Record Store Tales

Part 18: Klassic Kwotes III

Without further adieu.

1. This one is painful.  We had a wreath on our store door, with the lights and all that.  There was a note taped to the door next to the wreath.  It was instructions for us.  It said:  “Please unplug the reith every night!”  R-E-I-T-H.

2. “Because I’m the Tattoo Man!  I get a discount at Sears, you know.”  Said to us by Snake the Tattoo Man, on why he deserved a discount.

3. “Kurt!  Stop that!”  Yelled by a young mother at her misbehaving son, while selling her ENTIRE Nirvana collection.

4. Q: “What happens when you put a CD in the microwave?”  A: You buy a new microwave.

5. “I was just trying to see how fast I could run…with a shovel…”  Said to me by a kid who walked in the store, stole our snow shovel, and walked out again.  (I got in shit, by the way, for chasing him down and getting the shovel back.)

6. “What you’re hearing right now is a roll.  You’ve heard of rock, right?  You’ve heard of rock and roll, right?  Well, this song is roll.  Can you hear it?  Can you hear that?  This is roll.  Not rock, and not rock and roll.  This is the first roll performed since 1966.”  Said to us by some dude while we were playing the current album by The Verve, Urban Hymns.  I still have no fucking idea what he was on about.  (If you know, please, comment below.)

7. “Do you have ze Queens?”  Said to me by a guy with a thick German accent, asking for Queen.

8. This one’s not a quote, per-se.  But this guy came in once wearing a T-shirt that said, “Does this cock in my mouth make me look gay?”  He was in the store with his mother!

9. “Can I work here for like, four hours, and you just pay me cash when I’m done?”  Said to me by a really really scary looking weirdo dude type guy.

10. “Can you please do me a favour.  I’d like you to call or write to Sony, and let them know that this DVD is not recorded in DTS.  It says it is on the box, but when I put it in the player, the DTS light doesn’t come on.  Can you please inform Sony about this?”  Sure.  Want me to pick up your laundry too?

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Part 17: New Music

1993. Fuck yeah.

RECORD STORE TALES Part 17:  New Music

I had always tried to stay ahead of the curve, musically.  Not so much anymore, but back then?  Definitely.  When I was a younger, more handsome fellow (see above, next to Jean-Luc Picard), I used to buy every magazine that was on the shelf, all the time.  I knew every band coming out,  before they came out.  The record store was an extension of this, bands were coming in all the time that you’d try out.  Big Wreck for example.  I had heard the buzz building about this band for months and then when I saw a CD come in, I tried it and liked it.

Sometimes a CD would just look interesting.   If an album cover struck you, you’d play it on your shift.  If it sucked, you’d take it off.  If you liked it, score!  New fave band.

There was this pseudo “super group” called Neurotic Outsiders in 1996.  T-Rev raved about their debut album, Neurotic Outsiders, so I snagged it.  They consisted of Matt Sorum and Duff McKagan (Guns N’ Roses), Steve Jones (Sex Pistols), and John Taylor (Duran Duran).  It was decidedly punk rock, which was fine by me, and I was finding myself really getting into punk at the time. It was great!  Made my top 10 that year.

Another one was the Sultans of Ping F.C.  That’s a mouthful.  (F.C. was for Football Club).  Their album, Casual Sex in the Cineplex, was discovered by Trevor and quickly spread among us like fungus. It was Irish punk rock with hilarious lyrics!

My brother knows Karl Marx
He met him eating mushrooms in the public park
He said What do you think of my manifesto?
I like your manifesto, put it to the testo   – (“Where’s Me Jumper?”)

That album spread like fungus among us.  One problem:  there was just one copy in the entire chain of stores.  And all of us wanted it.  So, the CD went on hold into a “store play” pile.  Anybody could listen to it on their shift, but it stayed in the store.  That arrangement lasted about a year.

The boss wouldn’t let us just “keep it on hold” for ourselves and not buy it, rightfully so.  It was a product.  Trev put it on the shelves.  He was quite confident that nobody would ever buy it.   We could listen to it in store to our heart’s desires, and it was still “for sale”.

I think that may have been the status quo for like another year, maybe two.  Then they hired this new guy Matty G.  Matty G was not aware of the “nobody may buy the Sultans of Ping” rule.   Matty G bought the Sultans of Ping on his first shift, after hearing Trev playing it in store.

Matt was kind enough to tape it for me, and later on a guy in England burned me a copy.  Yet,   that was to this day the only copy I have ever seen.  If anybody reading this owns a copy:  Name your price.

Part 16: Travelling Man

For the record, I’m not much the traveller.  If I were any shorter and hairier, I’d be a hobbit.  Happy kicking my feet up, at home.

So when I got the phone call one Thursday afternoon that I was needed in Oakville later that same afternoon, my heart just sank.  I’d already pulled shifts at numerous stores.  Because I was the most experienced person in the whole organization, I was the trainer.  I also covered asses when people didn’t show up and got sick.  I’d worked in at least 11 different stores by the end of it all.  But this Oakville stint was different, in that in was both sudden and indefinite.

There was some sort of staffing issue where they lost the main guy and needed someone in right away.  I didn’t want to do it and said so, but I did it anyway.   Thus began what was easily the worst month or two of my entire life.

Commuting on highway 8 to the 401.  401 to the 6 South.  6 South to the 403.  403 to the QE.  Do it twice a day nearly every day, many of those days being a full 12 hours long.  Leave for work at 8 am to get through the traffic, which was always uncertain.  Traffic jams were the only guaranteed thing, and a daily occurance on the 403 on QEW.  Close up shop at 9:30 usually, do the drive home, usually around 10:30 if there’s no traffic on the way back.  Your social life is on hold, your leisure time nearly nonexistent.  My boss noticed I was miserable and took me aside.

He said he noticed I hadn’t “been doing well with the whole Oakville thing.”  Now, the whole time I was responsible for Oakville, I was also responsible for my home store.  This meant keeping the books for both, doing inventory at both (a year-end inventory for both!), and doing the monthly sales books too.  Considering I was literally going insane, I was pissed off that he actually said anything to me about it.

“No, you’re right,” I answered.  “I hate doing that drive every day.  You know I hate driving, everybody knows I hate driving.  I’m not seeing my family, I don’t have time to do anything, all my time is plugged into the store.  And on top of that I still have the other store.  And you’ve got me working full days with no relief on some of these days.”

He pondered that a moment, and then asked, “Does your car have a tape deck?”

“Yeah, sure.”

He then retorted, “Why don’t you bring some of your old tapes with you, and listen to music in the car.  That’ll be a lot of fun for you.”

I’d been doing this and in fact doing it with a theme.  I’d been playing my oldest, most seldom played cassettes from back in the 80’s.  Stuff I hadn’t heard in years, like Winger.  One thing I learned from this commute is; when you’re stuck in traffic on the 403, in a torrential downpour, listening to Winger, it still sucks pretty much as bad as it would if you weren’t listening to Winger.

He didn’t get that, so he reminded me of all that nice mileage money I was making.  I hadn’t been paid any of it yet, but I was looking forward to one day maybe being lucky enough to have a cheque show up.  I was gassing up every day on my Visa card and I didn’t have enough money to cover it.

So off I went to Oakville again, listening to Helix this time, because Helix reminded me of Kitchener.  The next day it was something else, and the next day something else, but the days just blurred together.  Did I mention I was working weekends?

By the time December hit I was running on energy drinks and pepperoni for a diet.  By first snow, my dad was starting to get worried.  He knew my car (a 1998 Dodge Neon) had a history of malfunctions and the tires were getting old.  But there was no time to have a service done, since I was always on the road.

There were still other aggravating factors.  The stay in Oakville was indefinite.  Nobody had any idea when their continued staffing issues would end. I didn’t even know if I’d be working there on Christmas Eve, doing the commute home.  Everything was up in the air so in a sense there really was no light at the end of the tunnel.

The very worst thing about Oakville was this one small minority of customers that had a habit of ruining your day.  Sme of them seemed quite well off.  They drove fancy SUV’s and Hummers, and parked them in the fire lane, too.

Many SUV curb parkers were really nice, chatty, funny.  Others were indifferent.  Another kind completely was the Busy, Very Important Business Man.   Their shoes were very shiny.  Their coats looked expensive and warm.  Their gloves looked like they were made of soft leather.  They were on their lunch.

Now, I need to back up a moment here so you understand the scenario about to unfold.  In Ontario, a used CD store operates like a pawn shop.  There are procedures and laws to be followed.  Anyone selling used goods must be 18 years old or older.  They must present, and I must record, the proper identification.  There were several items on the “good ID” list and many more on the “bad”.

Good

  1. Driver’s license.
  2. BYID (identification to buy liquor)
  3. Up to date passport, as in, you’re not 5 in the picture.

Bad

  1. Health card.  Yeah I know the government puts it out, laws are laws and we were told by the cops, don’t take these.
  2. Library card.  I know that seems obvious.
  3. School ID cards.
  4. Business cards.
  5. A note from your mom.  I didn’t make that one up, some kid tried that and the stupid person working that night actually took it as ID.

When a rich Oakvillian came into the store with a box of CDs to sell, it was always the worst day of the week.  Sometimes I’d bring a sandwich instead of pepperoni, and they’d always come in while I was eating.  Guaranteed.

This one guy, on this one particular day, was ornery.  I mean he was just not having a good day and you could tell.  He was still on his cell when he walked in.  He comes up to the counter, ear still to phone.  He drops the box on the counter.  He’s not even making eye contact with me.  He’s nodding his head and talking.  I stand there looking at him.  He hasn’t even made eye contact with me let alone speak to me.

Finally, the guy motioned to me to start looking through his CDs.  This was not a good start because I wasn’t able to briefly explain our buying policy with him, e.g. what to expect.  I had no idea what his assumptions were, but by experience I concluded he’d think his discs were worth a lot more than I was going to be able to give him.  They were good, classical, jazz and blues.  This stuff sold well in Oakville, and over the internet, but just because it’s jazz and classical doesn’t make it expensive.  A lot of factors played in.  Record labels, remastered, non remastered, retail price, supply and demand.  This guy, you’d think, would understand these business principles.  Turns out he didn’t understand this.  It also turns out he doesn’t like to bargain with the serving class.  Nor does he like to be asked for ID by the serving class, but more on that later.

One drawback to classical and jazz was that they were sometimes more complicated to look up and price.  I mean, Rachmaninov is a lot to type in on the best of days, let along ones where you feel asleep and caffeine buzzed all at once.  I had to take my time.  I wasn’t doing it on purpose.  I had to get it right, so I could say to him confidently that I was doing the very best I could for him.  If he wanted to bargain up ten or twenty bucks, for this many discs, I could have done that, I was able to value the discs higher if I needed to.

He didn’t like the way I priced his discs, and he really didn’t like it when I told him that some, a small number, were scratched.  He got visibly upset about the ones that were scratched a bit too badly for me to take.

“These play fine.  Try them.”

I explained, “There’s more to it than that.  We have extremely high standards to the visual look of a disc.  We have several locations and I have to remain consistent with our other stores, which all are held to a very high standard.  I’m sure the disc plays fine, I really don’t doubt it.  I’ll just never get this disc to look completely new, and that’s what we’re trying to go for.  I’m sorry about that but I really can’t buy that disc.”

“You don’t play a CD by looking at it, do you?  It plays fine, this is absolutely ridiculous.”

He was really pissed off now.

I went through the values I was offering for the discs.  Knowing this was not going to go well, I started with the high ones and worked down to the lower valued ones.  He wasn’t happy right from the start.  Things that I was offering $6 for, which was high, he wanted $10.  I couldn’t do it.  Multiplied across so many discs, I couldn’t bury the cost elsewhere.

I played my $10 bargaining chip and upped my offer.  It just seemed to make him more angry.  I went up $15.  $20.  I started to wonder if his skin would turn green.  I saw it unfold in my head.  It starts at the eyes, they glow green, then his skin, then the muscles burst through the shirt.

“Who do you think you are?” he asked me incredulously.

Who do I think I am?  Who the fuck do you think you are?

“I’m sorry sir, but this truly is the best I can do.”

“This is highway fucking robbery.  I’ll take the money,” said the man in the expensive jacket.

Steeling myself against the barrage I expected, I dropped one final bomb.

“I’ll just need to get some government issued ID from you.”

A pause.  “Who the fuck do you think you are?  I am not giving you my ID.  You legally can’t even ask me for my ID.”

Again, consistency.  If I let this slide and he comes again when someone else is working, they’d get the inevitable “Well, the other guy said I didn’t need ID!”

“I actually have to sir, that’s actually the law.  In Ontario, that’s the law.  The police do come in here to collect our books regularly.”  Which was true.  And I’ve been yelled at and threatened by cops for not following procedure.  It’s less fun than being yelled at by rich guys, truthfully.

He reached into his wallet.  “That’s bullshit.  I’m a lawyer.  I’m not showing you my ID.”  He pulled out a business card.  He was indeed a lawyer.

“Sir, I can’t use this.  I need government issued photo ID, like a driver’s license.  This all goes into my computer, I can’t do the transaction without the proper ID.  If I used that, I couldn’t even complete the screen to do the transaction.  None of the information I need is on here.”

He looked even more exasperated.  He’s not the only customer in the store.  Some glance over, some studiously avoid glancing over.  One’s just completely disinterested.

“What information do you need?!” he bellowed.

Inhaling deep, I answered.  “I can’t do this without your date of birth and address, bare minimum.  I’m sorry sir.  That’s all I can do for you.”

He started stuffing the CDs back into the box.  He stormed to the door.  He turned.

“You’re a real asshole, you know that?”

And that was the last thing he said to me.  I never saw him again.

Part 15: Dating a Radio Station Girl

RECORD STORE TALES Part 15:  Dating a Radio Station Girl

You would think a Record Store Dude and a Radio Station Girl would make beautiful music together.  (Sorry I couldn’t resist saying that…I promise I’ll never do it again.)

When I first starting dating Radio Station Girl in 2003, I was really excited.  She seemed pretty cool and she worked at a radio station, so how awesome was that?  We had the music career thing happening.

Disappointingly, she turned out to be so un-musical, it was crushing.  She worked at 1240 CJCS in Stratford Ontario.  They were in what she called the “oldies” format.  She also enjoyed cheesy stuff like Barenaked Ladies.

Our first date was the Kelsey’s on the main street of Stratford.  She was moonlighting at Blockbuster video, so I picked her up there and we went to Kelsey’s.  It was February and it was snowing but we were having a great time talking about our respective careers, food, and movies.

Then the Beatles came on.  I can’t remember which song.  Either way it seemed like a good topic of conversation.  George Harrison’s death was still fresh in my memory, as he was my favourite one.

“Elli, who’s your favourite Beatle?” I queried.

“I don’t know.  I can’t name any of them.”

Say what?  Whathefuck??

She worked at a radio station, and couldn’t name a Beatle?

John Lennon maybe?  Ring any bells?

I really should have known.  Honest.  But is bad musical taste enough to not date someone?  If it is, it’s a crime I’ve commited on numerous occassions.  I dated girls who listened to crap dance music, and no fewer than three who have seen New Kids on the Block live.  That I know of.  That is, there were three who admit it. 

I married one of them, but let’s not get into that now!  I love my wife dearly, in spite of and sometimes because of her flaws.

Anyway, the musical sins continued.  She made me download a whole bunch of crappy songs and burn them for her, because in Stratford in 2003, all they had was dial-up.  It was truly awful, like not even kidding awful.

We broke up three times total.  That is, she dumped me three times.

The first time we got back together, she emailed me saying she just finished eating a tub of Hagan Daas.  This guy I worked with says, “That means she wants you back, dude.”  She did, and we got back together.  I made her a mix CD with “Disturbing the Priest” by Black Sabbath on there.  Just a little surprise, you know?  Like a middle finger for dumping me in the first place and then eating a tub of ice cream and changing her mind.

The second time we broke up, I think she probably just got back together with me so she had a date to this one CJCS radio station charity event appearance.   That was actually cool, I got to throw a pie at her face.  Afterwards, I forced her to listen to Thick as a Brick in the car as sort of a retribution.  She had never heard Jethro Tull before in her life.  She didn’t get it.

There would be no third reconciliation.  She made up a bullshit story about moving to Vancouver, and I never saw her again.  The nice thing about that is that I’d never have to hear Moxy Fruvous, Puddle of Mudd, or fucking Gilbert O’Sullivan ever again.

Coda:

What followed this was actually one of the top five worst weeks of my life.  I was house and dog sitting for my parents, when I suddenly got a throat infection.  So I got dumped by this girl, I can’t swallow anymore, I’m taking care of two houses and a stubborn dog, that’s enough to handle already.  Schnauzers, you know how they are.  Well this one particular bad schnauzer is named Ani.  Ani pooped herself and got all the poop matted in her butt fur.  It was stuck in there so bad that I had to cut it out with a scissors, and then bathe her, all just minutes before I had to leave for work.  And then, just when I thought that the week was over and things would get back to normal soon, I busted my glasses.  I was scraping the ice off my windshield, and I slipped.  I somehow got caught onto the antenna which sprung loose and thwacked me right in the face.  My glasses, minus one lens, was down in the snow.  A fucking brilliant week.

Part 14: Record Shows, Parties, and Quiet Riot
You do strange things when drinking

You do strange things when drinking

RECORD STORE TALES Part 14:   Record Shows, Parties, and Quiet Riot

Guys from record stores do know how to party.  The only true allnighters I ever pulled happened during the years at the record store.  Everything else I called an allnighter, I actually slept for a couple hours.

But trust me folks…guys from record stores play the best music when they party.  One night in London (Ontario) we stayed up for what seemed like forever, playing the dumbest fucking drinking games.  My drink was Captain Morgan’s (spiced) and Coke.  However we were playing this stupid fucking card game.  I think it was called Kings in the Corner or something?  Each card was a rule?  2 of anything meant you take two drinks, 3, meant you take 3 drinks, etc.  And then on some cards, like 6, you’d GIVE 6 drinks to someone else.  And a joker meant you took a shot of Wild Turkey.  Here’s the photo of my first shot of Wild Turkey from that very night.

r-l: Me, Tom, Meat

Like I said, we knew how to party.  From that night forward, when I got loaded, my nickname became “Jim”.  And as I took a shot, they’d say, “Here comes Jim!!” Anyway, who gives a crap about that?  There’s loads of people who partied harder.  We party better. 

The best stimulant imaginable is music, and I heard some of the best music ever at those parties. The first time I ever heard Kyuss was at the party at Tom’s place in London.  He didn’t start with Kyuss, though.  He started with some bootleg Black Sabbath video from 1970.  It was taped in some…well, it probably was a highschool cafeteria.  That’s what it looked like.  It was awesome.  It was easily in the top five times I ever truly had my mind blown.

During “Black Sabbath” itself, Ozzy got this crazed look in his eye!  You could see it!  Then he just started going mad on stage, thrashing about, that leather jacket of his flailing about him.  Ozzy’s said before he has another person inside him when he gets crazy, someone they call “Him”.  Maybe what they captured on tape that night was an appearance by “Him”?  Who knows?

The cool thing though is another of my top five mind-blows of all time happened that night too.  Kyuss. I made a nice bed on the floor out of pillows and blankets and stuff, and I passed out in front of the stereo.  I woke up a short time later, as some of the guys were heading out (walking) to catch last call at the local pop shop.  I just kind of laid there listening to the music…I was falling in and out of consciousness to this heavy, drony music.  It was awesome.  I didn’t know who it was.

I was told the following morning that it was Kyuss.  Tom told me he left the Kyuss / Queens of the Stone Age split EP in the player.  From that I pieced together that the song I must have heard was “Fatso Forgotso”.   I still remember how it rolled over me like a wave that night.

We had to be up fairly early the next morning, as we were hitting a record show in London.  If you don’t know what a record show is, I’ll take a moment to explain.  If you do, skip the next paragraph

A record show is usually held in a large room like a conference room in a hotel, for example.  Dozens of vendors gathered their best, their overpriced, their rare, and their shelf warmers for you to pick through and haggle over.  They are a record store dude’s dream, and his VISA card’s nightmare.

Just to give you a taste, here’s some of my best finds.

  • At the show in question, I actually found the first two Japanese Quiet Riot albums with Randy Rhoads.
  • Elsewhere, I found a great book about Alice Cooper called Billion Dollar Baby that we’ll talk about another time.  I later found out it was worth many times what I paid.
  • LP of Faith No More’s incredible Angel Dust album which came with an exclusive remix of “MidLife Crisis”.
  • Oh, this isn’t a find, but we did see Greg Goddovitz (Goddo) at one.  He was wearing socks and sandals.

We had a greasy breakfast (sausage, eggs, toast, OJ) and headed out.  I remember it was freezing.  Then you get to the hotel, pay your admission (usually somewhere in the neighborhood of $8 or so) and go in.  And then you’d be sweating your parka off in this crowded room full of long-hairs, skullets, and mohawks.  Guy to girl ratio:  About 4-1.

Anyway, as I mentioned, I found these two Quiet Riot albums with Randy Rhoads.  I want to post a more detailed blog about this later on, because I truthfully don’t know if I bought a bootleg or a promo.  As far as I know there has never been a CD release of these two albums.  Yet, that doesn’t exclude that Sony might have pressed some sample copies as a prototype before deciding not to proceed.  Or perhaps they were threatened to be sued, who knows?  Metal Health was released on Pasha/Columbia which later was absorbed by Sony.  My CDs are marked as Sony promos.  Everything about the CDs screams “official” except that I am certain they didn’t officially release a CD anywhere at any time.

Regardless, they sound great and I paid what was then a fair price for a bootleg, which would have been $30 for a new, mint bootleg.  I would have been willing to pay up to $35 for a good sounding bootleg and they would always let you sample it anyway.  So I consider this one of my best scores.  I’ve never run across any other copies, bootleg or otherwise, since then.  It was meant to be.

We drove back to Kitchener tired as hell but it was worth it.  I’m sure there are people out there who don’t understand how you could pay $30 for a bootleg CD when you can just download it for free.  And I’m sure someone else could explain it to you better than I can, because I don’t really have a good reason why it’s worth it.

Except I fucking love music, and when you fucking love music, especially when it’s one of the first bands you ever liked, that’s what you do.

Part 13: Klassic Kwotes II

As with the first Klassic Kustomer Quotes, everything below is true.  Only the names have been changed to protect the guilty.  Here’s 10 more.

  • “Yeah, I’m the original drummer for the Rolling Stones.  I was first.  I helped those guys form the band.  Then they stole all my shit.  Bunch of assholes.”  Said to me by a confused guy about five years my senior.
  • “Where the fuck are my sunglasses?  I left them right here!  You must have taken them!  Where the fuck are my sunglasses?”  Said to us by a guy who had forgotten that he was wearing his sunglasses on his head.
  • “All five Backstreet Boys released solo albums on the same day!  How come you don’t have them?  Walmart has them!”  No such releases ever existed, by the way.
  • I admit that sometimes our “we buy used CD’s” sign could be confusing.  But I was still as surprised as any to hear the question, “How much will you give me for my royal wedding collector’s plates?”

 

  • After both a debit card and a credit card being declined, I was asked, “Will you take a cheque?  No?  How about my Sears card?”

 

  • “I saw Journey play the Casino last weekend.  They were AMAZING!  Steve Perry was amazing!  He still sings the same as he always did!  And he even still looks the same!”  Said to me by an excited lady who had no idea that she saw Journey with Steve Augeri.  Steve Perry quit the band five years earlier.  By the way, Augeri doesn’t even remotely resemble Steve Perry except they both have brown hair.
  • “It still plays fine.  I played it on the way here.  It didn’t skip.”  Said to me by a guy who didn’t noticed that his disc has a giant crack in it.
  • “Hey man, the owner always gives me a discount.”  This was a pretty common one.  Not many people had a discount, certainly not many that I didn’t know.  But this one kept going.  “I’m the one who gave him the idea for selling used CD’s.  I said, ‘Hey man you know what you gotta do?  Sell used CD’s.  That’s what you gotta do.  Sell them used CD’s and you’ll make a mint.’  That’s what I said to George.”  The owner’s name was not George.
  • “Hey, if I buy a blank CD, can you guys just load it up full of good tunes for me?”  Comment not necessary.
  • And of course, my favourite.  “I’ve gotta take a shit real, real bad.  Can I use the can?  Like I gotta go so bad man, you have no idea.”  I’ll admit, it was against company policy to let any customer use the washroom in any situation, but I had to break the rules on this one.  After all, I actually had someone take a shit in my store before.  No, I’m not talking about me.  There’s this girl, and she shit her pants in the store, and I don’t think she even knew it.  I still see her at the mall sometimes.  You never…ever…forget the face of someone who took a shit in their pants right in front of you.  The smell…was ungodly.  She stepped up to the counter.  She asked a question.  She asked numerous questions.   The stink was so bad!  I stood as far back as possible without trying to look like I was stepping back as far as possible.  I stepped on a CD case against the wall, the crack was audible.  And she kept asking questions.  I will never be convinced in a million years that this girl even knew she had shit her pants.

 

Part 12: The Pepsi Power Hour

RECORD STORE TALES Part 12:  The Pepsi Power Hour

I’m going to take you back in time a bit.  Back to a time before the record store….

I remember back to the 80’s and early 90’s when MuchMusic was king. Back when there was no Jersey Shore and they played actual music videos.  There was no internet at that time, so you had to go to the store to buy your music (more often than not, on cassette). To hear new bands, you watched videos on Much and listened to the radio. There was no YouTube.

There was this frickin’ awesome show on Much back in the day — you remember it. It was originally only on once a week (Thursdays at 4 if I recall) and was hosted by one John “J.D.” Roberts. Yeah, the CNN guy. After he left, the hosting slot rotated between Michael Williams, Steve Anthony, Erica Ehm and Laurie Brown and then finally the late Dan Gallagher. Despite his long hair, Dan didn’t know a lot about metal — he didn’t know how to pronounce “Anthrax” and had never heard of Ratt. But that show was by far the best way to hear new metal back in the day.

That show was THE POWER HOUR.

It was so popular that they eventually had two a week, Tuesdays and Thursdays at 4, which was awesome for me since by 1989 I was working every Thursday at Zehrs.  I could still catch one a week, usually.

I remember tuning in, VCR at the ready to check out all the new videos and catch onto the newest bands. There was this band called Leatherwolf that I found via Hit Parader magazine and first heard on the Power Hour. I loved that band. There was another band called Sword from Montreal. Psycho Circus. Faith No More. Skid Row. Armored Saint. Testament. You could always count on the Power Hour to have Helix on. That show rocked.

They had some of the best interviews as well.  Usually they’d have someone come in and co-host for an hour.  They had everybody from Gene Simmons to Brian Vollmer to Lemmy.  In depth stuff too, at times.

Then in 1990 something else cool happened. I discovered a magazine called M.E.A.T (the periods were for no reason at all, just to look cool like W.A.S.P. but eventually they decided it stood for “Metal Events Around Toronto”). M.E.A.T was awesome because it was monthly, free, and had in depth articles clearly written by knowledgable fans. There was no magazine with that kind of deep coverage. Even Slash loved M.E.A.T, at a time when Guns hated rock magazines! I loved M.E.A.T so much I eventually sent them $10 to subscribe to a free magazine.  I did this on a yearly basis.

I discovered a whole bunch of great bands via that magazine. I Mother Earth, Slash Puppet, Russian Blue, Jesus Christ, not to mention they were way ahead of the curve on alternative. They had a Nirvana concert review back in 1989. They got behind Soundgarden way before they were cool. And you could count on them hanging onto the oldies. They’d put an indi band from Toronto on the cover one month, and put Black Sabbath on the cover the next month.  Next issue they’d have an in-depth interview with Kim Mitchell.  They’d talk about bands that nobody else did.

Their CD reviews were my bible! My music hunting was probably 90% based on their reviews, especially since by then the Power Hour had changed into the 5 day weekly Power 30 hosted by Teresa Roncon, and sucked.  The started playing too much thrash and grunge and never gave the old bands a shot anymore.

Things have changed so much now. I never get into new bands anymore, back then I used to just eat them up. I guess new bands just don’t interest me anymore. I like my old time rock and roll. I did buy the new Sheepdogs, twice.  The last new band I got totally and 100% excited about was The Darkness, and that was, what…2003?

Yet I can’t get into these new metal bands. The music sounds so sterile to my aging ears. The rock has lost its balls. The album I have been most excited about in 2012 was the new Van Halen — a band that is approaching 40 years old. But my God does it rock.  Kiss and Black Sabbath both have new records coming out, and I’m excited about them, but I could two shits about the new Nickelback.

In a lot of ways, it’s a better time for music now.  With eBay and Amazon I’ve managed to fill nearly every gap in my music collection.  There are some bands that I now have complete sets of, and others that I am achingly close.  I’m missing 4 Maiden EP’s and 1 Deep Purple import, for example.  Back in the 80’s you didn’t have access to this.  You didn’t even have access to an accurate and complete discography.  It wasn’t until the internet that this kind of information was even available.

Aside from that, today kind of sucks for music.  Sure, it’s easier to find new bands now, but we did OK in the 80’s.  M.E.A.T turned me on to lots of bands, and they were always giving away sampler cassettes.  Much played all the new videos by all the  metal bands at least once, basically.  You had to work a little harder, but we only appreciated the music more.  It wasn’t disposable.

And there were a lot more new bands around that just plain rocked!

Part 11: Klassic Kwotes I!

1. Once, we opened a CD case to find a small piece of paper inside.  The customer said, “Ahh, can’t forget my spliff paper!”

2. We were once approached by a man in a cheap suit at the counter, who asked, “Do you like the drugs?  Do you like the crack?”

3. “You got any Luta?” I was once asked by a large man with a heavy Carribean accent.  Luta, that’s what we all heard, like “loo-tah” with emphasis on the “loo”.  We asked him to spell it?  He couldn’t.  I said, “Is it L-u-t-a?” to which he responded, “Yeah, man.”  Well a search for Luta revealed nothing.  We went back and forth for 10 minutes before he finally mentioned “Dance With My Father”.  Luta.  Luther.  Luther Vandross.

4. “Don’t worry, I ain’t got AIDS or nothin’!”  This was once said to us by a man who handed us a Beach Boys box set, covered in his own blood.

5. “Do you have any of that lesbian music?” This was asked of me by a middle-aged lady.  All I could respond with was, “Uhhh…I don’t think that’s an actual genre of music?”

6. We once saw a guy looking at the booklet for the new Fleetwood Mac album, The Dance.  We asked if he would like to listen to it, and he said, “Nah.  Just checking out the babes.”

7. “Dave Matthews Band, and Matthew Good Band.  What’s the difference?”   Uhhh…they both spell, and pronounce, their names differently.

8. We had a big sign, and all our ads said “WE BUY USED CD’S”  One day a guy pulled up on a bike with a milk crate full of records on the back.  It was close to 40 degrees (celcius) that day but he pulled up on a bike.  A bicycle, leather jacket, 40 degrees, milk crate full of records.  He was really pissed off when we told him we didn’t take records.  “Well you should fucking advertize that!  Do you know who I am?”  Obviously a mover and a shaker, you and your whack bike.

9. Remember that Japanese lady that was asking me about Chris Cornell when I first started at the record store?  If not, read back.  She kept coming back, and back, and back.  We’ll call her N.  One day, N came in, and she was in a bad mood already.  “Where’s my treat?  Where’s my treat?”  What?  “My treat?  Are you retarded?  Where’s my treat?”  We had a sign outside that that, “bring your used CDs in for some brand new beats, come in you owe yourself a treat!”

10. “This right here…this is the best CD in the whole store,” said a kid holding a Creed album.

11. This next one, I mean absolutely no disrespect or meanness.  It was just cute, ’tis all.   A young fellow with a Scottish accent came in one day, and said, “Excuse me sir, but do you have any of Mr. Arrow Smith?”  I got him their latest, which was Big Ones at the time.

12. “Whoops.  I just tooted!” said N another time.

13. Again, this one was frequent.  “Do you have anything by that country guy who always wears the hat?”

14. “Is it true that Marilyn Manson once killed a kid?  And he tried to get rid of the body by burning it in the oven?  But the cops came, and Manson escaped out the back door.  The cops said, ‘Smells like children’ when they opened the oven, but Manson was outside listening and that’s how he named the album Smells Like Children, right?”

 15. Yes, the above is a real question.

16. There was another Manson one, this one about time travel.  If you check one of his albums, whichever one was released in 1996, the liner notes reveal one song was written and recorded 1997.  Typo or mindfuck, or…time travel?  My customer said to me, “Manson travelled forward in time to 1997, to the day the world will end.  Then he travelled back in time to now, to warn us about the end of the world.”  Marilyn Manson invented time travel?  Well then what the fuck has Stephen Hawking been doing all these years?

Part 10: What’s it like, working in a record store?

Yours Truly

Everybody always wanted to know how awesome it was to work in a record store.  They all had this Empire Records idea of it when the truth is much closer to High Fidelity.  I kind of considered myself a combination of the John Cusack and Jack Black characters.  I ran the place like Cusack, but I was a Jack Black-like smartass.  Black played a character named Barry.  You know that scene where the guy in the suit is looking for the song, “I Just Called To Say I Love You”?

Customer: Hi, do you have the song “I Just Called To Say I Love You?” It’s for my daughter’s birthday.
Barry: Yeah, we have it.
Customer: Great great… Well, can I have it?
Barry: No, you can’t.
Customer: Why not?!
Barry: Because it’s sentimental tacky crap that’s why! Do we look like a store that sells “I Just Called to Say I Love You”? Go to the mall!
Customer: What’s your problem?!
Barry: Do you even know your daughter? There’s no way she likes that song! Oh oh oh wait! Is she in a coma?
Customer: Oh, okay buddy. I didn’t know it was Pick on the Middle-Aged Square Guy Day. My apologies. I’ll be on my way.
Barry: Buh-bye!
Customer: Fuck you!

I never quite went that far, but I was always fond of the subtle insults.  I was also known for being stubbornly obtuse.  Like for example, the guy who couldn’t pronounce “Triumph”.  I knew very well what band he was looking for, but he kept saying, “Tramp”.  He didn’t know how to spell it either.  Just the very idea that he couldn’t spell nor pronounce the word “triumph”…how could I not have fun with that guy?  I eventually sold him The Sport of Kings, when I felt like he’d earned it. 

Spelling was an issue in this part of town.  We had a lookup terminal where you could search for inventory on your own.  The best question I ever got at that terminal was, “Mike, how do you spell ‘metal’?  I don’t spell so good.”

In short, stuff grinds your gears just like it does at anybody’s job.  There are times when you saw a number on call display and just did not want to answer.  Just like any job.  Annoying callers, annoying customers, lazy customers who made you do absolutely everything for them, including pick what they want to buy!

You had sales quotas just like any day job.  You had responsibilities to get done.  If they weren’t done, you can’t just say “we were really busy” if your sales numbers weren’t big.   And you had to do things accurately.  In any environment where you buy and sell used goods, you had to be sure of what you were buying and what you were paying for it.  This is made just as difficult in a music store as anywhere else, due to the multiple versions, reissues, special editions, and imports of a CD that determine just what it’s worth.  You could go from offering $2 to $20 for a single album, the exact same title, just a different version thereof.

Same album different versions, and none of these are even the standard version. How would you price them?

And customers really hated being told their discs were “too scratched to re-sell.”  They really hated that one.

You got to listen to tunes all day, that was true.  That is something that I thankfully still do today, thanks to the radio.  I actually prefer the radio to choosing store play discs.  You were so tightly constrained by various rules, which narrowed the scope.  I actually loathed picking store play discs.  If I was working to someone else, I often just said, “You pick, I’ll pick something later.”

Lo and behold, I still have a copy of the store play rules!  I’m a packrat.  I keep everything.

  • Forbidden bands list:  Kiss, Rush, Frank Zappa, Spinal Tap, Dio, Judas Priest
  • Nothing heavier than Metallica’s “black” album
  • No musicals, no classical, no instrumental
  • Must play one new release in every shift
  • Must play 5 discs in shuffle mode, must never play album all the way through except in specific promotional cases
  • Each of the 5 discs must be a different genre
  • No songs with swearing
  • No rap
  • No comedy
  • Could only play discs that were in stock for sale instore

Jazz, soul, indy, and oldies were encouraged.  Hard rock was especially discouraged. 

Of course we broke the rules. If I knew there was no chance of getting caught, I’d bring in my own discs from home all the time.  The best shift I ever had, I played all 5 discs of the Kiss box set, in a row!  I played lots of shit with swearing, all the time.  It wasn’t intentional of course, it’s just that sometimes a great album has swearing on it, and I like to listen to great albums.  Sinatra at the Sands, for example.

We sold Sinatra at the Sands in minutes, by the way…by playing it instore.

I played Dio all the time when I could get away with it, even though he was strictly off limits. 

I remember Tom walking in, during Holy Diver. 

“Wow.  That’s ballsy man,” he said.

I played Spinal Tap once, but one of my buddies got written up for doing the same thing.  Seriously.  That time I was playing Spinal Tap, there was this guy seriously rocking out to it.  He didn’t look like a fan though.  He walked up to me and said, “Sounds like you got some Sons of Freedom going on here!”  Oops!

And I played heavy stuff too.  I know I played Maiden in the store, any night I could.  (Astute readers will recall that Maiden is where we started.  Go back to Part 1 if you haven’t.)  I remember two little kids laughing at Bruce Dickinson’s shrieking during a live take of “Fear of the Dark”.  But, I also remember lots of cool kids in Kiss shirts, buying their first rock albums, and it was cool corrupting those kids.

So what did I have to complain about?  Well, I only played those albums when I could get away with it.  Which wasn’t often.  There was usually someone  in there store who could give you shit for it.

So you’d have to put up with the following:  Much Dance xx, Big Shiny Tunes, TLC, Christmas music all day while seasonal, Dave Matthews band, Linkin Park, plenty of new country, and whatever was the flavour of the month at the time.  There’s a reason I know entire albums inside and out by shitty band like The Dandy fucking Warhols.  I could tell you every fucking song on the first two Coldplay CDs.  I had the unfortunate fate of having to listen to the self titled album by Blur every fucking day for a month.  There are bands that I legitimately like, such as Oasis and Kula Shaker, that I rarely play at home anymore because I have heard them so many Goddamn times.  It sucks when you can’t stand music you actually like.

The record store will do that if you spend too many years there, and I spent too many years there.  Gratefully, I love music again.

The worst thing about the record store though were the cliques, and from what I’ve heard, many record store were like this.  You either fit in or you didn’t, and I definitely did not fit in.   They were all into the latest indy rock bands, and all wore sunglasses.   I’ve never been a sunglasses kind of guy.  Indoors, I think they’re just pretentious.  I tried, oh but I did try.  I went to their shitty bars and drank and pretended to have a good time, but I just couldn’t pretend that I liked the Dandy fucking Warhols.

But, if I didn’t experience all that, I guess I wouldn’t be LeBrain!

Part 9: Back to Toronto


Regardless of the Kiss concert experience, and swearing to never to return to Toronto, Trev and I were both back there two weeks later.  We hit all the record stores one Sunday afternoon, did the whole record store tour, and were back late afternoon.  Awesome day.

I came looking for Deep Purple, and Deep Purple I scored!  I picked up the 25th Anniversary Edition of Deep Purple In Rock, which is a gorgeous CD.  Coming in a delicate CD case with autographs etched into it, it must be handled and stored carefully.  Mine is still pristine despite it being one of the greatest rock albums of all time.  I simply keep it in a plastic sleeve on my shelf, and never let the case itself leave the house.  I can put the CD into another case for transportation, or listen to it in mp3 format.

Yeah, I’m obsessive, but you break that case on me and you die.  They don’t make that sucker anymore!

I also snapped up the accompanying single for “Black Night”, which was numbered and came with two bonus Roger Glover remixes that did not make the 25th Anniversary album.  I can’t recall picking up anything else, but I’m sure I did.  Trev and I, we didn’t do record store shopping small. If we went down there specifically for an $80 Japanese import, we wouldn’t leave without it.  And yeah, we did pay $80 for a Japanese import when we wanted it badly enough.  Often, it might have been just for one or two songs.

Appropriately, I was wearing my Deep Purple Machine Head T-shirt.  I’ll never forget this detail. 

The same homeless man that helpfully told us that the solution to our transmission problem was to “pack that sucker full of grease” was back in the same place.  As we passed him, he asked for some change, and commented, “Right on, awesome album, man!”

Gotta give the guy credit for his taste in music, if not his skill with transmissions.