be deceiving. He had a party at his house that I went to, and it was cool. I overlooked the fact that he was in his 30’s living in his parents’ house. I also overlooked his absolutely massive collection of porno videos. If I recall correct (and I think I do because the subject came up), the VHS tapes adorned one whole wall of their living room. Turns out Silent Knight was not just into watching, but also into making.
You can trust me when I say I was more interested in his record collection. He had a great batch of rarities, including some that I wanted. He invited me over for a recording session, where he taped me the classic Brian May & Friends EP, Star Fleet Project. He had this crazy blank tape with a metal shell. I don’t know what the tape was that I used anymore, but the tape that I chose was shite and the recording was almost unlistenable. However, I also recorded from him some Glass Tiger B-sides for my sister, Black Sabbath’s Seventh Star, and the immortal “Rodeo Song” by Showdown.
Silent Knight and I had a falling out after that. He made some antisemetic comments. I don’t know if he was serious or just trying to get a reaction. I decided to cut him loose, as I didn’t need that kind of negative personality in my circle of friends. Good thing I did. Turns out the guy was a total creep. I know, the guy with the wall of porn VHS tapes was a creep? Who could have predicted that?
Months and months later, some time in ’95, I started getting emails from somebody else new to the online world, but having learned my lesson I kept my distance. Later he asked me an odd question. “Hey, I heard you totally called the cops on somebody else that posts on these boards! That’s cool man! Who was it?”
I told him that he must have me confused with somebody else. Then he revealed himself to be none other than Silent Knight under another handle! Apparently, someone had called the cops on him regarding his Wall O’ Porn. I don’t know any details about what he had in the Wall O’ Porn (I really was not interested in checking out somebody’s porn collection) so I have no idea for what reason the cops would have been called, or by whom. He said I was his only “enemy” who had seen his collection, therefore I was his number one suspect for ratting him out to the cops. He was trying to get me to confess with his fake account. The funny thing is, even after he failed (since he had the wrong guy) he still thought it was me.
After I got over his baffling behaviour, my fury set in. I told him to leave me alone or someone would definitely be calling the cops. I blocked him on every email I had and never heard from him again.
And just a few weeks ago, I finally got a proper listenable copy of Star Fleet Project on vinyl. Suck on it, Silent Knight!
I has been a long time since I’ve had to answer the phone at the record store. As long as it’s been, sometimes I still find myself answering my phone at work, and it just happens: “Good afternoon, [name of record store].” I’ve stumbled over that a couple times before realizing what I’ve said!
Every time it happens (like today), it takes me right back in time! The memories flood in all at once.
There were several ways we were supposed to answer the phones at the record store. “Good afternoon, [name of store]” was the main one. Our boss used to answer the phone with “good afternoon” no matter what time it was. 10 am: “good afternoon”. 8 pm: “good afternoon”. I used to tease him about that.
Later on when we got more locations, we changed the phone greeting to, “Good afternoon, [name of store], [address of store].” This was done for customers who were too confused to figure out which location they had just dialed. Although that didn’t stop one guy, who went on an extended cuss-infested tirade because I didn’t have his special order…even though he called the wrong store! You can’t fix stupid. (This story was recounted back in Part 104: A Nightmare on Cocknuckles Street.)
At Christmas we’d do other variations of the greeting. I personally enjoyed “Merry Christmas, [name of store]” because I for one don’t like “Happy Holidays”. The name of the date on the calendar is Christmas, whether you celebrate it or not, you still get a stat holiday like everyone else. Happy Holidays my arse.
Tom came up with a few interesting greetings. “Happy Ho Ho, [name of store]” was a good one. Another time he answered “[Name of store], Santa’s little rock shop.” He tried to have fun with it.
Still, the worst answering of the phone that ever happened was on my watch. It was a busy night, and some kid asked to use the phone for a moment. We usually obliged such requests, instructing the person to be quick. Well I turned my back for a moment on this kid, and next thing I knew he had walked halfway across the store with the phone and was having a whole conversation. I made my way out to retrieve the phone, but it was too late. The kid had a “call waiting” and answered the store phone for us.
“Hello? Uhhh, hold on.” Then he finally acknowledged me. “It’s for you.”
10 years ago my online handle was “Purpendicular.” (Gee, where did I get that name from?) “Purp” made a good short-form nickname. For whatever reason…and believe me I wish I could remember…Sarge decided to make and give out 40 or 50 “Purp Ate My Balls” shirts! He gave them to all his shop employees (Metal Fatigue in Bournemouth) and I’m pretty sure all the Klopeks ended up with them too.
I wish I had the photo gallery, but Sarge used to have pictures of all those people wearing my face on their shirts and doing the “Purp” face. It was a mini-phenomenon at the time, but all I have left is Sarge.
For obvious reasons, I was not allowed to wear this shirt to work. I do still have mine though, packed away in storage. I wonder how many more are still out there? I often wonder if people in Bournemouth, Brighton, Niagara Falls and beyond still wear their “Purp”?
mikeladano.com 