Devolver
This week I did something I haven't done since 1986: I lined up to buy a record on the day of its release. The last was Boston's "Third Stage," and I stood in line behind a guy buying 10 copies. Tuesday it was "Middle Cyclone" by Neko Case.
I didn't actually "line up" to buy it. There are no record stores in my neighborhood, so to buy an actual physical CD you have to visit Best Buy. They don't usually have what I'm looking for (unless I'm looking for what KDWB played 10 minutes ago, which I'm usually not), but I was pretty sure they've have "Middle Cyclone" given all the pre-release hype. (An item on NPR counts as hype, right?)
In the entryway was a whiteboard on which was written, "NEW RELEASES 3/3: NEKO CASE." From the New Releases rack I could see laptops and vacuum cleaners. Around 30 titles were on display, but no Neko Case. A blue-shirted clerkbot asked me if was finding everything okay.
"I'm looking for the new Neko Case," I said.
"Huh...?" I could tell he was wondering what kind of case you put a neko in.
"The new Neko Case CD. It comes out today."
He said, "That's probably in New Releases."
"Yeah, I looked there. I didn't see it."
"Uhhh..."
"Tell you what. I'll go look under 'Neko Case.'"
"Okay," he said with obvious relief.
The woman checking out in front of me was buying $400 worth of Nintendo junk. Her credit card was refused. I quickly moved to the next line, where the two young men in front of me were also buying video games. One also had "Marvin Gaye's Greatest Hits," incongruously, I thought, given his age and appearance. I wanted to chat him up, like you do in a real record store: "I've got that album. It's great. Did you see there's a new remastered version of 'What's Going On'?" I didn't.
My CD had a bright yellow sticker on it: SALE $9.99. "Eight fifty-three," said the cashier. He asked if I had a rewards card but didn't ask if I'd heard "Blacklisted" or if I was into Freakwater. At Great American Music, where I bought that Boston album, the girl at the counter used to give me leftover promotional copies of albums she thought I'd like. I asked her out, and we dated for a while.
People lament the sense of "community" that's lost when sales of things like music move online. I don't know. When I'm in Best Buy I feel lonely and alienated. So I mostly buy from quirky websites where others post reviews and comments about the music. It's not the Electric Fetus. It doesn't smell like pot and incense. But no one's trying to sell me a washing machine, either.
Please let me know if you will or will not be playing hoops at St. John's this Saturday. We tip off at 8:00 a.m., as usual.
posted by SPY at 10:32 AM
3 Comments:
"It's not the Electric Fetus. It doesn't smell like pot and incense."
Oh, so you'd recognize that smell, huh? Yes, I'd always suspected that Steve is not entirely the buttoned-down Boy Scout that he appears. This is certainly one of the more trippy, stream-of-consciousness postings we've seen on the St. John's Hoops blog.
11:14 AM
Steve, you buried the lead! You forget to tell your readers that the new Niko Case album features a cool 1967 Mercury Cougar on the cover!
BTW, if you'd made the drive to Cheapo on Snelling, you would have seen Niko Case prominently displayed on an end cap at the front of the store. And not a washing machine or laptop in sight.
4:05 PM
First off this essay should be titled "Why I'm a dumb shit and didn't buy my music at the Electric Fetus." There is no excuse. You feel lonely and stupid because you have no friends and you are stupid. Start improving your life this weekend (or sooner) by going to the Fetus and buying $100 worth of good Karma music. You need it.
Second, was that girl from the record store hot? Can you provide some details of your relationship? Was it stormy? Sappy? I have to know.
10:51 PM
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