A Weekend Mix & A Friday Rant

I am well aware of the fact that my little complaints about everything from lousy weather to delayed flights to hipsters, the Grammy Awards and back, are nothing in comparison to real problems and issues that so many struggle with on a daily basis.

That being said...

My cousin and I went on a record buying excursion, by appointment, to the very south of New Jersey, in a place known as Toms River. It was a place that promised riches and gold and music and lollipops and wax lips and most of all, "over 40,000 records, all in great shape." I was skeptical. So was my cousin, but he stayed positive. Someone had to and that someone was not going to be me.

The owner of said records greeted us at the door and within two minutes of entering his home, tried selling us Lionel Trains, a used Hewlett-Packard printer and an autographed Kiss mirror which he was "asking two million dollars for, but not really, but you know what I mean, like I want close to that." He asked if we wanted to see "a really cool jukebox." I choked out a "sure." But then, he couldn't find the picture on his computer. But we did get to see pictures of his daughter playing piano, a dinner party given by his wife, and an old record player he was about to put on eBay for "$45,000. We'll see. Someone will want it."

He finally took us to the basement, which resembled the last scene in "Raiders Of The Lost Ark." There they were. 40,000 records. Boxes, floor to ceiling, wall to wall. Loose records. Records all over the place. Records!!

I was skeptical.

I asked about cost. Three times!

Here were the promises made:

"You will leave here with what you want."
"You are friends of a friend, so you can cherry-pick."
"We wll both make money."
"I am not a museum."
"Don't worry, have fun."

I was skeptical.

Twenty minutes later, after rummaging through 5 boxes and finding about 30 records. I stepped back. Something wasn't right. I went upstairs and asked again. "Can you please give me an idea of what you're asking for these records? My cousin and I don't want to go through all of these boxes and then have you turn down an offer."

He replied, "No offer has ever been turned down. We will both be happy. I am not a museum."

Three hours later, covered in soot, asbestos and who knows what else, we completed about 10% of the stash and decided to call it, assuming we'd be back at some point.

We found hundreds of records, but had to settle for 173, as we had a budget.

Some very nice titles, though only a dozen or so real gems were found. Most were just good solid titles, Patti Smith, the Stones, Bruce, Pink Floyd, etc.. Some nice punk and soul. Rarest things we found were Richie Sambora's first band Message and a mono Little Eva record. Nice records. Good condition, but not mint. We made an offer. It was not only fair, but more than our usual offer. We wanted to come back.

This arrogant, crude, humorless, condescending excuse for a man, started taking one LP at a time and asking us what we were going to do with the records. "Is this for resale or to keep?" "You know what this goes for?" I did know what "it" went for. He didn't. When I asked about a record on Epic I had never seen before, by a band called West, he offered this choice bit of information, "They were a band on Epic."

He counter-offered a price that was exactly four times what we offered. We were speechless. He asked again, "What are you going to do with that Jeff Lynne?" It was a 12" of his solo single "Doin' That Crazy Thing." I said, "I'm a fan, so I'll probably keep it." He said, "Look here. A french picture sleeve 45 went for $62." "Okay," I said, "but this isn't a French picture sleeve 45." At that point, I wanted him to eat the Jeff Lynne 12".

We were livid. We left with nothing, leaving this pompous asshole in his museum with his records, trains and used printers. He said, "Ah, that Brazilian guy...you know him? You read about him, the one who buys everything? He's coming. He'll take it all. It'll all be gone in two weeks."

Thanks, jerk-off.

Out of respect for his wife and children, I will not mention his name. But he is out there, with a website and some fine endorsements. But as a public service announcement, I will offer this:

This guy is a creep and liar. He wasted our time and will waste yours. Have I mentioned that he was a condescending pompous ass?

Thanks for your time.

Here is an Ian McLagan-centric mix for your weekend.

TRACKLIST

Had Me A Real Good Time- Faces
What'Cha Gonna Do About It- Small Faces
Little Bit Of Love- Dwight Twilley
The Word- Bettye Lavette
My Way Of Giving- Small Faces
Monday- Wilco
Glad & Sorry- Faces
The Truth, the Whole Truth, Nothing But The Truth- Ian Hunter
Song Of A Baker- Small Faces
Can't Buy My Love- Barbara Lynn
Deep Six Saturday- Tommy Keene
Too Bad- Faces
Slangshotz & Boomerangz- C.C. Adcock & the Lafayette Marquis
Debris- Faces
You Need Loving- Small Faces
If I Should Fall Behind- Bruce Springsteen
Oo La La- Faces

zip