More About Record Store Day

What's easy? Downloading music files from the internet to your pc. Either by stealing them or paying for them legitimately, at an online shop.

So what? Not everything has to be easy. Although that what is not I'm not too keen to undertake.

I do my share of downloading music. I don't wanna say how many albums I get a week. Let's just say that I don't know the titles of a lot of songs, or what some songs sound like from the titles, or what songs may be on what albums, or who is in what group. Mind, I know some of that stuff; I used to know it all, or at least all the stuff in my personal collection. But then I used to have a lot less than I do now. OK, if you insist I'll ballpark it and say I get 15 - 20 new albums a week. I know I know, it's crazy and cool.

A few weeks back a friend and I did something I don't do a lot of anymore, but I used to do all the time. We went to an actual record shop. The main reason it's become a very infrequent outing for me is there is no decent music stockist near me (read: one that does not also sell baby clothes and toothpaste). The second reason is that it's so easy to download. but the main reason for this particular trip was that one of my favorite shops was closing one of its two locations (the further in proximity but still a favorite nonetheless). Such is the nature of the biz nowadays.

A field trip to the record shop is a real experience. So many things are going on aaround you there. Music, whether bad or good, is always playing, that in itself could be an experience - "ugh, get that off!!" "what is that? where can I find it in the racks?" "who picked that?" "puh-leese!" See, it's like this blog! Plus, it's an exercise in what I like to call feng-shit. Typical record shop decor means posters, bumper stickers, album covers, all kindsa music related crap adorn every square inch of the walls. The ratio of stuff you don't care about to stuff you'd like to steal is about 5-1. Furniture usually means plywood bins made by the owner and his staff or some guy who did it for a stack of free CDs or a lifetime discount. You'll see people from all walks of life there - skater punks, hip-hop poseurs, pseudo-intellectuals in ill-fitting Woody Allen jackets, pierced punks from suburbia, and cool folk like me. I like to play "stump the clerk", even if I don't really want what I'm asking about. Here's a tip to winning this game: ask for "Lane Changer" by Michael Fennelly. No one ever has it, and they can't order it. Until recently another winner was "Boulders" by Roy Wood. It's been re-released, which is a very good thing, just not for stump the clerk. I'm usually amused by the selections people are picking out or carrying around. Even when I see someone with an armful of stuff that I myself would get, I have contempt for them. It's like self-loathing but without the guilt. And then there are people who ask for something really loud so everyone will hear how cool they perceive themselves to be. "Pardon me, where can I find THE THIRTEENTH FLOOR ELEVATORS JAPANESE BOX SETS?" (hint: there are none, so feel free to call them on that one)

Anyway, another fellow shopper was talking to someone about transferring vinyl to digital, and I butted in because as you may know I am undertaking that same task. I asked what equipment he had, etc. I don't remember his response because he started talking geekspeak & my mind started to wander. Then the subject of The Ramones came up, and albums that haven't been released on CD, and other semi-related stuff. Another guy said, "isn't this great? If we were shopping at Amazon-dot-com we wouldn't be having this conversation and exchanging ideas". And he is so right.

All of this downloading I'm doing, and most of the world is doing it, too, is killing the record shops. This is really a sad thing, because there is absolutely nothing that can compare to a Saturday trip to the record shop. I can still remember when I was a wee lad, my sister used to take me to the local spot. Once, and I remember this vividly, We were at a place called Bundy's in Hamtramck, and my treat was to get one single. Well, this black teenager* came in with a list, which I had never seen before (a kid with a record shopping list that is, not a black teen). The lady behind the counter was rifling through the box of singles on top of the counter, pulling out certain ones as she went down his list. All of a sudden I saw her pull out a single on the famous yellow Tamla label. It was Barrett Strong's "Money", which was brand-spankin' new. I exclaimed to my sister, "Money!!" That's the one I was going to ask for. She put it back in the box, the kid didn't notice, and she said "we don't have this one". He paid for his booty (I wish I knew what else he got) & left. Then, she turned to me & pulled "Money" back out of the box. It was mine!!

(*the reason I mention he was a black teen was because I thought it was cool that he got "punk'd" by a fat little 6 year old white pollock kid. it was the start of my career as a music fascist.)

I remember my first trip to the mall by myself. I bought "Tell Me" by The Rolling Stones & "The Girl From Ipanema" by Getz/Gilberto. I remember riding my bike to Ross Music, buying "My Generation" by The Who. When I came out, my bike was stolen. And I wasn't concerned; I just wanted to get home to my phonograph. The bike was returned the next day, by the kid and his mother. Talkin' 'Bout My G-G-G-Generation!

I'll spare you the details involved, but I actually vividly remember when I bought Sgt Pepper; Rubber Soul; God Save The Queen and the first Clash single, both on import; the first Ramones lp; my first purchase all by myself, "Fingertips" by Little Stevie Wonder. I could go on forever.

And that's why you need to participate in Record Store Day on April 19. No amount of downloading ease or web shopping could ever replace that kind of excitement, anticipation and incidental magic. It's truly a communal thing, something wonderful, even for someone like me who hates people. Just like it's better to see a band in person than on TV or YouTube. The proprietors of record shops really need everyone's support nowadays. Because they are dying out there. And I'm doing my part to kill them, but I don't want them to die. I will never turn down a trip to the record shop. And by the way, this trip I took a few weeks back resulted in $75 worth of stuff, and that was even after a 60% discount on everything, and none of it is stuff I've ever seen on the web. (my biggest haul was a trip to Chicago, where FIVE MINUTES in Tower records cost me $200. Even I was amazed, like I was working against time)

So no smartass cynicism, no sarcasm, no bullshit. Plan on doing what you know you have to do. recordstoreday.com will tell you who in your area is participating.

Cash (sacred) Cow Enlightenment

Hey, here's another must-have item!

Coming to you direct from in-the-know pundit of God, John Edward, a book - and it looks real thin - on prayer. Complete with a two-tone rosary!

The best part is Edward's initials embossed on the cover. Lest you forget who's going to make a buck or two mill on this thing.

No one needs any kind of info on prayer. Whether it be how to do it, or why to do it. You do it exactly how and when and why and where (and with whom - now we're complete) you want. No rules! Only I wouldn't do it while copulating, except maybe if you're thinking about the consequences, if you have no business being involved at the moment, that's one rule, probably.

See, I don't even know for sure, because it's rule-proof!

Prayer may be limited for some individuals, so you'd be well informed not to waste it, like don't say "I hope to God that asshole who just cut me off gets riddled with facial sores", because if God hears that & says "OK", maybe he won't hear you when you're saying "Please make my parachute open", because you had one answered prayer this month & you blew it on a bad driver's complexion.

Also, maybe don't make your prayer too generalized where it's just not doable. Like one prayer I have that never, ever, gets answered is when I say, "F$%k 'em all!!". That never happens! Because, like, babies are born every second, so is the cut off when you finish the statement, or just as you begin the prayer, or when you have the thought to pray for the f$%king, or when? And maybe you should say "only the ones 15 years old and up", or "just adult white bitches", or what? Food for thought, my friend.

So if this guy wants to pull your coat to prayer, why does he charge for it? I would think if you don't give a shit about praying or God or rosaries, then you'd say, "hey, I'm gonna make some money offa something I know about, which just happens to be religious-oriented ephemera!" and take the capitalist route. But if you really really care, deeply, down in your soul, then you just wanna spread the word, that's all, like I do here, for you. If some of you out there say, "well, a guy's gotta eat & pay rent", then maybe he should get a job and just tell people about prayer if and when they need that kind of data. Gratis.

Everyone wants to make a buck. Whether it's prayerbooks, garbage bowls or black market jeans (I'll deal with you later, P-Dog. No one I polled ever heard of an "Ipod pocket" just below the knee. Do you know how long the earbud cord has to be?). But I guess there's no way of knowing if there's a market for your bullshit unless you put it out there. Which is what John Edward did. And P-Dog. So it's up to you to shun the shills.

Or so help me God, you're gonna get it.

If you can, and you really should make an attempt, participate in Record Store Day. Go to this website for more details

http://www.recordstoreday.com/

It's your duty!

More to come...

No One Dead This Time; well...

Today I downloaded the new album by The Fall. I love The Fall. Not the season, the innovative post-everything group.

I've seen them once. It was a memorable show for a couple of reasons: One was that Fall mainman Mark E. Smith had fallen (ha) during this particular tour & was on crutches. So he did most of the show sitting at a table. And he used two microphones, one in each hand. Don't ask why, he just did. Just like he always messes with the controls on his guitarists' amps. It's just kooky, that's all. Oh, and he also sang the last song offstage, behind a curtain. It was a cover of The 4 Seasons' "Walk Like A Man"- I think, because like Dylan it's sometimes hard to tell with Mark E. Smith what a familiar song has morphed into. Anyway, the other reason the show was memorable (but I didn't know it at the time) is that it was the last show I saw with my friend Ed who died less than a year later. I was always dragging him to shows that were not exactly mainstream, but always interesting. Like this one, or The Datsuns, who were actually overshadowed by support The Black Keys and even more so by opening act Electric Eel Shock from Osaka, which could tell you a lot. They were extremely wild, that was the consensus.

Anyway, Ed was someone very special. He'd hook up the speakers to his stereo by putting BOTH positive or red or whatever it was from both speakers on one channel, and both black or negative or whatever to the other side. Crazy! He'd also say "nit! nit!" after taking a shot, like Jack Nicholson in Easy Rider. He also knew more card games than just about anyone I knew except my brother-in-law.

He was a big Sloan fan. He thought Love's "Forever Changes" was a "Spanish" album. And I know secrets about him that I'll take to my grave.

I dragged him to a midnight showing of The Clash movie "Rude Boy" at the old Punch & Judy Theater right after he finished an 8 hour shift at work. He was less than impressed, but then so was I. I could've had him listening to WFMU, I just know it. That was another thing - he always had his computer messed up, kinda like his wife does nowadays. Is it an homage?

There are only two men who aren't family that I've kissed - Ed was one of them, and the other one is dead, too. Maybe I have the kiss of death for men.

Actually, three. The third was an obnoxious gay guy who worked with my ex-wife. Everything he said was a reference to gay sex. He called me Alfred, because I reminded him of Alfred Hitchcock. So this was our first meeting, at a Christmas party, and he asked if I was homophobic. That's when I kissed him. He was an asshole so I don't count him unless it's to my advantage. Maybe he's also dead, who knows.

So while for a change I'm not reporting on newly dead people, The Fall made me think of a very special dead guy.

And by the way, the new Fall album is called "Imperial Wax Solvent", and it's great.

Dropping Like Flies!!

MORE DEAD PEOPLE!!!

JASON RAE : his wife is Corinne Bailey Rae, y'know the "Put Yer Records On" singer? Yeah, well, he died from a drug overdose. Asshole.

ISRAEL LOPEZ aka CACHAO : they say he helped invent the Mambo. How did he "help", did he say, "no no amigo, try bumping to the left, not forward!" Anyway, in today's scheme of things this poor cat won't be remembered, but what he did was a really big deal, everyone knows the mambo, maybe not how to do it, but they know of it.

NEIL ASPINALL : he was essentially The Beatles babysitter for a long while. He hung with them all the time and ended up head of Apple Corps. The Fabs had two main support cats (see photo), one was Mal Evans, the tall bespectacled lunkhead type who was murdered a few years back, and Neil was the suaver longhaired groovier guy. He had cancer, so no amount of grooviness can escape that savage killer.

Turn me on, dead man!

Four Dead Bodies Found

Last week Ola Brunkert, 62, was found dead in the garden of his home in Mallorca, with multiple cuts to the neck. He hit his head on a glass door, then he wrapped his neck in a towel but collapsed from blood loss before help arrived. He was the drummer for wildly popular Swedish pop quartet ABBA. Think of him the next time you hear "Dancin' Queen", "Chiquitita" or "Fernando". Or the next time you get cut by glass.

More blood: Anthony Minghella, 54, died from a hemorrhage March 18 after surgery on a neck growth. He won an Oscar for directing "The English Patient", and also directed "The Talented Mr Ripley" (the film not the actual person, because who knows if Robert Ripley was talented or not), "Truly, Madly, Deeply" and "Cold Mountain". In addition he directed "Madama Butterfly" for the English National Opera and wrote for TV. Plus if, during a heated moment you jumped up from your chair and shouted "you're just a goddamn pianist!" at him, that would not be a lie. Because he was indeed that, too.

If you're 90 years old and wrote a novel called "2001 - A Space Odyssey", your name is Arthur C. Clarke and you're dead. You've had post-polio syndrome for the last 20 years, the last seven of those years spent suffering as a member of the British Knighthood. When your father died you were 13, and you had to help your mother run the farm, oh you typical cliche. Put down that hoe, Dave, because HAL has opened the pod bay doors.

To The Man Called Joe Gibbs: check I-self, farward come ya dread at the controls! Mikey Dread, 54, toaster, dj, mc, Clash co-conspirator passed on March 15. As a radio broadcaster on the Jamaican Bradcasting Corporation in the 70s he hosted a show called "Dread At The Controls", a tag that stuck with him the rest of his life. He claims to be the one to break "Uptown Top Ranking" (see March 4 post re: Joe Gibbs). He became known worldwide after a promotional trip to the UK, and a subsequent hookup with The Clash. That resulted in him co-producing their 3 records set "Sandinista!", their single "Bankrobber" and a Clash world tour. In late 2007 he began treatment for a brain tumor. Such is life inna rub-a-dub stylee.

Heaven just got a whole lot more interesting.

Tastes Like Chicken

I've taken some time recently to consider things people either believe and/or tell me in hopes that I too will believe. Now it's time to set people straight. Here are a number of misconceptions that need to be addressed:

IT TAKES MORE ENERGY TO FROWN THAN TO SMILE. Whaddayou, nuts? Go out, anywhere, anytime, and just go about your day. That's right, pass people left and right, coming and going. Make an effort to smile at them. See how hard that is? Now for the next person you pass, just continue walking with your usual sneer on your face. Easy as pie. Nobody smiles. If it was easy, we'd be grinning like idiots all over the world and everybody else'd wonder what the hell we were up to.

A STITCH IN TIME SAVES NINE. Wrong. It doesn't even save "fore", because if you have to get stitches, you're gonna miss your tee time. There go nine holes.

IF YOU DON'T STOP THAT YOU'LL GO BLIND. Adult men have vision. 'Nuff said.

YOU SHOULD NOT ASK ABOUT SALARY AT A JOB INTERVIEW. Are you getting up early and putting on socks just for kicks? Is this job going to help cure something or change the world? Your future boss isn't stupid. Are you? Ask how much they're gonna pay you. Then laugh & walk out.

DON'T SPIT IN MY FACE AND TELL ME IT'S RAINING. No, go ahead. Try. I would, if I were you.

WOW, WHAT A GREAT SONG / MOVIE / ETC. Seriously. Do you really think your emphatic blathering is going to convince me? You never take my advice, and I'm gonna take yours? And I invest a lot of time & effort to come informed on this shit. You truly like the 80's & Adam Sandler movies. Get away from me.

ACTIONS SPEAK LOUDER THAN WORDS. Wave your arms wildly in someone's ear. Unless you lose your balance & accidentally slug them, this is an urban myth.

IF GUNS ARE OUTLAWED ONLY OUTLAWS WILL HAVE GUNS. Are all pot smokers dope fiends? I said ALL. Well then, how about drinkers? Geez, c'mon!

CHEATERS NEVER WIN. What world do you live in?

NEVER SHIT WHERE YOU EAT. What if you're bedridden? What if you eat shit? What if you live in toiletville? Never say never.

I CALL SHOTGUN. I got shotgun. (this one doesn't really fit. I just thought it was funny, at the time)

HE WHO DIES WITH THE MOST TOYS WINS. No, what happens is your family is left with a lotta crap they have to do something with. He who dies with the most toys is held in contempt by his survivors.

I guess that's enough for now. Be sure you keep it real. As if anyone'd know.