A Coda to #689: Fuck iTunes
This one comes from reader Harrison From Down Unda. Harrison, as you know, is a huge Iron Maiden fan. Recently on the subject of shaving my beard off, he suggested I do the half-beard, like Bruce Dickinson did in 1986.
Little did Harrison know that I was way ahead of him, having already done it (and my head) years ago!
Welcome to the first ever Reader Spotlight at mikeladano.com! It’s time to turn the mirror on you!
If you enjoy this feature, it might be the first of several. Be sure to let us know.
There’s a story about how this came to be. The timeline is as follows:
2012: Aaron FINDS THE SULTANS ALBUM and gives it to me for Christmas!
2018: Reader Harrison from Australia alerts me that there is a 2 CD “deluxe edition” of Casual Sex in the Cineplex, in stock at the Canadian Amazon store.
In gratitude, I decided to do a Reader Spotlight on Harrison, a pretty cool guy who has now helped me solidify my music collection even further. Harrison graciously agreed. We had a chat and I asked him ten questions. Then he went and added more on his own!
M: So Harrison, tell us how old you are and where you live, and what you’re doing at school.
H: I’m eighteen (nineteen in July). I live in Perth, Western Australia and I’m currently at university studying Professional Writing and Economics.
M: How did you discover heavy metal?
H: Pure chance, almost. My dad likes Led Zeppelin a lot and my mother likewise with AC/DC, so I guess I kind of always had it in my life but is wasn’t until my uncle passed on his CD collection to my family after digitizing it that I experienced a moment of clarity (to quote LeBrain). Among the many other discs of varying genres was a battered copy of Iron Maiden’s Best of the Beast (2 CD edition but only disc 1 included). By the first chorus of the third song (“Man on the Edge”) I was hooked. That disc got a lot of play thereafter and is single handedly responsible for starting my love of metal.
M: This helps explain why you love the Blaze era so much! Was there ever any other music you loved this much?
H: My dad has varied musical tastes and a diverse collection, so I got to experience a wide variety of artists. Before Iron Maiden came along my favourite band was the Electric Light Orchestra
M: Top five bands — GO!
H: Oh dear, I was dreading this question. Very difficult to do a top five, but here I go anyway.
1. Iron Maiden
2. Black Sabbath
3. Deep Purple
5. Electric Light Orchestra
(Honourable Mentions – Ozzy, Alice Cooper, Blaze, Zeppelin, Slade)
M: You’ve guest reviewed here before and I don’t think you’re done writing reviews. What’s next?
H: Well I’ve got some tales to tell but seeing as you can’t write your memoirs at age 20 that will have to wait until I’m older and (hopefully) wiser. I’m planning for it now though. I enjoy writing and discussing the reviews, so I hope to guest more in the future. I just want to keep them few and far between, to preserve the occasion.
M: Who would win in a street fight: Ozzy or Alice Cooper.
H: Hmm…yes…very deep question…very philosophical. They would never fight though. Ozzy can’t leave his mic stand for more than ten seconds, and Alice is too nice.
But for the sake of the question, Alice would. His head is bigger than a bat’s so he safe, and he once pulled a gun on Elvis. (Although he was promptly shown by Elvis how to deal with an armed man when you are unarmed.)
M: That’s right, Elvis was into Karate. Why the heck do you keep coming back here to read the garbage I post?
H: Firstly, it’s not garbage. Secondly, funny you should ask that, because there’s a bit of a tale involved (there’s a Japanese bonus paragraph if you want). In short, I stumbled upon your 2 CD Best of the Beast review a while back, and I enjoyed it a lot. The personal style and in-depth review was far better than the mediocrity I could scrape up from other sites. I liked it so much that I kept coming back to it (although I did disagree with some points). Eventually I branched out into other Maiden reviews before going the whole hog. It was definitely your writing style that hooked me at the start, followed by your great insights, humour and personality that kept me here.
M: Well thanks! Speaking of writers: Heavy Metal OverLOAD, or OverLORD?
H: Overload (which would make a decent Metallica album title).
M: Do you get a lot of concerts down your way?
H: Not really unfortunately. Of the classic rock and metal bands, AC/DC come here often. Sabbath has a couple times (they even filmed a DVD in Melbourne for some reason). Maiden seem to do it mainly for the album tours. While I’m sure we get a decent amount of concerts here, most of them are not by bands I would see (which might have something to do with the fact that most of them are pensioners now).
M: If you want LeBrain readers to know just one thing about you, what would that be? GO!
Bass – Geezer Butler
Lead Guitar -Joe Satriani
Rhythm Guitar – Tony Iommi
Drums – Nicko McBrain
Vocals – James Hetfield
Keyboards – John Paul Jones
Acoustic/Harmony Guitar – Adrian Smith
Stats of Doom:
First album – Iron Maiden – Killers
First Concert – Haven’t been to one yet. Hoping Iron Maiden’s Legacy of the Beast Tour will be the one.
First Vinyl – Iron Maiden – Maiden Japan (notice a theme yet?)
First Bootleg -Iron Maiden – 24th May 1981
First album bought twice – None yet thankfully
Current Collection size – 45 jewel cases/digipaks
Thanks Harrison for taking part! If you enjoyed this Reader Spotlight, please do let us know in the comments. You could be next!
GETTING MORE TALE #666: 666
“Here is Wisdom, Let him that hath understanding count the number of the beast.”
Ye metal fans! You have all heard of the number of the Beast, but do you actually know what it is? Iron Maiden mined the Bible for lyrical ideas in the early days. The Book of Revelation was a favourite of theirs. Of the Beast, it tells us that we can identify him by his number. This is not Satan himself, but the first Beast of the apocalypse, the end of the world. The Beast, it says, comes from the sea. There are many interpretations of the Revelations. Three main schools of thought are that these are prophecies of events that already occurred, will occur in the future, or are happening now in the present day.
The Beast will “rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy. (Revelation 13:1)” Scholars say the seven heads represent seven kings. The 10 crowns are 10 more kings that have yet to be crowned. With an appearance like that, why do we need a number to identify the Beast?
Relevation is a symbolic book of the Bible and no one really claims to understand it all. The apocalyptic writings say that the Beast and the false prophet will muster the armies of the world against the man on the “white horse”. When they lose, they are tossed into a “lake of fire”. Some theologians believe the number 666 symbolizes the nations of the Earth that are in conflict with God. In the 1980s, some thought that 666 represented President Reagan, whose full name, Ronald Wilson Reagan, is three names of six letters each – 666. Indeed, Reagan changed his Bel-Air address from 666 St. Cloud Road to 668.
With the imagery and mystery inside, the Book of Revelation is great source material for heavy metal lyrics. The Bible has always been a source for popular music. Pete Seeger wrote “Turn! Turn! Turn!” around the Book of Ecclesiastes, but Revelations is great for darker themes. Iron Maiden (and even Anvil) made the number of the Beast famous to the secular community. Every metal head knows the number of the Beast. Or do they?
It turns out, the number may have been wrong all along. Older and older fragments of the Bible are constantly being unearthed. The oldest manuscript of Revelation chapter 13 (Papyrus 115) found to date is 1700 years old. This ancient fragment gives the number of the Beast as 616.
Scholars today are split. Many think 616 is the original number of the Beast, later changed to the more interesting 666 for aesthetic reasons. Try this trick with a calculator or spreadsheet: The sum of the numbers 1 through 36 is 666.
If this is true, Iron Maiden has a lot to revise, and metal fans may have some tattoos to fix!
GETTING MORE TALE #653: The Reset King (Music and Gaming and other stories)
A sequel to #652: Evolution ’80s: Music and Gaming
Perhaps the greatest awakening I ever had in my life was the moment I first heard Iron Maiden. It was so important to me, it was the first chapter of Record Store Tales — Part 1, “Run to the Hills”. At that early age, music and video games collided I was never the same again. Since that time, music has always been intertwined with gaming and my best buddy Bob. All three combined were responsible for my rock n’ roll epiphany.
Bob and I played a lot of Atari on the weekends. Both families had the Atari 2600, but we both had different selections of games. Depending on whose house we were at, we’d play different games. “Gorf” was one game he had that I didn’t. It was a shooter like “Space Invaders” but with different kinds of levels. More than going for a high score, it was important for us to try and make it through all the levels. Atari games were so limited. “Gorf” had five distinct levels so it was more rewarding to see all five than to rack up high scores.
Same with “Frogger”. That was one of my games, and Bob was very competitive on it. As you progressed up the levels, more obstacles were thrown in your way, like snakes for example. It was exciting to make it to a new level for the first time, but “Frogger” was a hair-triggered game where timing was everything. And Bob used to get very, very excitable when a game of “Frogger” went wrong. That is how he earned the nickname The Reset King.
Here was his thinking. If you lose a level early in “Frogger”, the chances of making it to a new high level were greatly reduced. Bob would rather reset the game than try in futility. So, he’d dive for that reset button on the Atari console, usually while yelling something at the game. “The game is cheating!” was a favourite.
The game is cheating indeed, I suppose. It was easier to let him reset than argue that an Atari 2600 wasn’t sophisticated enough to “cheat” at a video game. “Frogger” was very touchy, but it wasn’t particularly glitchy. If you so much as touched a car, you were dead even if it didn’t technically “hit” you. So it could get frustrating, sure. We would have to eventually cut Bob off from resets or nobody else would get a turn.
And so, he was crowned the Reset King by my dad, who worried he was going to break the damn switch. It was a title Bob rejected because the game was cheating, and because David Dolph across the street was way worse with the reset button.
David Dolph was this bratty kid across the street. His weird family wouldn’t let them play with any toys with guns, like G.I. Joe. But David was no dummy. He had a Transformers collection, because he didn’t tell his mom they came with guns. He was also destructive, and if you let David Dolph near your toys, he’d probably wreck them. We didn’t like David Dolph, but one afternoon we found ourselves at his house playing video games in the basement. It was there that David Dolph faced the Reset King.
They didn’t have an Atari, but they did have a Commodore Vic 20 that you could play games on. We were playing there in the basement, when the Reset King decided to start a game over because it “cheated” early on.
“No fair!” yelled David Dolph. “No fair! It’s my turn now!” He tried to wrestle the controller from Bob’s hand, who didn’t budge. In fact he just continued to stare intently at the TV and play, with the corners of his mouth attempting to conceal a smile. Giving up the fight over the controller, David Dolph burst into tears and ran upstairs. Bob kept playing, a huge grin now upon his face. We stayed until Bob finished playing games!
David Dolph was a weird kid. His parents were really strict and wouldn’t let them listen to music, except for Bruce Springsteen. They approved of the Boss, but heavy metal was satanic to them. The kid was over at our house one afternoon when I was watching music videos on TV with Bob. He was visibly upset by “Rock You” by Helix, and left the house. About a decade later, he sure changed. I often heard him blasting Savatage’s “Hall of the Mountain King” from his bedroom window when his parents weren’t around.
Maybe it’s the narcissist in me, but who was he blasting Savatage for? By that time, Bob and I weren’t even talking to him, so I always wondered if he was blasting it at us.
As much fun as we had over the years, you had to be patient when gaming with Bob. If you wanted play with him, you had to let the Reset King have his way.
The reset button never broke. In fact we still have the same Atari 2600. It works, and we still have all the cartridges…except one. My sister never forgave me for trading away “Superman”. However, I traded “Superman” for my first Kiss (Record Store Tales Part 3: My First Kiss) so clearly I had the greater good in mind.
What did break…frequently…were the controllers. And that wasn’t Bob’s fault. Bob owned an Atari and took good care of his stuff. He was brought up in a Dutch household that understood the value of working for something and taking care of it. None of Bob’s things were broken like David Dolph’s. No, Bob didn’t break our controllers. They were broken by Cousin Geoffrey. Cousin Geoffrey broke…everything.
My cousin is now a father himself, and he understands things a little differently now. I think he doesn’t hold it against me when I say he was fucking annoying to play Atari or Nintendo with. More annoying than the Reset King or David Dolph!
Geoffrey destroyed about three Atari joysticks. I was pretty good at taking them apart and repairing them, but there was only so much I could do. An Atari joystick was a plastic handle that activated four switches on a circuitboard underneath. Geoffrey would push those joysticks so hard that the plastic inside would shatter. I could take it apart and use hot glue to give the inner plastic frame some strength but it was a temporary fix at best. You had to buy new controllers. My dad eventually decreed that Geoffrey was only allowed to play with old, refurbished controllers, not the new ones.
Geoffrey destroyed our original Transformers G1 Frenzy figure, on Christmas day, the same day we got it! He was just a destructive child, and what he didn’t destroy he simply lost. I’ll give you some examples of the chaos he caused.
First trip to Alberta, August 1979. l-r Mike, Geoffrey “Captain Destructo”, and Kathryn
In August 1979, the family took our first trip to Alberta. It was a two week tour starting in Edmonton and going through the mountains. My sister, my cousin and I were often given the same toys to play with, so we wouldn’t fight over them. My sister and my cousin were both given dinky cars of the Batmobile. Were they ever cool. They came with a little metal trailer and a plastic Bat Boat you could tow. We had a lot of fun playing dinky cars on those floors of Alberta motels. They were also small enough to carry around in your pockets.
Geoffrey threw his first Batmobile off a mountain in Jasper. He just wanted to see what would happen if he threw the Batmobile off a moutain. A second Batmobile was bought for him on the same trip. That Batmobile was flushed down the toilet of a rest stop in Canmore. He was eventually given a third Batmobile, which, as far as I know, survived a little longer than the other two.
Geoffrey “Captain Destructo” (in cap) sulking after sacrificing the Batmobile to the Mountain Gods.
Another incident of soul-crushing toy waste happened in the summer of 1983. This time, Geoffrey was visiting us in Ontario. It was the summer of Return of the Jedi. The new figures were out. My mom took us to Zellers and bought each of us a new toy. I chose Luke Skywalker, partly because he came with so many accessories. He came with a new lightsaber, a gun and a cloth cape. Geoffrey got the same figure. We then waited on a bench while my mom did her banking.
“Come on let’s open these,” said Geoffrey. My sister and I always waited until we got home.
Geoffrey ripped open his Luke.
“Why are you opening that now? You’re going to lose the gun. Just wait until we get home. This is our last stop.” I attempted to reason with my cousin but he had Luke out of the package.
Within the first five minutes, he lost the gun. Before we made it home, he lost the lightsaber too.
“I told you so,” was something I relished saying to him. My Luke, by the way, still has all his accessories 35 years later.
What these tales tell us is that cousin Geoffrey was a monsoon of chaos and utter destruction. He also had all the latest stuff, and that included video games. Fortunately for his parents, the original Nintendo Entertainment System had very robust, button-based controllers. He couldn’t break them. He was really good at “Super Mario Bros.” and “Mike Tyson’s Punch Out”. Unfortunately this meant my sister and I didn’t get much gaming time. We died early and often, and he played long lives while earning extra ones. His turns were much longer than ours.
We saw him make it to Mike Tyson once. That was pretty cool. Once he almost made it, but my dad walked in front of the TV during a fight and caused Geoffrey to lose. Boy he sure threw a fit that time!
Here’s the funny thing. When we were kids, my cousin took a lot of energy and patience to keep entertained. When he hit his 20s, he really mellowed out and we bonded like we never have before. And what did we bond over? Music and video games.
I took a trip out to Alberta for a week in 1997. He took me shopping to a couple music stores in Calgary, used and new. I found a rare CD featuring the early one of somebody named Dave Grohl. It was the band Scream, and the CD was No More Censorship. I was kicking off a love affair with Foo Fighters and it was a seriously cool find. Geoffrey was (and always has been) into to Tragically Hip, so I got him a CD by a similar sounding band called the Barstool Prophets. Meanwhile, he turned me onto the Gandharvas with their last album Sold For a Smile. Killer album that I still love (and own two different copies of).
At night, he introduced me to one of the best racing games I’ve ever played. For the N64 system, we spent hours on “Top Gear Rally”. It was such an immersive game for its time. We designed our cars, we discovered shortcuts, and had a blast seeing how far we could make it.
Once again, it wasn’t best scores or best times that mattered. It was seeing how far you could get. Getting to the third or fourth level was rare and required serious skill. It was the most fun I’d had playing video games in many years!
All these memories flow like a stream of consciousness, triggered by certain songs. Early Kiss, AC/DC and Quiet Riot will forever be associated with the old Atari 2600 in the basement. Bob was a constant gaming companion, and he sets off even more memories. Discovering music together, like Whitesnake and Kiss albums. All hail the Reset King. Long may he reign!
#652: Evolution ’80s: Music and Gaming
We had a big old IBM PC with dual 5 1/4″ floppy disk drives. That meant you could copy disks from your friends much faster and easier, and so we did. It wasn’t very powerful and we only had a monochrome monitor, but back then you had virtually unlimited access to free software. Copy protection usually took the form of the game asking you for information that can only be found in the game manual. So, you would just go to the library and photocopy the manual from your friend.
My dad worked at the bank at the mall, and he had a number of customers who did him cool favours over the years. One such friend was a fellow named Scully. Every once in a while, he’d come to my dad with a list of video game titles. Dad would bring it home, give it to us, and say “Circle any games you want.” My dad would buy a pack of 5 1/4″ floppy discs, and a week or two later they’d come back full of games. “Flight Simulator” (version 1.0), “King’s Quest”, “Alleycat”, “Sierra Championship Boxing”, “Lode Runner”, “Executive Suite”, “Rogue”, “Janitor Joe”, “Decathlon”, and “Evolution” were some of the game titles written on the floppy discs that returned.
Best friend Bob, who was without a computer in his house, came often to play the new games. Back then, a PC was a luxury. Only a few families on the street had them. My dad’s was subsidised via work. And by the way, when families on the street had computers, that meant more access to free games.
Bob and I shared a mutual love of music, and so music was usually playing when we were gaming. Mom and dad were tolerate a little noise once in a while, and damn, we had such a good time.
One game that we played to an endless soundtrack of Iron Maiden (Live After Death predominantly) is unfortunately a title long forgotten. It was a grid-based shooting game, and the controls were so complex. You had four keys for moving, and four keys for shooting — one for each direction. Keyboards are not designed for that kind of gaming, and so playing alone was all but impossible as you mashed your fingers together trying to quickly move and shoot using eight keys.
Bob figured out how to play the game: as a team! He manned the firing keys and I moved the ship through this grid. It was about an 8×8 grid, approximated by hand below. As these alien things started moving around their rows and columns, I had to dodge blasts while setting Bob up for shots. You had to kill each alien twice. It required co-ordination, all enhanced by the steely bass of Steve Harris combined with the precision percussion that Nicko McBrain provides.
Another game that required coordination was “Decathlon“, which unfortunately drowned out any music we could play. My dad hated “Decathlon”. During the racing events, you “ran” by hammering on two keys as if you were running with your fingers. Bob and I discovered the best way to do it was two-handed — both pointer fingers at full speed. The clacking sound was a cacophony and my dad complained every time we played. The point of the game was to beat Bruce Jenner, so we had to do it. My dad hated Bruce Jenner because of that game.
Back to the teamwork: there were some events I could do well, while others only Bob could do, and one that required both of us hammering keys in unison. That was the pole vault. It began with someone doing the run-hammering with their pointer fingers on two keys. The other person had to use four keys to 1) plant the pole in the ground, 2) jump, 3) pull a handstand on the pole, and 4) release. Music didn’t help with the pole vault — you were fucked if you weren’t focused completely on your little digital man.
Some days I played solo. Bob was a couple years older and had a part time job at Harvey’s. There were a few games we had for playing against the computer. I obsessed over Sierra “Championship Boxing” one summer: 1988. Ace Frehley had a new album out, Second Sighting, and he happened to have a boxing related track called “The Acorn in Spinning”. The game allowed you to create all kinds of your own custom boxers, so I created a whole storyline about one I built called Acorn.
One of the aforementioned games, “Evolution“, was a lot harder without Bob. I picked it because one night, watching TV with my parents back in the early 80s, there was a story on about a new Canadian software company called Distinctive Software, based out of British Columbia. They were being spotlighted for a new and very original video game they released: “Evolution”. Through a series of levels, you had to evolve from a single-celled organism to an amphibian to mammal and up the ladder to humanity. It was praised for being different from the average computer game. The whole premise was so cool, and the actual gameplay so awful…not to mention, even as kids, we knew that humans didn’t evolve from beavers.
Level 1: the amoeba. You’re an amoeba floating around and trying to eat all the little edible blue dots around you, while trying to avoid a weird spinny eyeball looking thing that launches little purple spiky things at you. You can also, like, electrify your amoeba for a little while to protect yourself. You have five lives, but I used to typically burn three or even all five on this first level.
Level 2: the tadpole. A little easier this time. Just move side to side and jump to avoid fish, and to catch food. The simplicity of the controls meant you could make it through, losing minimal lives.
Level 3: the rodent. Dig little mouse tunnels and drop poisonous mouse poops behind you to block it again. Avoid being eaten by the snakes. Be careful you don’t use up all your poops too soon.
Level 4: the beaver, yes, a fucking beaver. Avoid the alligators while retrieving five pieces of wood to build your dam. A surprisingly easy level.
Level 5: gorilla. Humans didn’t evolve from gorillas, but we do share long distant ancestors, closer than beavers anyway. In this strange level, you have to throw oranges at monkeys who are stealing your shit. Aiming those oranges was purely just a matter of luck. Game over here. If you ever make it to this level, congrats, but you’re done now. Only once, maybe twice over the years did I hit all the damn monkeys and move on to:
human instant death. As soon as your little fully-evolved human ejects from his neat space car, he is dead meat. Numerous robots and aliens enter immediately after, from every direction, and being shooting. You will have no chance, so just accept your fate instead of wishing you were still a gorilla. And you thought those monkeys were bad.
I love/hated that game so much. I wanted so bad to get to that final human level, and with Bob, we worked as a team to finally get there only for it to last a couple seconds at best.
Perhaps 1982’s “Evolution” had a deeper message. We climb the hill to the very top of the food chain on this world, only to be squashed immediately by whatever is waiting for us out there. It’s a classic science fiction dystopian theme.
Can we find a suitable heavy metal song to go with this doomed fate of alien or robotic annihilation? Of course we can! From 1988’s Ram It Down, another album I obsessed over during this period, it’s the apocalyptic “Blood Red Skies”.
Whatever your gaming soundtrack, I hope your memories are as good as mine.
GETTING MORE TALE #648: “The Mall”
For the first 23 or 24 years of my life, Stanley Park Mall was my epicenter. If I said “Mom, I’m going to the mall!” she knew where I meant. It wasn’t the biggest mall, and certainly not the best. But it was my mall.
This very typical mall, on Ottawa Street in Kitchener, opened in 1969. It was nothing special. There was nowhere to buy music, until it expanded with a Zellers store circa 1973. As small children, we weren’t interested in music yet. Instead it was Zellers’ toy section that had us enthralled.
In 1977 my mother took me to Stanley Park to look for a birthday present for a neighbor named John Schipper, older brother of my best friend Bob. “Look mom! The movie we just saw!” I exclaimed as I laid eyes on my first Star Wars figures. My mom bought C3P0 for John, and R2D2 for me, so we could play together. Little did she know what she got me into, by buying my first Star Wars figure at that Zellers store. But to be fair, who could have known?
The mall also had a bank, and my dad soon transferred there as its manager. I used to feel like such a big shot, strolling into my dad’s office. He’d let us sit at his desk and play with his calculator and telephone. I can even remember helping him with spelling on an internal memo! Once, when my sister was sitting in his chair, she pushed the button for the silent alarm. “Hmmm, this doesn’t do anything,” she thought. After she left, the cops arrived in force to answer the alarm. My dad realised what happened too late!
With my dad working there, plus the Zellers store, it was our main destination for shopping or just being kids. It was walking distance from home. When I was old enough to cross streets by myself, my friends and I made regular trips on our bikes. The Little Short Stop store was our main hangout. We would buy candy, pop, chips, comic books, and Star Wars or Indiana Jones cards. I managed to get a full set of The Empire Strikes Back, and Raiders of the Lost Ark. I got them slowly, pack by pack, and by trading with friends. There was a neighbor who had the one Indiana Jones card I still needed called “I Hate Snakes”. A trade was made and I completed my set. I wish I knew what happened to all the doubles and triples of those cards.
When I was older, that Little Short Stop was my store for amassing a huge collection of rock and wrestling magazines. Hit Parader was my main title and I had a complete set of every issue from 1987-1990.
The mall was also right close to our grade school. Many of my friends would “cut through” the mall as a short cut to get home. One fellow, Chris, tells me he was sometimes chased around by mall security. Naughty kid.
In 1987, something remarkable happened. Stanley Park Mall got its first actual record store: A&A Records and Tapes. Suddenly I had close access to all kinds of music, including 12” singles. I remember flipping through their Aerosmith and Europe singles, thinking “Woah, there are songs here I have never heard of.”
We still checked Zellers, but A&A became the place for us. In fact there were even A&A coupons on the back of every box of Kellogg’s Frosted Flakes. $1.00 off tapes! We sure cashed in a lot of A&A coupons that year. I loved checking out their front charts too. Vinyl was still happening, and the front chart was a big huge display of records. Much larger and more eye catching than a CD chart. I remember rejoicing when Judas Priest’s Ram It Down was on it.
I have clear memories of Bob Schipper and I walking to the mall in early April of 1988 to pick up a new release. Two copies of course; one for each of us. Iron Maiden’s Seventh Son of a Seventh Son was an album we had been looking forward to, and we both got it on that cold Saturday in April 1988. (It took a while to adjust to the new Maiden sound, but Bob’s immediate favourite was “Infinite Dreams”.)
In 1989 I got my first real job, and it was at that very mall. The grocery store Zehrs was my first pay cheque. I cut my hair short for that job and was teased for it at school. Not only that, but suddenly I also needed glasses! It was a pretty drastic image change. But it was a cool work experience. Not only was I working at Zehrs with my best friend Bob, but my dad was still working in the mall too. All three of us in one place!
I was pretty loyal to A&A during those years at the mall, but in 1990 they went under. The last thing I ever bought at an A&A (though a different location) was a CD of Steve Vai’s Flex-Able and some blank tapes.
Yet every cloud has a silver lining. A former employee of A&A Records at our mall location decided to open a business of his own. Guess who he went to for the bank loan? My dad! Six months after A&A closed, he opened his own record store in that mall. The rest is history. The store that I now call “The Record Store” hired me on in July of 1994. And he’s still in business in 2018, albeit not in that mall anymore which suffered a slow and steady decline in the 90s.
There are no record stores in the mall anymore. Zellers went under, and Walmart took over. Their tiny little entertainment section is the only place to buy a CD. The bank is still there, and so is the grocery store, but my Little Short Shop is long gone. There isn’t much left. No Baskin Robbins, no 31 flavors. Bargain shops and discount stores have replaced all the places I used to frequent as a kid. Sad, but not unexpected.
The strange thing is, as much as the mall has changed, I still get a huge shot of nostalgia when I walk into that Walmart that used to be my Zellers. Like a déjà vu, suddenly I am hit with the memory of finding a rare GI Joe, or flipping through Judas Priest tapes. The mall I knew from long ago is no longer the same, but the memory remains.
GETTING MORE TALE #631: The Locker Door
Before the first day of highschool even began, I had selected the posters I was going to hang up inside. For my first locker ever, at the beginning of grade nine, I chose Gene Simmons. It was a weird picture of him from the Asylum era, no makeup, and his tongue pinned to the neck of his bass by the strings. I was truly disappointed that girls found the picture repulsive and didn’t want to talk to me. I’m still proud that I was flying the Kiss flag right from day one. For some reason, I also had a picture of Mr. Mini Wheats, from a box of the same-named cereal.
Meanwhile, my best buddy Bob had something cooler. It was a poster of Bruce Dickinson, circa 1986, standing next to the giant stage Eddie from Somewhere in Time. Everybody seemed to agree that the new Blade Runner Eddie was the coolest one yet, and that poster was the envy of the hallway. When he was done with it, Bob passed the locker poster down to me. I was thrilled — so much that I used it again the next year.
Bob moved on to Samantha Fox. She took over from where Eddie and Bruce once were. “Hey, that one’s topless,” remarked the English teacher Mr. Payette as he strolled past. She was covering her modesty with her arms, but she was indeed missing her top.
In grade 10, Bob and I did something sneaky. On the first day of school, he advised me to bring an extra lock, and see if I could snag an extra, unoccupied locker. I did — right next to my own, in fact. So that year, Bob and I had this spare locker that we shared right next to mine. He had this little Nerf basketball set. You could hang a net from the locker door. We also had gotten into remote control cars. We stashed them in the spare locker and played with them during the lunch hour. We got caught by the stern science teacher, Mr. Branday. “Take this to the gym!” he shouted at us.
Branday was a weird guy. Every year, he began his science class with the same line. “Science is a tool of the mind. With it, one can open more doors than with the bare hands alone!”
Bob and I had such a good time, that year of the two lockers. A fresh succession of posters went up, although I hung onto Bruce and Eddie until it was literally falling apart. One I liked a lot was a cardboard cut out of ZZ Top’s Eliminator car, from a Monogram model kit I built. I always wanted to rig up a Walkman with a speaker in the door of that locker, but we figured if the racing cars got us in shit, music would even more.
Locker posters usually came from magazines such as Hit Parader, but it had to be a vertical poster. A horizontal one would only be good for home. A kid down the hall, Michael Wright, had a picture of a computer in his locker one year. I tended to stick to rock stars. Def Leppard went in there, and so did a rare picture of Vinnie Vincent in his Kiss makeup.
I tried to take care of my posters so I could use them again. They seemed like a big part of my identity. I brought my posters to school on the first day every year, so my locker would never be bare. Nobody but Bob seemed to get that. I always enjoyed carefully packing them up on the last day of school before summer holidays. Except for the last year of highschool, when I knew it was the very last time. There would be no more lockers. The very last locker posters were coming down, for good. I hated the feeling, the finality of it. Knowing life was about to change and almost all my old friends would be gone doing their own things. It was a…lonely feeling. The lockers were always a communal place. You’d chat with friends before or between classes. Life really felt different afterwards.
Somewhere in this house in an old video tape, of my grade 13 year circa 1990. Bob and I rented a camera one weekend, went into the unlocked school and did a tour. On that video is a detailed look at my locker posters of 1990-1991. One day I’m going to have to get a USB VCR and take a look.
LeBrain’s Top Lists for 2017
2017 was, from almost every angle, a shit year. Another onslaught of losses in music, entertainment and sports (another list on its own). 2017 was as devastating as 2016, but perhaps all that loss was turned into musical dividends. Before the year was even half over, I had already found my #1 album of 2017 from a surprising corner. I knew as soon as I heard it that it was something remarkable. I pencilled it into the #1, wondering who would topple it. Over the months, no-one did. Though my annual Top Five Albums list was not finalised until last week, the #1 album never changed.
Before we get to albums, however, let’s check out some winners in other categories!
BEST BOX SET
I put my reputation on the line when I recommended The Party to everyone I knew. I only got good reviews in return. For the record, it was our own Uncle Meat, back in July, who broke the news of this box set. He knows someone involved with the remastering and was aware of the project well before the public was. Though the packaging was bare bones, the reissue otherwise hits all the bases.
DEF LEPPARD – Hysteria 30th anniversary edition
What was probably my #1 album for Christmas 1987 is my favourite reissue in 2017. In a year featuring fantastic reissues by Marillion (Misplaced Childhood) and Whitesnake (1987), none brought me back in time like Leppard’s Hysteria did.
TOP FIVE ALBUMS OF 2017
In case you doubt, check out Deke’s list over at “Arena Rock”. One of my favourite rock scribes agrees with me on most of these releases. ‘Twas Deke who turned me onto the #5 album — thanks bud.
Normally I exclude live albums from my lists, but this has been a special year.
I haven’t cared so much about Styx since I was 10 years old! What an incredible album The Mission is. And I’m counting it as CanCon, because of singer/pianist Lawrence Gowan (but you can call him Larry).
Other fun categories!
BEST NEW ARTIST – Greta Van Fleet
BEST SOUNDTRACK – John Williams, Star Wars: The Last Jedi
BEST SOCIAL MEDIA – Michael Sweet (Stryper)
BEST ARTWORK – Deep Purple, for InFinite
MOST IMPROVED BEHAVIOUR – W. Axl Rose (Guns N’ Roses)
BEST COMEBACK – Quiet Riot, for Road Rage
BEST GUITARIST – Tom Morello (Prophets of Rage)
BIGGEST DOUCHEBAG – Gene Simmons (KISS)
SECOND BIGGEST DOUCHEBAG – Kid Rock
BIGGEST MISTAKE – Black Sabbath and Bill Ward not playing together at all before The End, a wasted opportunity to set things right.
Not many bands can get away with releasing so many live albums so late in their career. Iron Maiden can. They can for three main reasons:
1: They still kick enormous amounts of ass.
2: Their setlist changes tour after tour and there will always be songs you won’t get to hear again.
3: See #1.
It doesn’t hurt that their new albums are as acclaimed as their old. Ever since Maiden’s 1999 reunion with Bruce Dickinson and Adrian Smith, we have been treated to an abnormally solid stream of brilliant records. Deal with the devil, perhaps? Faustian bargain #666?
The atmospheric and shadowy intro to “If Eternity Should Fail” is a perfect way to begin an Iron Maiden concert. This track is magnificent. It also serves as a dramatic way to open what is sure to be the greatest live experience on Earth. “Scream for me, Sydney!” yells Bruce to rile up the crowd. Yes, The Book of Souls: Live Chapter is taken from a number of different shows, which is a format Maiden have succeeded with before.
Another thing Maiden do successfully is top-load their live set with new songs. The first two songs here are the same two as The Book of Souls itself. Single “Speed of Light” really kicks up the excitement level. To go from the epic drama of the opener to the taut single immediately causes an energy surge. From there, we travel back to 1981 with “Wrathchild”. It’s like a time machine to the London stages that young Maiden once trod upon. Bruce’s scream is unholy.
Jump cut to Canada and “Children of the Damned”. Bruce speaks French for the raving Montreal crowd, a nice touch of respect for the province of Quebec. Maiden never sagged in popularity there. In Quebec, Maiden’s 1995 album The X Factor (with lead singer Blaze Bayley) went Top 10. Back to new material, “Death or Glory” is another energetic shorty. The triple guitar solo slays. Then it goes to epic, “The Red and the Black”, 13 minutes and the longest track on the album. Riff overload! Unabated, we launch into “The Trooper” and “Powerslave”, both old classics that remain as amped up as they were in the 80s. It is pure joy to listen. (Only qualm: backing vocals on “Powerslave” sound like tape.)
A pair of top-notch new songs, “The Great Unknown” and “The Book of Souls” kick off the second CD. These are not short tracks. In a way this is the “meat” of the set. It is a run of 17 combined minutes of epic Maiden, and it’s a lot to swallow. Savour every bite; this is prime stuff. And will they ever be played live again? Who can say?
You know the show is drawing to a close when you hear the opening chords to “Fear of the Dark”. This favourite has been in the set since 1992. It’s the crowd’s chance to really sing along and be a part of it. More favourites follow: “Iron Maiden” and “The Number of the Beast”. (Absent is “Run to the Hills” which is on plenty of other live Maiden albums of recent vintage.) “Blood Brothers” from the reunion album Brave New World seems oddly placed in the second-to-last slot. The crowd at Download festival are thrilled to sing along. On CD, you can hear Steve on backing vocals clearly, and appreciate how he and Bruce complement each other. Then finally, it’s a terrific “Wasted Years” from underdog favourite Somewhere in Time.
The mix here is just dandy. There are variances in sound from track to track and city to city, but these are minor and only natural. You can clearly pick apart the instruments in the stereo field, and it’s pure delight to do so. Once again, Iron Maiden have released a quality product. You cannot go wrong by investing in any version of The Book of Souls: Live Chapter.