Archive for September, 2014

Sunday Music 9/28/14

Original Golden Stars-Nobody’s Fault but Mine

I don’t know much about this song but I got it from a sampler of an upcoming box set The Soul of Designer Records (Big Legal Mess). Really good old rocking soul/gospel ala the early Staple Singers.

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I Hate Me, 438,911

 

Busy day, waiting to go out for coffee. This weird little middle aged guy in shorts and a half shirt came in with a small stack of records. For the most part they were beat to shit but he had a couple of decent ones. He was describing each one before he gave it to me, he handed me a Beach Boys-Greatest Hits
“Here’s one, the fuckin’ Beatles, this gottttta be worth a buck, right?
“That’s The Beach Boys, man and it’s pretty scratched up”
“No, man that’s the fuckin’ Beatles. It’s got some old weed in it and shit but it’s a good one…it’ll play.”
“Yeah, no. It’s way too scratchy and it ain’t the Beatles”
He gave me a palm up shrug, with a smirk (you win this battle)
“How about this one, fuckin’ Cheech and Chong- Big Bambu, you know this one right?”
“Yeah, but it’s only really worth anything if it has the giant rolling paper in it”
“No man, it don’t…I lent this to my ex…and she probably took it…you know how that shit goes…Oh, and it’s scratched up”
yeah, man you’re not really selling me on it.”
“really? ”
We settled on a price for the ones I wanted and I went out for coffee. I saw the guy as I was going into Starbucks, “Hey record dude, coffee. Yeah!”

...and it's scratched

…and it’s scratched

 

I Hate Me, part 497,451

 

We have an old tree on the side of the driveway, the branches hang over the car. I’m not sure what kind of tree it is, I refer to it as a Shitberry tree. Although I never see any birds on it whatever part of the car is parked under it is covered in industrial strength bird shit and pine(?) needles. I usually don’t notice how bad it is until I get where I’m going, then it’s windex, paper towels and a strong resolve. Unless I’m lazy, which is often, then I just look at it, droop my shoulders and shuffle off to whatever task I’m on. This latest task was Foodtown. I went in, got the few items I had to get and headed to the checkout. There was only two open, one was the normal and one was 20 items or less. There was a woman who was in the 20 items or less that had a huge amount of stuff, well over 20 items. All of it seemed to be fruits, vegetables or bulk food. So there were just little bags and little bags and little bags of items that all had to be identified and weighed. The regular checkout had a long line of people who seemed to be stocking up for the apocalypse. I stood there ruminating on the life choices that had brought me to this spot when an outraged little old lady, who looked like Nancy Reagan with an even bigger head pointed at the woman who had more than 20 items, and shrieked in a surprisingly loud voice “look at her! She can’t count!” to no one in particular. it looked like something that the aliens in Invasion of The Body Snatchers would do. The woman who was working the courtesy desk took pity on me and rang me up. She looked at what what was going on shook her head and said “Must be a full moon.”

"look at her! She can't count!"

“look at her! She can’t count!”

I Hate Me, part 446,186

It was a slow day at work until about fifteen minutes before Matt left for the day. It seemed like the bus from crazytown (not the band) made an unscheduled stop, which it often does. A woman was asking for a ton of different cd’s, most of it was late 90’s metal and soul. She was asking for them in half song titles and misheard lyrics but no band names. I would show her a section she was looking for and before I could turn around, she would be asking another question from a different part of the store. It had the vibe of one of those Japanese horror movies where there are people who crawl out of TV sets, swivel their heads and crawl on the wall. While this was going on another guy was asking if I was going to see Steely Dan at the Count Basie, I wasn’t. He wasn’t either but…”Yeah, I paid $50 to see Andrew Dice Clay there and it was great, he still got it…about 100 women walked out…yeah he still got it. He did new stuff but he didn’t do any nursery rhymes…so when he was done, I ran up front and yelled NURSERY RHYMES, MOTHERFUCKER! and he turned around, looked at me and he did all the nursery rhymes…yeah, he’s like Bob Dylan…nobody wants to hear your new shit, dude. They wanna hear the old stuff…the stuff that made you great.” The 90’s metal/soul woman was there for another hour but bought a few cd’s.

he's like Bob Dylan

he’s like Bob Dylan