The Lost Art of Record Shopping - MALICE / POST MORTEM / DECEASED

Got off work an hour early on Thursday and headed off the opposite direction of home and to the record store where the man with no smile works. It has been about a month since I saw that shrinkwrapped copy of the Skid Row vinyl but I was quite sure that with the ignorance of all, it would still be there. I was greeted by a sickly blond kid with a Gospel t-shirt. He looked like a Belle and Sebastian fan (so am I but I do not) and he was rocking the skinny jeans to the point of bursting. As I entered I nodded my head. He blinked. I am not sure if that was a salute. I went up straight to the S section and there it was, Skid Row, price? $9.99. Took it in my arms and kept on inspecting.  

I have seen more than a few semi quality hardcore vinyls in this place. A bunch of stuff from Feral Ward. A bunch of stuff I have not heard of and that look-wise does not look half as good as most metal releases. There were a few Profane Existence releases there too. But I did not care. I crave metal. No matter how cheesy, I crave it. If it is old and in spinnable condition, chances are I like it. More chances are that I want it. I like hardcore too, but if I have to pick between the two, there is no contest.

My first find was Malice’s In The Beginning…. (Atlantic, 1985) Me and this band go way back. I was about 12 when I grabbed a hold of this shitty Mexican hard rock magazine that for some accidental reason had landed in South American soil. There was a lot of coverage of Mexican bands I have never heard of. Cristal y Acero. Ramses. Those are the two I remember. I have not heard either but about six months ago I went into YouTube looking for old heavy metal videos and I stumbled upon a Ramses video. It sucked. The music and the video. Both equally.  So I left a comment saying something along the lines of, ‘hahahahahahah, that’s one shitty song.’ A day later, I got a blast of Spanish e-mails mentioning my mother in terms that I did not appreciate.  

I can’t recall the name of the magazine. It was printed in black and white, newspaper quality, and small size. I remember seeing the cover of In The Beginning… in one of those pages. The author spoke highly of this Cali band and even went as far as to compare them to Judas Priest. There is little artwork in the cover so I forgot about them as soon as I turned the page. But I do not forget names, nor logos. Let alone heavy metal names. And when I saw this record last week I knew I had to buy it. Mint condition. Price? $12.99. Ouch! Fuck it.

((In the Beginning...there was shit))

I kept on searching and I didn’t have to look far for my next find.  By the time I got to the letter P I found my next purchase. The Missing Link (New Renaissance, 1987) by Post Mortem. Price? $14.99. Mega ouch! Especially considering that it was a tad beat and that this is a four-song EP. But I did not know that until I got home. Plus, how could I resist a record with a cover like this? I think the boys in Post Mortem used to hate Charlie Benante, that’s why they placed him in the cover, in between a T-Rex and cavemen, as if his ilk, his breed, his kind, the metalhead, was just that, the missing link between zero-neuron beings and the modern times. That has got to be Benante. Big belly. Wiry puffy hair. Slayer t-shirt. Hands in pocket. Looks like a dumbass.

((The Missing Link is Charlie Benante))

By then, it was about time to get home and I knew I wasn’t going to have enough time to go through every single letter in the alphabet. I took a look around me, a quick peek to all the vinyl racks and to the records positioned up front and there it was, a Deceased record. As the Weird Travel On (Thrash Corner, 2005) to be more precise. How could anyone miss it? The covers that  embellish this band’s releases are a work of art. Tasty delicatessen stuff for metalheads. Price? $15.99. Who said that shopping vinyl was a cheap pleasure? No one that’s right. And at four, that was three more than what I was planning on buying so I had no option but to return the Skid Row record to the rack. I can always come back next month. I am pretty sure it will still be there. 

It may be a policy of this store to be a dick or to be as articulate as a mannequin, but the sickly Gospel-loving blond kid did not utter a word when I bought these records. He didn’t say 'hi', or 'bye', or ‘the total is $45’. I had to look at the register to know the final price and handed my card. Then, I walked out quietly...