I decided to do something special for Part 250…by not doing Part 250 at all.
This isn’t one of those bullshit prequels, like when George Lucas says, “Oh, Episode I, I had that written for decades,” when it was pretty obvious he was making it up as he went along! Nope, this isn’t like that. I started writing the Record Store Tales over 10 years ago, and what you see below is the original first chapter. It existed solely for the purpose of background and context, but I excised it in favour of starting things faster with the second chapter, “Run To The Hills”. Since that became Part 1, it makes sense that this earlier introduction should be Part 0. With hindight, I kind of wished I’d kept it in, so here it is! And don’t forget to check out my new complete Table of Contents, should you wish to read more!
Yeah…don’t ask. That’s me on the right.
A Few Words for Days Gone By…
What is childhood made of? In my mind, when you’re a kid, life consists of two things:
1. School
2. Summer Holidays
That was the cycle. To break it down to the core, to an 11 year old life was 10 months of school followed by two months of glorious, warm sunny freedom. Sure, you’d get to go home at the end of the day, but you were never truly free until the end of June. No more pencils, no more books, all that stuff. It was way better than Christmas holidays. The Canadian winters offered such fun treats as shoveling, besides snow pants, parka, boots (laced up too tight), and mittens which prevented you from using your fingers.
Our summers were boisterous. My sister Kathryn and I were like peas in a pod. We would play some kind of game every day, usually under my leadership. I would declare that today, we were going to play Star Wars. Other possible declarations included building fleets of Lego ships and cars, and having a giant war. Or inventing a new ball game. Once GI Joe came along, we’d dig trenches in the yard, as well as forts and garages of twigs and leaves, and have an entire day (or week) dedicated to Cobra Commander’s new secret weapon. Aside from an occasional rebellion from my sister, our summers were mostly uninterrupted merriment.
My sister and I both clearly remember one such rebellion, where she wanted to do things her way. It involved our Star Wars figures. We were already mid-battle. I was setting up a perfect counter-offensive. The Millenium Falcon would sneak attack Vader’s base, take out his Tie Fighter early in the melee, while Luke would take out Boba Fett. Leia and Lando had to distract Jabba The Hutt, so that he couldn’t stop Luke when he eventually confronted the Emperor. Game over! The plan was perfect. Now I just needed my sister to coordinate the battle with me, under my command of course.
Much to my disappointment, she had moved around some of the figures and now had them seated. Luke and Vader were next to each other. “Why are Luke and Vader sitting there? Luke is about to attack and Vader should be getting into his ship.”
My sister continued playing with the figures, and without looking up, replied, “Luke and Vader want to be friends now. They’re having tea.”
It didn’t matter that half the figures were hers, if she didn’t know how to play Star Wars right. So I’d yell a bit, act like a big brother usually does, and eventually she’d go along with the plan, or cry and leave. The evil Empire would be defeated once and for all, thanks to my brilliant leadership and strategy. We were definitely pals, growing up.
For years, this was the way of the summer holidays. We’d be doing something awesome at home, or at the cottage, but it would always be something cool. It didn’t matter where we were: games continued wherever we went. We’d make a game out of anything. You give us a pile of junk and we’ll make a game out of it.
All things do come to an end. The Star Wars trilogy ended in 1983 and something needed to fill the vacuum. While GI Joe and later Transformers would temporarily take its place, I was getting older. My attention was drifting. I was looking for something cool, new, and exciting. Video games didn’t hold my attention and neither did sports.
Starting in 1983, several things happened in a short time frame. Styx released a single called “Mr. Roboto” that some of my friends at school were obsessed with. Then I heard a song called “Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap” by AC/DC, and it was pretty cool too. Then, a newer band called Quiet Riot came out with an album called Metal Health that would go on to sell three million copies. This was my first rock cassette purchase when I was in the 6th grade. Something connected…
AC/DC. Van Halen. Ozzy Osbourne. Black Sabbath. Def Leppard. Motley Crue. Iron Maiden. Who were these people? I had a lot to find out.
Continued in Record Store Tales Part 1: Run to the Hills
A lot of rock fans can get into more cutting edge music, things a bit more challenging. Many of us have ears already opened, by progressive rock giants such as Deep Purple, Dream Theater, and Frank Zappa. When some of the region’s best musicians from various genres gather together to improvise live with an audience, it’s gonna be interesting. The basic concept of When Styles Collide was to bring together players from different backgrounds, and see what happens. Although some songs are pre-written pieces, all of the performances contained music made up entirely on the spot at one point or another. Some are completely spontaneous.
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