DREAMING OF TOWER Parishioner John Ingham:
Ah, mention of Tower Records brings me misty-eyed to the misspent days of my youth, haunting the Tower Records that stood proudly at the end of the Sunset Strip. In the late 60s and very early 70s, it was one of the few places in LA where you could order English imports. It was also the only place that had a serious rack of old 45s, as well as almost every record in print. As I learned more and more about the history of rock and roll (thank you Greg Shaw and Michael Ochs) I would come out of Tower with as many records as could be reasonably carried by two arms. Somewhere late 69 I staggered up to the checkout with an armload, to notice that the guy before me had a similar pile stacked on the counter. A fellow traveller was not an everyday occurrence. I looked to see who it was, to be greeted by the red eyed nod of Keith Richards. Twenty years later, same Tower Records, a similar occurrence, though CDs this time. This time I was standing next to Mick Hucknall. The star-struck effect was not the same. In fact, entirely absent. (in mitigation, he did have great taste in records.)
Parishioner Will Birch: I was once pleased to pick up what could only be described as a 'shrink wrap buster' at Tower in L.A. This plastic device, 50c or so at the check out, was disc-shaped, about the size of a half-crown. It had a groove on one side containing a minute cutting blade, and when you ran it along the aperture edge of a new, shrink-wrapped vinyl LP, it miraculously opened the pack, leaving the cardboard undisturbed and the cellophane otherwise taut and intact (for the more anal collector). Years later, this device (what do you mean, "have you still got it?"!) was superseded at Tower by a CD jemmy, designed to remove those ghastly, gluey labels you find along the top edge of US CDs (often too tedious to remove). Same principle, modified design, but not much call for either, I would guess, in the download environment.
RING FENCED RECORDS Parishioner Ashers: Absolutely, definitely, no way never ever, use Johnny Cash's version of Hurt, lest you piss over all that the video represented. Oh, too late...running shoes anyone?
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