Too Much Sweating and Squatting to Really Focus on the Ninety-Nine Cent Boxes

The digital switch has been kind to those shoppers who require a physical copy.

People rip their discs. And with their new format. Soon sell the discs as obsolete.

I reap the benefits.

I frequent the same stores. Revisit the same used sections. Familiarity is bred.

Recognizing when a collection has been sold off is inevitable.

Multiple albums by the same band.

Multiple bands of the same genre.

Especially prevalent in an unsorted bargain bin.

Prior to the digital era. Such sell-offs would be common among those jumping scene to scene.

I speak from experience. Stacks of straight edge hardcore. My stacks. Oliver's Records. Syracuse, New York.

In the current environment. Everyone is selling off. Selling off everything. Abandonment of format.

Sell your Simple Machines. Your Dischord. Your New Age. Your Initial. Your Teen Beat. Your Sub Pop. Your K. Your Kill Rock Stars. Your Jade Tree. Your Victory. Your Equal Vision. Your Revelation.

(Your Pet Shop Boys. Your Erasure.)

Sell. Sell. Sell. For my gain.

Swirlies - Cats of the Wild: Volume Two. AKA Music. Bargain bin.

Long-Time Curiosity Satisfied for Three Dollars

It's not a vanity project.

By not being a vanity project.

It becomes one.

Tin Machine. AKA Music. Bargain bin.

Never Read It

She took a lot of criticism for her role.

The movie had problems. The least of which was her acting.

I was able to overlook her contribution.

Primarily because I thought she was hot.

I find myself enamored with her films. Stylish. As art. The soundtracks. Flawless.

I am able to overlook any problems. Of her directorial contributions.

Primarily because I still think she is hot.

The Virgin Suicides. Cathy compact disc.

Having Sex Doesn't Make You a Slut (Got it Jordin Sparks?)

Sean wanted to put out a Cap'n Jazz discography.

He would discuss it. I don't think it ever went past that. The discussion phase. In the dorm room. In the dining hall.

None of the principal players were ever contacted. Most importantly. The members of the band.

My exposure to Cap'n Jazz was limited.

What little I knew. Post-mortem.

It sounded like a great idea. Capitalize on the popularity of The Promise Ring.

The timing was perfect. Although I doubt money was his motivation.

I don't know what ever happened to Sean's plans. I don't even know what happened to Sean.

A year or two later. His dream was dead. Jade Tree had made the discography a reality.

The Promise Ring - Nothing Feels Good. AKA Music. Bargain bin.

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Crud Is a Cult - Triple Corpse Horror.

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Reader Request from Abroad

I'm curious about my international readers.

China. South Africa. Russia. Malaysia. New Zealand.

Some examples.

Curious as to where you found this.

If you enjoy the content.

If you have any requests.

Shades Apart - Neon. Digital download via Livewire.

[Image via watersecretsblog.com]

Who Else Is Going?

Shudder to Think are playing the TLA next Friday.

Friday, October 3rd.

I think I am going to go.

It would be my first time seeing them live.

Dave was my go-to guy for Live Nation events.

Then he decided to switch jobs on me.

Advance tickets are always a possibility.

I think I'll be okay purchasing the day of.

Reunions continue unabated.

Shudder to Think - Get Your Goat. AKA Music. Bargain bin.

I Was a Teenage Riot Grrrl

She compared it to Exile on Main St. in an interview. Part of a larger review of the record.

The way Slip was my back door to straight edge hardcore. Exile in Guyville was my back door to the riot grrrl scene.

I began making purchases. Bratmobile. Team Dresch. Bikini Kill. Huggy Bear.

None had the staying power of hardcore. Including Liz Phair.

The politics and message. Were in tune with some of my own. However. My purchases were becoming increasingly Ebullition. Less Kill Rock Stars.

The discs were bought. Then sold. A purchasing pattern that has only recently come to an end.

Liz Phair - Exile in Guyville. AKA Music. Bargain bin.

I'd Buy the New Jason Mraz if It Featured Shaun Ryder

In 1995 it was not an impossible task.

Locate every album or single that featured a member of the Wu-Tang Clan.

This was in addition to the full lengths. The solo releases.

A Mariah remix. A Busta Rhymes remix. Multiple Gravediggaz releases. Soundtracks.

This expanded to Wu-Tang affiliated acts. Sunz of Man. Shyheim.

My Wu-Tang obsession was brief. My obsession with finding albums, singles or songs featuring my favorite artists was not.

Bobby Gillespie. Kevin Shields. The Gallaghers. Sumner/Hook/Gilbert/Morris. Shaun Ryder. Albarn/Rowntree/James/Coxon. Ian Brown. Gruf Rhys. Tennant/Lowe.

Russell Watson and Shaun Ryder - Barcelona (Friends Until the End). AKA Music. New. On sale.

Revisit, It Holds Up

Bobb was convinced they listened to hardcore.

The album opened. It sounded like Break Down the Walls.

It was hard to disagree with his assessment.

It felt like a year of demos and online leaks.

When the album finally came out. After so many plays. So much hype. We were hearing what we wanted to hear. Or hearing things.

Arctic Monkeys - Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not. Amazon. New.

I Selected Every Song at Sugar Mom's, I Waited, Never to be Played

I saw a video clip on Beavis and Butthead.

I decided to buy the album.

With research. It lead me to Revelation Records. As a scene. More than just a label.

The purchase. An indirect influence on my becoming "straight edge."

The first release to really separate hardcore from punk rock. A whole other world. Subset. Genre.

It isn't even a hardcore record.

Quicksand - Slip. ???

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Orange 9mm - Driver Not Included.

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Initially I Thought Walter Schreifels Was in the Band

Embarrassing admission: Prior to a few years ago. I had never heard Token Entry.

It was not for lack of trying.

Their t-shirts were everywhere. On people. In photographs. In the back of Thrasher. That was my introduction.

As a teenager. I associated them with Gorilla Biscuits. Without actually hearing them.

This association (real or imagined) was enough to make me want to listen to them.

Though wanting to listen did not mean it actually happened.

I felt they were not accessible. I never saw the records. Assuming they were out of print.

I never saw a compact disc. Not at a show. Not through a distro. Not at a store. Since it was the mid-nineties I'm sure there was a Lost and Found version out there.

It was before Amazon. Before eBay. Before digital files. None of my friends owned anything. Listening to Token Entry was not going to happen.

As I got older my interests moved in and out of hardcore. Token Entry was pushed to the back of my mind.

I wasn't actively looking. But was the digital age that finally delivered. I downloaded the albums.

Realizing rather quickly. I had heard Token Entry. As interpreted by Kid Dynamite.

Token Entry - The Re-Issues. Princeton Record Exchange. Bargain punk.

Deeper Discounts Please

At a point in high school I owned a number of Touch and Go releases.

The majority of them being The Jesus Lizard.

With time. My tastes became more hardcore. The Jesus Lizard was out.

I had difficulty reconciling different genres of music. It was high school. It wouldn't be my only immature and irrational decision.

I found Arcwelder. New. And on deep discount.

The time had come for my Touch and Go return.

Arcwelder - Pull. AKA Music. New. On sale.

The One Hit Wonder Moniker They've Been Saddled With Diminishes Their Body of Work

It was a weird "era" in British music.

A little bit post-Mondays. A little bit pre-Britpop.

Jesus Jones. Stereo MCs. EMF. Soup Dragons. Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine.

Some may fall under the Grebo umbrella. Technically speaking.

Genres rarely deal with technicalities.

A weird era. An underappreciated era. Upon revisiting.

Jesus Jones - Perverse. Rehoboth Beach, DE. Random bargain bin.

Seeing Their Picture Brought Back Some Memories

As a balding gentleman I have been jealous of the styles and the cuts of many of my favorite bands and artists over the years.

This likely started with Boy George. Rather than Michael Jackson. Although wanting to emulate either is equally embarrassing.

My mother gave me a pretty long leash when it came to my hair. She recognized that I would be bald soon enough. And always took the time to remind me.

We would page through Thrasher and Transworld. She would approve or disapprove of select styles. A long leash did not make for a free for all.

In retrospect. I am thankful.

Thankful for having the foresight to say no to the great dreadlocks debate of early high school.

(Christian had recommended egg whites, honey and/or soap.)

Thankful for never giving the green light to strip the color from my hair.

Thankful for denying me Mohawks. After repeated requests.

She would take me to the salon. Pages ripped from the magazines. Stuffed into her Coach handbag. Clutched in her hands.

Confounding the young stylists at Regis. Then the stylists at her salon.

Some of my requests were more spectacle than style.

Into high school I let it grow free. Free and out. Free and up. Unkempt.

Into my late teens and early twenties. It began to leave of its own accord.

For good.

Carter the Unstoppable Sex Machine - Let's Get Tattoos. Rehoboth Beach, DE. Random bargain bin.

There Was this One Digipak I've Yet to Track Down

It was only recently I picked up a release.

And by recently I mean since 2000.

I was certain I would like them. Before actually hearing them.

I was always drawn to their album art. At least the art of the later releases.

In my head I associated them with My Bloody Valentine. For no real reason.

Again. This was prior to actually hearing them.

I would always have singles or full-lengths in my hand. Rainbow Records. The Newtown Book and Record Exchange. The Princeton Record Exchange. Spinster Records. Tower Records.

Only to be put back.

Like a lot of overseas acts. Their discs were expensive. Even non-imports. Especially as a student. High school or university.

For years I had trouble finding them used.

eBay. Changed all of that.

Cocteau Twins - Heaven or Las Vegas. AKA Music. Used.

Selling Promos as New

Hatful of Hollow. The first album I bought by The Smiths.

Positively Records. Levittown.

This was long after I had been buying things from New Order. The Cure. Depeche Mode.

It wasn't that I didn't know The Smiths. It wasn't that I didn't listen to them.

The actual act of purchasing an album. It happened to come later than most.

Before that time. Dubbed tapes. Mixtapes. Nothing original.

Once I started buying. I didn't stop. I still haven't stopped.

However. Hatful of Hollow. Lost. Somewhere. Yet to be replaced.

The Smiths - The John Peel Sessions. ???

Guy Fieri Left the Band to Pursue a Career at Fridays

It took a look through the liner notes to convince myself.

Yes.

This was in fact. The same band.

The "thank you" to Jordan Cooper. Confirmed.

A major label release. I didn't know it existed.

This was the first time I had come across it.

It should come as no surprise. The album was not the runaway success the label had hoped for.

There was more than one. Gathering dust in the bargain boxes. Below the bargain bin.

The album art. Bad or sad. Either provides an adequate description.

The back of the case. The photograph of the band.

It looks like an open audition for Diners, Drive-Ins and Dives.

The whole thing was a little disappointing.

While they may not have been a favorite of mine. This was not the band that I remembered.

Shades Apart - Sonic Boom. AKA Music. Bargain bin.

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Seaweed - Bill.

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Potpourri

The Mandela Strikeforce.

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Social Distortion.

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Limited in Regards to French Music

I don't know if it ever left. Or if I started paying attention again.

French dance music. Electronica. Has had a resurgence over the past few years.

Similar to its rise a decade ago.

Daft Punk. A major player. Then. Now.

While I am nostalgic for those of the past. More excited for the current crop.

Its influence seeping. Creeping.

Madonna. The world is ready for Music II.

AIR - Premiers Symptomes. ???

Prepare to Be Frenched

I enjoy taking requests. Family. Friends. Strangers.

Even if it means satisfying the needs of a Francophile.

(He isn't really.)

I receive a number of repost requests.

I receive some outright requests. Fewer and farther between.

If there is something you are looking for. That I may have. Do not hesitate to contact me at hedancesfornickels@gmail.com.

AIR - 10,000 Hz Legend. From Rajeev. Digital files.

My Mom Thought Typing Was a Better Option

Ninth grade. Drafting. Selected as our major.

A perfect storm of personalities. A new teacher.

No chance of control.

Ian. Brian. Michael A. Peter. Rob. Dustin. Dave. Ryan. Jeff in a Morrissey t-shirt.

Few girls. Three. Kristen. Samantha. Kate talking Check Your Head.

Parent teacher conferences were inevitable. And they happened.

More than one in my case. Always embarrassing for my mother. She worked in the district.

I had many seats. Moved around. Not by choice. Eventually I sat with Rick. We had played soccer together. Various teams. In-house. Travel.

Others were moved. The games didn't stop. Throwing tennis balls around. Moving desks outside.

The classroom. Located near the shop classes. Contributing to our sense of freedom. Freedom from standard in-class behavior. Freedom from honors.

There was work. There was learning. Little of it committed to memory.

Brian developed his writing style.

The class constructed foamcore houses. In the real world. Mine would not have been structurally sound. The foamcore did not collapse under its own weight. Like a single family residence would have.

With the family inside.

We were at our worst in middle school. Junior high.

If I could go back. Find a lot of those teachers. Apologize. I would.

Morrissey - November Spawned a Monster. AKA Music. Bargain bin.

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Both Worlds - Memory Rendered Visible.

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It Was Likely a Conversation with Adam, Alphabetically Speaking

It might have come up in homeroom.

The singer of Unrest was the original singer of Velocity Girl.

I had one Unrest track. On The Machines compilation.

Armed with this knowledge I went on a hunt for Unrest. Additional Unrest.

Not difficult to find. 4AD releases. That was like musical gold for the era.

Accessible indie.

Especially when women were involved.

Almost always a safe purchase. Pixies. Lush. Belly. Cocteau Twins. Throwing Muses.

I'm sure there are disappointments.

Frank Black.

More often than not. I've avoided those misfortunes.

Unrest - Isabel Bishop. AKA Music. Used.

Go Buy It

Cold World - Dedicated to Babies Who Came Feet First. Deathwish Inc. Estore. New.

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Antarctica - 23:03.

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Part Two in a Series

How did one become a cover star?

Some. Not particularly glamorous.

Most. If not all. Unfamiliar.

Due to my age. More likely my location.

With the solo career. He became the cover star.

The way he always wanted it to be.

That's how I imagine it.

Putting himself out there. On there. On the albums. The singles.

The Smiths - Ask. Schine Student Center. New.

I Wish I Had a Pencil Thin Mustache

It's incredible when bands have careers. That span twenty. Thirty years.

Careers that don't become caricatures of themselves.

Deceased members. Estranged members.

This is probably easier. If your band never reached superstardom.

Instead. Operating with a cult-like. Yet influential success.

Sparks - Hello Young Lovers. AKA Music. Bargain bin.

No Chance of Owning It All

Colin pointed out the extent of their discographies.

Morrissey has had a long solo career. It makes sense.

The Smiths on the other hand. Had a relatively short career.

But they've been milked for all they are worth. Continue to be milked.

(Ahem, Joy Division.)

Each of us thought we had pretty nice collections for both Morrissey and The Smiths.

Not even close.

The first step to rectifying this. Filling the gaps in our collections.

Compare. Contrast.

Morrissey - Beethoven Was Deaf. ???

[Image via www.impawards.com]

Collecting Compact Discs Like Vinyl but Without the Appreciation in Value

With the exception of vinyl only releases. Tape only releases. Certain rarities.

I consider digital music files to be placeholders.

Filling in until I can track down the compact disc. Stumble upon the compact disc in many cases.

I will then delete the files.

Replacing it with a rip. Direct from disc.

Preferring to own a physical copy. In tandem with the digital files.

A dying notion. Old-fashioned.

Shift - Pathos. From Andrew. Burned disc.

[Image via thamaddoktor.com]

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Hatfield and the North.

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Sticky Buttons and a Slow Hinge

At the end of my shift I packed my bag. Placing an extra Rock Star inside.

Something to drink in the morning.

The problem could have started then and there. Or anytime between then and there and midnight.

Arriving home. Dropping the bag on my bed.

I went upstairs to eat. Go about my business. My business is television.

Time to sleep.

Moving my bag. I notice dampness. I notice wetness. I notice a full-on soaking.

Opening my bag. A Rock Star calamity. Bills. Paperwork. Compact disc maxi-single. All are wet. All have taken on a yellowish hue. Familiar among the energy drinking public.

My phone. My iPod. Not present. My Discman was.

Yes. I continue to use a Discman. My no frills, yet sensible Focus. Tape deck only.

Drying the Discman. It appeared to be over. It wouldn't play. Into the trash.

Going to bed. Thinking it might not be so easy to find a new one.

Waking up. I remove it from the trash. No luck.

Back into the bag.

The next day. One last try.

Success. Tuesday. Driving again like it was 1994.

Morrissey - Now My Heart Is Full. AKA Music. Bargain bin.

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Up Front - Movement.

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Seven Years Can Feel So Long Ago and So Recent at the Same Time

The city was sealed off. Queens was out of the question.

Mobile phones were of little use. Spotty.

We ran into Laura. She lived downtown. There were few options. It seemed like the best.

Walking towards her apartment.

Hospital staff. Outside. Waiting for an influx that never came.

People eating lunch. Almost as if it wasn't happening.

Traders walking uptown. Covered in dust. A case of beer.

At Laura's. We watched television. The news. Non-stop news. Speculating. About that day. The days to come. Reaction. Response.

Little to no contact with our families.

The bridges. The tunnels. Reopened. The time had come for the long walk to Astoria.

She had borrowed Ágætis byrjun. I forgot to pick it up. That day.

Any other day. I might have remembered.

Sigur Rós - Með suð í eyrum við spilum endalaust. Target. New.

Downhill Since Mr. Joseph

Before Bamboo. Before The Piano Bar.

There was The Parkway.

Like all decent diners. It had a bar. One of my favorites.

It wasn't a great bar. It wasn't very nice. It didn't have a great selection.

It did have location. The end of the block.

Afternoon or evening. I would spend time there.

Bob would show up. Most days. Most nights. A local character.

Karaoke night. He'd be there. We'd be there. Moore was well represented.

Danzig. Oasis. James.

Bob encouraged fighting. On one occasion. He encouraged my brother.

He continues to wander the streets.

I continue to cross at corners. At lights. Jaywalking. Avoiding. Inevitable contact.

James - Laid. AKA Music. Bargain bin.

Enjoy Your Labor Day

Cathy asked me if she's nice.

I don't know.

We often speculate about famous people. Major fame. Minor fame. New fame. Old fame.

A list. B list. C list. D list.

"Do you think they are nice?" He. She. Them.

I say she isn't.

I say M.I.A. is worse though.

Santogold. Best Buy. New.