For last year's weepy chapter, click here.
There was an album I was quite fond of during my freshman year of college called Maximum Security by Alien Sex Fiend. In all honestly, it wasn't their finest effort (that would be Acid Bath, which I talked about here), but having been so enthused by that afore-cited album that preceded it, I snatched up a copy of Maximum Security with all speed upon its release in 1985 and proceeded to play it to death, much to the pronounced disdain of my then-roommate. While this was the mid-80's, a.k.a. the golden age of "college rock" (an umbrella term that encompassed everything from punk to hardcore to new wave to post-punk to new wave to power-pop to gothic rock and all things in between), the lion's share of the student body at my particular college -- Denison University in Granville, Ohio -- was still steeped in an illogical obsession with rote, yawnsome crap like The Allman Brothers, Eric Clapton, Van Morrison, Bob Marley, the Grateful Dead and virtually all things Woodstock-affiliated. Suffice to say, as an easily-riled punk rock fan with many an unsolicited opinion to share about the entirely subjective appreciation of music, this did not go over at all well with me. With precious few exceptions, the stuff I held dear was still considered fairly freakish. In the early weeks of my fresman year, there was a guy named Rod who lived in my dorm that practically stopped talking to me after he saw that I was wearing a Stranglers t-shirt. Ironically, by 1985, the Stranglers had become pretty damn tame in the grand scheme of things, but that's another matter.
In any case, hidden within the ransom-note-styled collage of artwork on the original gatefold sleeve of ASF's Maximum Security, I discovered a bold proposition that became my battle cry; "Fuck the Sixties, Let's Bring Back The Eighties!" As I was a sort of self-appointed champion of the bold, new music of the era, this profane declaration completely appealed to my churlishly juvenile "us vs. them" mentality. "What're ya doing listening to that old, boring bullshit?" I invariably asked classmates at the time, "You need to forget that hippie crap and start listening to this stuff!" and I'd clobber them over the head with the latest slab of vinyl by the Screaming Blue Messiahs or Die Kreuzen or We've Got a Fuzzbox And We're Going to Use It or Code of Honor or The Lime Spiders or T.S.O.L. or The March Violets or Saccharine Trust or The Three O' Clock or Gaye Bykers on Acid or _________ (fill in your favorite 80's also-ran here), etc. etc. etc. "Fuck the Sixties, LET'S BRING BACK THE EIGHTIES!!!" Blah blah blah.
Well, twenty-five (!!!!) years late, guess who's a big fuckin' hypocrite? I'm now in my forties and while I do try to keep up with a lot of the new stuff, most of my favorite music still dates back to the late 70's, 80's and 90's. In fact, a lot of the music I listen to today is now as old (and, in some cases, even older) than the music I chastised my classmates for listening to was then (if that makes any sense). But y'know, sue me.
So, today being Record Store Day, I dutifully took some time this afternoon and hit a few of my few remaining local shops (you can find a sadly no-longer-comprehensive list of since-closed NYC record shops here). I strolled into the East Village and went to the new-ish Kim's on 1st Avenue, wherein I picked up the re-mastered editions of Devo's sophomore album, Duty Now for the Future (originally from 1979) and Nick Cave & the Bad Seeds' Tender Prey (originally from 1988). I also picked up the new White Stripes live album, Under The Great Northern Lights, but I don't really think that makes me especially cutting edge.
Anyway, if an aging, cranky old hypocritical fart can get out there and support his local record stores, SO CAN YOU! Get going!
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