Record Store Tales

Part 42: The Barefoot DJ

RECORD STORE TALES Part 42: The Barefoot DJ

We had one regular at the store, Barefoot DJ.  He used to come in and say, “Do you have that song, Mistadobalina? Mr. Bob Dobalina?”  With no shoes.  Every time.  He said he had a foot disease that made his feet feel like they’re on fire.  Therefore, he could’t wear shoes.  So I said, wear flip flops.  I had to kick him out so many damn times!  He said he filed a report with human rights, all that stuff.  It was an insurance thing.  If the guy cut his foot on a broken CD case shard, we get sued.

The problem is, there were some discs that were just hard to find and Del tha Funkee Homosapien wasn’t exactly a regular, like, say, Hole (bargain bin perennial, that one!).  So he’d come in, ask for the song, do his little rendition (no shoes this whole time) and then tell us we sucked because we didn’t have it.   Then he’d be back two weeks later asking for the same damn song.    This, and “Pink” by Aerosmith, were the two that the Barefoot DJ was constantly looking for.

But…he wanted “Pink” on a greatest hits album!  Even though it was their new single at the time, from their brand new album, he wanted it on a hits album.  Wouldn’t buy it otherwise.  I told him he was just going to have to wait.  There was no pleasing this man, even when he did wear shoes!

CODA:  A question raised by Craig Fee, of 107.5 Dave FM:  “Who the fuck wants that stupid song by Aerosmith?”

Answer – Me….

TORONTO RECORD SHOW_0013

Part 41: Klassic Kwotes VI!

Part 41 already?  Holy crap!  Thanks for tagging along, enjoy the classic quotes!

1.  When you opened up in the morning, you’d show up early, unlock, and disarm the alarm system.  On a regular basis, I would turn around to find someone had followed me in.  “Are you open?”  Yeah, because everyone opens up at 9:15, jackass.

2. “Are you guys open tomorrow?”  Sure, not an odd question, right?  Well, it is when it’s December the fucking 24th!  We’re a record store, not Tim Horton’s!

3. “Do you have any Walter Ostenek?”  Said to me by…Walter Ostenek.

4. “Hey, I know you!  You’re the one that won those Juno awards!”  Said by me, to Walter Ostenek.  His deadpan response?  “They were Grammies”.

5. “I can’t wear shoes, I have a foot disease.”  EEWWW?  Said to me by a DJ who ignoreded our annual summertime “No Shirt, No Shoes, No CDs!” sign.

6. “Because highschool is free, and Jerry Springer does not work here, please wear a shirt in the store.”  A sign that Trevor made!

7. “Who would win in a fight?  Darth Vader, or Anakin Skywalker?”  A very difficult question, posed by one of my regular customer’s kids.  The kid quizzed me on Star Wars every time he was in the store.  It was awesome.

8. “Where do you keep the GOOD music?”  Another puzzling question, but this time by someone who was old enough to know better.

9. ” My name’s Winston.”  Said to me by a guy who’s driver’s licence clearly said “Eggbert”.

DISCLAIMER – Do not read on, if you are weak of stomach.

10. “Sometimes, I shit in the shower.  It’s easy.  You just shit in your hand, drop the poo in the toilet bowl, and since you’re in the shower already you just wash your hands.”  –– Joe Big Nose.  True story.

Part 40: Record Store Bands

All record stores have their fare share of record store bands.  The names are fading into obscurity, but there are two that I still remember because I still listen to the CD’s more than a decade later.

It doesn’t matter if a band ever makes it big, or if you’re the only fan.  If the music moves you enough to still listen to it over a decade later, then that is all that matters.  Two bands that I still listen to over a decade later are Here Comes Jim and The Candidates.

Both Here Comes Jim and The Candidares were bands fromCambridge, Ontario Canada.  They were “our” bands – made up of record store guys, our friends, and talented ones at that.  They didn’t sound anything alike, but in my opinion, both had the potential to get signed.

THE CANDIDATES

This four-piece was a rock band influenced by The Who, The Jam, and the mod scene in general.  They started out with all four members wearing suits and ties on stage but this later evolved into a looser image.  Their stage presence was such that they could have played a hockey barn, as they acted as if there was a thousand people in the audience even if there were only a handful.  Their tunes were solid, well composed, and well played.  They boasted three lead vocalists, including this guy Neil M, who came all the way from Scotland to rock the tri-cities.

Their tunes were full of attitude.  For example, “Who’s Your Daddy Now” was a song written for Trevor, about this girl that ended up using him for a ride to her home town (Ottawa) and then breaking it off.  She was obsessed with pictures of herself:

Sold your soul for a photograph,

I tore it up and had the last laugh,

Who’s your daddy now?

He ain’t got nothin’ on me!

The Candidates eventually split and morphed into other bands.  For me personally, nothing was better than the original four-piece, the band that I went to see as often as possible.  They hit me right in the nuts and I think their debut album had all the right moves in all the right places.  They made an equally good second album, but it’s the debut that was special to me personally.

HERE COMES JIM

Another four-piece, this was a more experimental band.  The lead singer was this extremely talented guy named Matty G.  I believe that he was actually a trained singer, which would help explain why he was able to sing so many different styles (often within one song).  I used to compare him to a Mike Patton, a comparison that he was flattered by.  Yet I think the comparison was accurate.  The difference is that Matt used to sing and play lead guitar too.

They had quite a few good tunes.  My favourites were “She Is”, a melodic winner with a chorus that kills, and “Negator”.  “Negator” was just a pissed-off, scream-loaded, headache inducing pile of distorted guitars and vocals.  I would compare it to Faith No More tunes such as “Surprise! You’re Dead!” for sheer power and aggression.  Either song could have been a hit, in a just world.

Neil, Matt, and the rest of the gang that I’ve lost touch with are still some of the most talented musicians that the tri-cities have produced.  I’m glad I saw these bands back in the day, bands that are now forgotten in the dusts of time.  However, if you’re ever in the area, wandering through the pawn shops and music stores, and you run into a copy of either album, pick it up.  It’ll be a better listen than whatever Nickelcrap that MTV is pushing these days.

r-l: Me, Tom, Meat

Part 39: Mother’s Day at the Record Store

My first Mother’s Day at the store was unique.  We never tried this stunt again, because it was a bit of a waste.  It was spring 1995.  The boss had brought in a bucket of roses.  He said, “I want you to hand these out to every lady that looks like a mother, that comes in today.”  OK, all well and good.  A little on the weird/awkward/unique side, but OK.  I didn’t want to do it but I didn’t have much choice. You had to kind of guess who was a mother and who wasn’t. Not fun! “Do I look that old to you?” was a common response.

I guess the problem is that most mothers didn’t really go out to buy CD’s on Mother’s Day.  A lot of them headed out for morning brunch with the families, or spent the day with the families.  Then you’d have the occasional crackhead mother that I would skip, because they’d probably just try to smoke the flowers.  On Mother’s Day, it was pretty much just dudes.  They were in there to buy the latest Jann Arden, Celine Dion, or Shania Twain for mom.  As my bucket of flowers sat there, I figured I’d throw in a free one to any non-jerky dudes that were buying gifts for mom, too.  I got rid of a couple more roses that way.

Finally towards the end of the day, the bucket of roses still half full, I had a visit.  It was from a girl I liked named Holly.  Holly was a big Depeche Mode fan, and I had some CD singles in stock.  She picked a couple out and I decided, “What the hell?  Worth a try.”

“These are for you, Holly.”

I handed her the rest of the roses.  She was thrilled.  I didn’t get a date out of it, but at least the flowers didn’t go to a crackhead!

Oh!  And I did bring one home for my mom.

We never did the flowers thing again.  Happy Mother’s Day!

Part 38: More Wood

RECORD STORE TALES Part 38: More Wood

As I said before in chapter 14, record store guys have the best parties, ever.  In the beginning when things were less corporate, we also had the best staff parties.   There were kegs, which automatically meant keg stands. We were outdoors.  There was music.  There were burgers and dogs and even vegetarian options.  One year, a bunch of guys (including our buddy Dave “Homer”), pulled up in a pickup truck with a couch in the back!  Fucking perfect!  We would go all night, no complaints from the neighbors.  This was long before Spoogecakes. This was summer, 1999.

In my humble opinion, the epicenter of these parties was always Tom. He brought the best tunes. He said the most random things (“Frosted Lucky Charms, they’re magically delicious!”) at the most random times. Tom brought the fucking party.

TOM

The triumvirate of Tom, Trev and myself were usually ready to rock out to something a little on the heavier side.  Tom brought the Fu Manchu, which was my first exposure to the band.  From The Action is Go, he played “Saturn III” on repeat.

Spaceman destroy

Mega asteroid

Certain time and place

Floatin’ up in space

Tom brought the tunes, and Tom brought the chicken wings.  Tom used to pull this stunt where he’d eat several wings, bones and all.  (Then, he used to put the rest of the bones in a jar and say he would use it to make soup?)   Well, it didn’t turn out so well for Tom this time.

Trev was working with this one kid from Egypt who didn’t last long.  Boutros was his name.  Well, Boutros used to boast that he could eat “anything” no matter how hot.  Trevor used to laugh at this, having tasted the terrible delights of the habanero pepper himself.  Boutros, despite his boasts, had never heard of this pepper.  He had no idea what he was getting himself into with his boasting.

Trevor made a special trip to get one pepper, just for this party.  It was a mean looking little thing, like a tiny tomato.  He presented it to Smelly.  Smelly laughed.

“That little thing?  That’s what I’m supposed to be so afraid of?  That little thing?”

Boutros was about to insert the whole thing in mouth.

Trevor responded with a chuckle, “Be careful!  Don’t have a bite.  Just cut off a small slice.”

“Yeah whatever!” he said as a slice was prepared for him.

He ate it.  He laughed.  He laughed some more.

Then, his eyes grew wide.  His mouth squeezed shut as he began crying.  He assumed the fetal position.  I didn’t see him again for the rest of the night.  He never boasted about being able to eat “anything” again.

Enter, Tom.  Tom was already well lubricated from generous amounts of cold, frothy beer.  He had also already performed his standard party trick:   the eating of the chicken bones, much to the delight of us.  So, when a very inebriated Tom grabbed what was left of that pepper and bit, we all shouted “NO” at once!  After all, chicken bones and habanero cannot feel good coming out the other end!

As far as I know, Tom spent much of the rest of the evening drinking milk in the washroom.  I do not know what the next day was like for him.  I have never asked.  I don’t want to know.

Intermission: Pranks 2.0 “Thussy Boy”

I’m not in a record store anymore, but in so many respects, absolutely nothing has changed.

I went out to get a sub at lunch.  When coming back, I stopped at my office to check my email before heading to the lunch room.  I found the guilty party taping my mouse down to the desk using heavy duty yellow labels.  Here is the photographic evidence.

And here is the guilty party attempting to escape.

Ahh well, it’s his birthday today.  I can’t be too mad.

HAPPY BIRTHDAY THUSSY BOY!

Part 37: When Wives Spill Their Pepsi all Over Ronnie James Dio

Back in 2006, a few weeks after I left the store, I became a “normal customer”.  (As if there is such a thing!)  I started getting calls from my former compatriots any time they saw something cool come in for me.  Which was frequent back then.  Today I have a hard time finding discs locally that I still need, as my collection is pretty beefy.

I drove on a snowy Saturday to one of my former haunts to see my friends and former co-workers.  I managed to snag a mint condition used copy of Dio’s Holy Diver – Live.  It was his newest album.   (Also, sadly, his last album released while he was still alive.)    The package was 2 CD’s including one disc of Holy Diver, performed live in sequence.  I tried to explain to Jen how cool this release was:

It’s the first time he’s played the whole album live.  It was his first album, and considered his best solo album by a lot of fans.  It’s a landmark album — you’ll know some of these songs.

Jen had already heard some Dio.  I played Intermission (on vinyl) for her regularly, and she knew tunes like “Rainbow in the Dark” quite well.  Plus, Jen enjoys back rubs.  If she wanted a back rub, for example, I’d put some tunes on, usually Dio.  Soon it became known as “Dio Massages”.  It wasn’t too long before Jen knew most of Dio’s best tunes from Rainbow and beyond:  “Man On The Silver Mountain”, “Holy Diver”, and so on.  Dio Massages became a regular weekend ritual.

So, when I picked up Holy Diver – Live, I was stoked!  I got it cheap, used, which was not always easy with new metal releases.  Metal fans tend to hang on to their new releases, since they’re not always easy to come across in mainstream retail outlets.   Jen and I listened to disc one, and went to bed.

I had rather stupidly left the CD case (with second disc still inside) on the end table.  Right next to Jen’s can of diet Pepsi.  An idiot could have predicted what would happen next.  My only defense is “I am not an idiot!” but it didn’t save my Dio CD.  Jen reached for her diet Pepsi, missed, and spilled.  Dio was drenched – the booklet, the back cover, and the second disc.  I owned the CD for less than a day, and it was already wrecked.  In the morning, the second disc (previously mint) had little beads of dried Pepsi on it.  The booklet and back cover were a lost cause.  Couldn’t even open the booklet, like a teenager’s first Playboy mag!

I called up my buddy at the store where I had bought the CD.  We’ll call him “Steven Tyler” as an alias.  (He happens to share the name of a famous rock star in real life.)

“Steven!  You got any more of those Dio live albums floating around in the system?”

“Nope, sorry man.  You got the only one,” said Steven.

I ordered a replacement copy from Amazon later that morning.  New.  Over $30 all said and done.

MORAL:  DO NOT LEAVE YOUR DIO DISCS NEXT TO A CAN OF DIET PEPSI OVERNIGHT!

I still love my wife more than anything.  She still loves “Rainbow in the Dark”.

Part 35.5: Spoogecakes!

A former co-worker gets a case of foot-in-mouth disease!

RECORD STORE TALES Part 35.5:  Spoogecakes!

I’m going to take a break from our regularly scheduled program, and respond to a single reader.  It’s always great to have new readers here at LeBrain’s Record Store Tales, we’ve had people from all over the world, from Russia to Iceland.  Hello!

Still, it came as a surprise to me to get a comment so negative, so full of personal vitriol…yet anonymously!

The comment in question was in regards to Part 35: Due Credit. The submitting email address: bitchingaboutpastemployers@yahoo.com, the pen-name was “Unimpressed”.  Normally I wouldn’t publish a hateful anonymous comment, but this one was bizarre and perfect for another Record Store Tale.

Since this person was anonymous, I will dub them with a name so I have someone to refer to:  Let’s call he or she “Spoogecakes” [Note added:  Her real name is Laura, and she used to have this weird psycho-crush on me back in the day.]

Let’s go!

You are begrudging them for utilizing you where they thought you shined? They wanted you in a position where you were visible to customers first-hand and you sit back and complain?

Dear Spooge:   Yes.  It’s not “utilizising” someone where they shine.  It’s taking advantage of someone in a dead-end job.  Nobody wants to stay “visible to customers” in a retail environment forever.  That’s like saying to a McDonalds employee “you’re really good at making fries, so we’re going to keep you on the fry station.  Forever.”  Know of any better ways to kill worker morale?

Record shop employees can have a tremendous influence on customer base and at a time when the internet and websites were not as expected and commonplace as they are now, your employers wanted to maintain your skills as a visible employee.

Spooge, how do you know what my employers wanted?

Just because you did something first does not entitle you to be a sycophantic jackass.

Sycophantic?  It’s my fucking story, moron.

It’s called development of ideas and if you did not speak up at the time at what you perceived as slights on your efforts then you are just as much to blame as anyone else. If you wanted to be in the office working in your 30s you should have asked for such work or began the process of finding much more fulfilling employment.

Again, who says I didn’t?  What makes you think you would know?  In fact, we all did — and we were all made promises that never came to fruition.  All kinds of stories.  I remember one story about how we’d have 100 stores across the country in 5 years, and how I’d never have to buy another CD from a crackhead ever again.

Second, it’s not called “development of ideas”.  It’s taking someone else’s idea, and shutting them out.  Period.

You are not a peacemaker. Staying silent and then making public posts like this illuminate a petty passive-aggressiveness that is unattractive and will only fuel your bitterness. It is not peaceful. You are coming up on your 40s and either grow up or shut up at this point. This isn’t High Fidelity and you are not remotely amusing.

How do you know how old I am?  And, let me help with your reading skills, Spooge.  I never said I AM a peacemaker.  I said I WAS a peacemaker.  Give peace a chance?  Been there, done that!  I’m done holding my tongue.   I didn’t at the time, because going with the flow was “better than nothing” as I clearly stated.  But, why do you care?  What makes you take the time out of your (obviously) busy day to write a three paragraph treatise on staying in dead-end jobs?

Lastly:  I’m “not remotely amusing”?  Come on!  Really? — after all, you read it and felt moved enough to respond.

Sounds to me like Spoogecakes has a sore spot or two.  After all, I can’t imagine why a random, anonymous reader would feel so driven to write such a vitriol-filled comment!  What Spoogey  apparently missed was the part where I said I was proud of what I did all those many years ago.

When one creates something, one should take pride in it.  In this case, am I taking pride belatedly.  I am very proud of everything I built and created, and nobody — certainly not Spoogey here — can tell me not to.  I spent way too many years having people tell me to sit down and not to make any trouble.  And here, you’re telling me to “grow up” or “shut up”.  Just like the old days!

Grow up?  Maybe you clicked the wrong link to your Barry Manilow blog, but this blog is about rock and roll.  You can tell by the little guitars going up and down the sides.  Rock and roll ain’t about growing up — it’s about permanent youth!

You can’t tell me to “shut up”.  In fact, the Record Store Tales are only beginning.

Hugs N’ Kisses,

 

Part 36: The Hunt

RECORD STORE TALES Part 36: The Hunt

Before the record store, during the record store, and after the record store, one thing remained constant:  the Hunt.

The hunt for something long sought.  The hunt for something cool.  The hunt for something rare.  Peter and I hunted for all these things together.  The problem was that Peter and I like the same music, so if we’d only find one copy, who got dibs was who found it first.

Peter was at a record show once and asked a vendor, “Do you have Ward One: Along The Way by Bill Ward?”  This solo album by the original Black Sabbath drummer featured guest vocals by Ozzy, making it a must have for both of us  The guy didn’t have it there, but he did have it in his shop in Brampton.  The following week, Peter jumped in his car, headed down to Brampton, and bought it.  I’ve only ever seen this CD twice, and the second time was the time that I bought it.  In the interim, Peter taped it for me.

Today, there are no “shops in Brampton” in which to buy rare CDs.

Kids today would be shocked at the lengths we went to to get albums.  Peter and I once headed down to Michigan with the (essentially) sole purpose of finding rare things.  Peter had heard about this comedy tape called The Jerky Boys that was not out yet in Canada.  Score!  I added to my Savatage collection on the same trip, picking up Power of the Night, which I had never even heard of before.  On another US trip, Peter picked up the Black Sabbath box The Ozzy Osbourne Years.  The set was a pretty decent overview of the first six Sabbath platters plus the then-rare track “Evil Woman”.

Peter and I used to also look at bootleg videos on our many trips to record shows.  Once again, the hunt for Ozzy and Sabbath continued.  Peter snagged a rare 1995 Ozzy club show with the short lived lineup of Geezer Butler (bass), Deen Castronovo (drums) and Joe Holmes (guitar).  This lineup never recorded an album.  It was memorable for that reason, and also the fact that  when Ozzy shouted, “Do you people want to hear some Sabbath songs?” the crowd responded “NO!“

Even though I was working at the store, I couldn’t rely on the store to complete my collection.  You had to think outside the box, you had to travel, to find those rare items.  I found the rare first Vinnie Vincent Invasion album on CD in Kincardine, Ontario — the one with Robert Fleichman singing.   I also found a Helix single there with a then-unreleased remix on it.  My boss never understood why we’d shop anywhere we didn’t get a discount.  This was why.  You found the coolest stuff in the small towns, the out of the way places.  But you sometimes also had to venture into the epicenter of a record show, and pay a little bit more, to get what you need.

SAM_1499

Summer 2000

Part 35: Credit Due

RECORD STORE TALES Part 35: Credit Due 

In the late fall of 1995, my enthusiasm for the store had never been greater.  I had already created and posted our very first online ads, on my own time.  The first one was in November of 1994.  I posted it on every C-Net BBS (Bulletin Board System) in the area code.  I drew a full colour (but very blocky!) version of our logo, using the most state of the art BBS software of the time.  It took hours.  In the ad, I hyped that we would be carrying the new Vitalogy album by Pearl Jam the following week, on vinyl!  Limited quantities!

I did this on my own time, because I loved the store.

But back to 1995.  I thought that we had already done an excellent job of giving the store some rocking personality and quality stock.  I had never been more psyched.  I used to go to Future Shop, again on my own time, just to check their prices and stock versus ours.

I decided I wanted to get writing.  I’ve always loved writing and I thought the store could be the vehicle.  I came up with the idea of doing the monthly newsletter.  I even put together a primitive prototype.  It was printed on tractor feed printer paper by a dot matrix printer, stapled in the top left.  It was all I had, but the point was to do a proof-of-concept.  I was demonstrating that we could come up with our own content, from reviews to charts, and do it our way with humour. Not like all the lame corporate type newsletters that other stores had.

The idea was met with dead glances as I passed around my prototypes.  It was shot down for being “too expensive”.

In 1997, the newsletter idea was revived.  It was like mine, but folded instead of stapled, and in two colours at first (red and black).  The kid that printed it couldn’t spell worth shit, but he made it look acceptable for the period.  I received no credit or recognition for what was my idea, nor did I have any creative control at all. I felt like my idea had been taken away from me. But, I went along with it, I happily contributed.  It was better than nothing.

Finally, I was the guy who ran our website, solo, for the first year or two of its operation.  I conceived all the initial procures, I filled the orders, kept the books, filed the emails, and I corresponded with the customers.  I did it all, myself.  I even wrote the FAQ page, and in fact some of my original words are still there online today.  I answered every customer email and question, myself, positive or negative.  For a little while I had my own office with a computer and phone to work out of, although it was about the size of a toilet. It was still a very rewarding experience.

The website was taken away from me because I was told that my time was “more valuable to us in the store.” Fuck! I didn’t spend all those years working at this place to just end up in a store, I wanted to be in an office, doing stuff! That was what I had been promised! I was turning 30, and I didn’t want to be working in a store anymore in my 30’s, but again, I went along with it, because it was better than nothing.

Some of the other people from the organization say that I didn’t stand up for myself enough, that I should have called bullshit on a lot of stuff.  They were obviously right, but I was always sort of a peacemaker.  Never wanted to raise a stink.  So I didn’t.  I kept the peace and kept my tongue.

But what the hell? I’m proud of what I accomplished there, out of sheer passion to be involved and creative, and it’s time I said so.

 

The fallout was immediate.  Continued in Part 35.5:  Spoogecakes.