A Veiled Apology To A Record Store Area Manager
Serial confessions smeared across these online nooks and crannies with all the grace and restraint of the ‘November Rain’ video; as I may have mentioned before, I spent the musical hinterland between education and the ennui propagation of grown-up vocation in record stores.
Not so much browsing the vinyl racks for treasure; that’s been a constant since small trousers. Rather, this was a way of enduring those few years of post-university fallow behind the counter instead of queuing up at one.
Unless you’re interested in droll tales involving The Verve’s Richard Ashcroft, this isn’t necessarily a riveting or even particularly relevant reminiscence (he stood bemused with his handful of blues CDs whilst his paramour Kate Radley – ex-Spiritualized and former J Spaceman girlfriend – acted all snooty because LGM wasn’t operating at the requisite level of deference, or something).
Those years did however reinforce my view that, should your uncontrollable predilection be for all things music-related, then you really should invest a couple of years working in a record store (if you haven’t already, that is). If nothing else for the playlist possibilities available should you accidentally host a couple of all-night parties in said record store before zombie-sytle reopenings in the morning.
Call it a rite of passage. Or a wilful misuse of corporate resources, what with hiring out the venue to yourself, then sending the part-timer to the liquor store whilst you cue up seven hours of sound.
Below the words: something else that popped up on Twitter tonight. Too young to have been an aspect of LGM record store adventures or insincere admissions on the off chance that an old boss may be reading – but if this had of been released in 1996 or thereabouts, it would have been blasting out loud and proud long into the High Street small hours.
Chris T-T / (We Are) The King Of England