#savacentre | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

djevsmev · 4 years

Text

Episode 5: RECORD STORE DAY 2020! Sort of.

HELLO!

I hope you’re all keeping inside and keeping well.

Alas, RSD 2020 has been postponed due to diseases. But to help ease the pain,* it’s time for a brand new episode of Vinyl Lockdown! I’ve even bust out my record cleaning cloth (above) so the music sounds extra good. Now it’s already almost 5pm so I’ll try to dash through this blog to get it up ASAP so I’ll try to cut to the chase.

(*This will in no-way ease the financial pain the indie record stores will feel but there’s only so much one man can do.)

Let’s begin!

THE CAST OF GREASE - THE GREASE MEGAMIX

Jive Bunny had such great feedback, this had to get a spin. Sticker shows it’s a young Ev purchase but there’s another coming so let’s just batter on just now.

THE FOUR TOPS - IT’S THE SAME OLD SONG

Story goes Holland-Dozier-Holland needed to write & record a hit with just a day’s warning to follow up “I Can’t Help Myself” so they just reversed the chord seq and called it “Same Old Song” Rock N Roll Myth? Don’t care, great song.

ABSENTEE - THE GETAWAY

No idea why I bought this: don’t remember the band or song but do remember having this oversized homemade cover in my collection since the mid-2000s. And I paid full price. It’s Ltd Edition so was that the only reason? I bought something purely because the cover caught my eye?

I’ve never really done that but you never know. Anyway, I put it on and I think the tune’s really really good!

BIFFY CLYRO - 57

Early 2000s, I didn’t really know anything by Biffy but I went to see them with friends for a recording of a BBC Scotland TV show called The Beat Room. I remember hearing this for the first time thinking “That’s how you write a fucking rock chorus.” Incredible.

BILL HALEY AND HIS COMETS - ROCK AROUND THE CLOCK

Modern Rock* to pioneers of rock & roll. I mean, you don’t see this cover and not put it on, do you. Also, the cover is made out of really thick card. You will be tested on this.

(*By “Modern” I obviously mean “almost 20 years ago. Jesus...)

PREFAB SPROUT - THE DEVIL HAS ALL THE BEST TUNES

Unfortunately I don’t think this is one of them. Too ‘free jazz’ for my tastes. I’ll be honest, I was disappointed: I put this on because of how much I’d liked “When Love Breaks Down.”

EMPIRE-BUILDER - I AM VASCO DA GAMA

Late 90′s Glasgow maths-rock legends and all round fantastic people. I chose “I am Vasco Da Game” because I think one of my pals had an excellent T-Shirt with that on it. I may even have inherited this from one of them. Can’t remember though. #greatanecdote

COREY HART- NEVER SURRENDER

I saw this and thought it was the song from the finale of Kickboxer. Unfortunately, it’s not. Turns out that was by a guy called Stan Bush. On the plus side it is an awesome 80s power ballad. Just remember, I ain’t crossing Freddy Li, and neither should you.

BIG FUN - BLAME IT ON THE BOOGIE

Another young Ev purchase. I found out recently my pal met them at Savacentre supermarket in Edinburgh when she was about 10, signed her copy HERSELF, and then claimed to all her friends she’d met Big Fun. Unbelievable.

Now there’s no time to tell The Gold Sticker Anecdote, but I think that was probably worth it. Another time.

BEN LEE - CIGARETTES WILL KILL YOU

These last 2 are simple to talk about: I was working in a record shop, this came out and kept getting played on the in-store radio station. I thought it was really good. Bought it.

HOTHOUSE FLOWERS - DON’T GO

Found this, it’s a banger, always end with a banger. Done.

Happy RSD, folks. Let’s do it again when it actually gets re-scheduled.

Keep safe.x

0 notes

adambstingus · 6 years

Text

Hollie McNish: ‘I couldn’t believe that Santa knew my name. Then he pulled out the presents …’

How a childhood Christmas turned from frenzied excitement to utter despair

When I was a kid, between the ages of about four and 12, I was often taken to the local hockey club on a Saturday. The clubhouse looked like an oversized wooden shoebox and served orange squash when the bar at the back of the main room was open. The entranceway smelled of muddy boots and there was a river at the end of the pitches that we kids could run to when we got bored. It was great.

Every December, the hockey club put on a Christmas party – the clubroom was filled with plastic pop-up tables coated in patterned Christmas covers, bowls of crisps and ham and jam sandwiches and see-through plastic jugs of the strongest, most delicious orange and blackcurrant squash.

At about 6pm, once we’d all downed at least 20 cups of squash, popped and sniffed the party poppers, and stuffed our faces with as much sliced battenburg as we could manage, a tinkling of tiny bells would begin outside. One kid would notice first, then a whisper to other little ears and the news would spread quick as chickenpox, until we’d hurl ourselves in a group frenzy towards the slightly opened back doors.

A young Hollie McNish. Photograph: Handout

Straining for a glimpse, which, as a short-arse kid, I didn’t find easy, we could just about see Santa. We’d watch in amazement, pushing for a better view, as black boots and belt and buckle approached from the car-park shadows. Santa had arrived, sat on a wooden sleigh filled with a huge sack of presents, pulled by two “reindeer”.

We kids did not notice the reindeer accessories – not the elastic string from Rudolf’s “nose”, not the hairband holding the “antlers’” in place, not the small rickety wheels underneath the “sleigh” – or the dad who had downed his beer and dashed to the changing rooms minutes before the bells began to chime.

Instead, we stared and we screamed; those honest, joy-fuelled screams that so many of us lose the ability to release in adult life. We would be told to keep calm by those same larger humans, to be quiet, to behave, threatened with make-believe tales of Santa’s dislike of loud noises or claims that “you’ll frighten the reindeers”and then, all threats failing to contain our bursting, we would simply be dragged back into the club room by slightly pissed parents and told to sit on the big rug and wait.

The Santa who came to my local hockey club was not the real Santa, of course – but I didn’t know that at the time. This belief was the reason that, when the presents were dished out, I cried a lot and asked to go home and then cried the whole way home in the car.

I remember a girl who sat next to me on that rug one year when I was five, maybe six, dressed in a purple dress, neat as a Laura Ashley violin lesson. Long hair plaited with silken ribbons, perfectly bowed, sweetly smiling at me as I sat cross-legged in the pink velour tracksuit and blue wellies I refused to change out of for the first eight years of my life. I smiled back at her, pleased to make such a glamorous new friend.

A Barbie Dream House. Photograph: Mattel

Santa paced the room, ho-hoed and hoed some more, dished the presents out one by one, built the tension terrifically, eventually stopped in front of me and my new best mate. He said our names. He said our first names and our second names and I couldn’t believe that Santa knew my second name. I wiggled, butt clenched on the floor.

Santa pulled out two presents, the first a huge cube wrapped in paper covered in silver swirls and baubles, as big as the biggest Barbie Dream House box I’d spied the day before in Savacentre. Then a second gift wrapped in smiling snowmen, this time perhaps the size of the Christmas edition Cadburys selection box that they sold in our local newsagent’s.

He passed us our gifts. The girl next to me unwrapped her Barbie Dream House. I unwrapped my Christmas Edition Cadbury selection box and one paper aeroplane and attempted to kill the girl next to me with my frown. I looked around, grumpy as a Monday school run. I watched my brother unwrap his Christmas Edition Cadbury selection box, while peering incredulously at the boy beside him, who was throwing lashings and lashings of bubblewrap out of a big box, the exact size of a brand new remote controlled car.

When my mum and dad, having failed in their pleas that I should be grateful, and guilt-ridden when I asked why Santa bought the other kids better stuff, informed me later that that was not the real Santa but merely an impostor hired by the club, that the parents had been told to buy the presents for the kids and that there was a £5 limit. “A bloody £5 limit!” my mum would repeat for the 50th time 20 years later, as I told this same story, pissed, at yet another family Christmas do, I still did not forgive them.

I ate the Christmas edition Cadbury selection box and threw the paper aeroplane once. My parents were the only ones in the whole clubhouse who had stuck to the £5 limit.

Two years ago, when my daughter, five years old, came home from school after the Christmas break and asked me why Santa had only got her one gift and a stocking, but had paid for her friend’s entire bedroom to be redecorated and for their whole family to go to Spain, I finally forgave my parents.

I told my daughter that those parents were lying: that Santa Claus did not have time to redecorate children’s bedrooms en route around the world and that he definitely does not buy package holidays. Which is true: he doesn’t.

So I guess this is a thank you to my mum and dad for sticking to the rules with that delicious Christmas edition Cadbury selection box, and a winter plea to prepare any fellow Santa lovers for next year: if you would like to buy your beautiful little blisters 500 presents for Christmas, which you are by all means entitled to do, at least give yourself the credit for the first 499 of them.

• Hollie McNish’s most recent book is Plum (Picador)

from All Of Beer http://allofbeer.com/hollie-mcnish-i-couldnt-believe-that-santa-knew-my-name-then-he-pulled-out-the-presents/ from All of Beer https://allofbeercom.tumblr.com/post/176103366352

0 notes

samanthasroberts · 6 years

Text

Hollie McNish: ‘I couldn’t believe that Santa knew my name. Then he pulled out the presents …’

How a childhood Christmas turned from frenzied excitement to utter despair

A young Hollie McNish. Photograph: Handout

A Barbie Dream House. Photograph: Mattel

I ate the Christmas edition Cadbury selection box and threw the paper aeroplane once. My parents were the only ones in the whole clubhouse who had stuck to the £5 limit.

• Hollie McNish’s most recent book is Plum (Picador)

Source: http://allofbeer.com/hollie-mcnish-i-couldnt-believe-that-santa-knew-my-name-then-he-pulled-out-the-presents/

from All of Beer https://allofbeer.wordpress.com/2018/07/20/hollie-mcnish-i-couldnt-believe-that-santa-knew-my-name-then-he-pulled-out-the-presents/

0 notes

djevsmev · 4 years

Text

Episode 6: Suspicions of a Stinker.

HELLO!

I hope you’re all keeping inside and keeping well.

Back when I started this blog, you may remember that my intention was to keep these shows fairly spontaneous, to avoid them being overly curated. Well, this episode is absolutely not that. In fairness, the record selections were around 80% - 90% my usual “if-I-stumble-across-it-and-like-the-look-of-it, it-gets-played” theory. However, once I’d picked about 9 records I realised this selection was potentially quite turd-heavy, so I thought I better put a couple of known quantities in there to try and balance it out a bit. I also tried to spread them out a bit so you shouldn’t have to tolerate more than 4mins of sonic disaster. Theoretically.

Also, it was only when I was time-stamping the tracks that there appears to be almost 8mins between tracks 8 & 9. Now track 8 is definitely not almost 8mins long song god knows what I’ve done there. the time stamps are wrong or there’s a sneaky gap somewhere.

Still, maybe you could use the break to perhaps go to the loo or put the kettle on or something? The world is your oyster!

Let’s Begin!

BLACK LACE - AGADOO

I did warn you. You can’t say you weren’t warned. I remember dancing to this as a kid. I loved it. It probably goes without saying that it’s a bad record, but it’s become a by-word for awfulness and I wanted to hear it again to find out just how bad it is. I mean, I was googling it and it’s been voted the worst song of all time.

Frankly, that’s nonsense. It’s fine. I mean, terrible, but it’s not significantly more terrible than many songs. It’s a novelty record for god sake, and I would argue it’s pretty well produced: The brass sound excellent.

Don’t get me wrong, this isn’t some kind of hot take. It is far from a good record, it’s bad, but it’s Alan Partridge shrugging his shoulders at the meeting with Tony Hayers-bad, not the worst single of all time.

And a cheery pineapple guy teaches you the dance moves which will keep your 5 year-old entertained for 4mins. (Or 12 if he makes you hear it 3 times on the trot. Ah, I think I see where the hatred may come from.)

ROXY MUSIC - VIRGINIA PLAIN

In saying that, Agadoo is still awful so I thought you better have a palette cleanser before we moved on. I saw this in a second hand shop somewhere and didn’t own it on any albums/compilations so for a couple of quid thought it was well worth a buy. And it is. Fact.

LOWGOLD - BEAUTY DIES YOUNG

I couldn’t remember anything about this before I put this on, and afterwords that fact didn’t surprise me. It’s just a little bit plodding, it doesn’t really go anywhere. It’s nice enough, I suppose, it just didn’t really grip me.

Talk about damming with faint praise. Sorry Lowgold. If any of you ever read this this, take into account the fact it’s coming from a guy that basically defended Black Lace a few paragraphs ago (Jesus, they’re called “Black Lace!” That’s something I’ve heard so many times I accept, but Black Lace? They thought that would be a good name. My word.) so what the hell does my opinion count for? SFA all.

TONY MARTIN - BARRIERS

This was the point I began to get worried about this episode. I’d noticed this a couple of Eps ago and liked the artwork so wanted to GIVE IT A SPIN. That’s what proper DJs like me call playing a record. But it was a rogue element, and we’d already had Agadoo, and Lowgold had proven a disappointment. Could this be a “triple-shitter” before we’d even hit track 5?

Thankfully, I really like it. It’s very New-Order-y but more upbeat, more pop-y. I wanted to find out more about Tony Martin but I can’t seem to find out anything. This was released on Barrier Records and according to Discogs it was the only thing he released, so I’m guessing it was a self-release and didn’t do well enough for him to be picked up, and god knows in the mid 80s it would cost a bomb to record and release a record yourself. Ah well, whatever happened, Tony Martin can be pleased with this. Good work.

LLOYD COLE AND THE COMMOTIONS - PERFECT SKIN

This isn’t a special “save the playlist” selection, it was part of the original 80% selection, but I did put it after Tony Martin so there was a cracker in case Barriers had been terrible (sorry to doubt you, Tony). Rather than saving the day, it’s resulted in a double 80s pop playlist sensation! And to think not 2 songs ago I was thinking of a triple-shitter! That seems so long ago.

This lockdown really messes with your sense of time.

Now listen to Lloyd Cole because it’s great

BIS - DETOUR

Speaking of great (proper journalism, this) I love this tune.

I first saw Bis when they did Kandy Pop on TOTP pops and though “Wow! This is blowing my mind! Why have they put this shit on the telly?” But I was young and an idiot. Sorry about that. The thing that really gets me about Bis, though, is how they seem to be able to turn their hand to anything. This is on the same album as Eurodisco, a total floor filling banger that seemed to come from nowhere, then Detour was released which is like some weird dirty noir tune, whilst still definitely a pop song. Talented people.

It’s also absolutely crucial to note that this song is in the Spirit Stick section of Bring It On, an absolute joy of a popcorn movie which, as long as you can look past a thankfully dated bit which would now rightly be considered sexual assault, still stands up.

Now I write that, it’s quite a big caveat.

THE SIMPSONS - DO THE BARTMAN (7” HOUSE MIX)

Little did I know when I was popping those little gold stickers on my records that the line “If you can do the Bart you’re bad, like Michael Jackson” would date so very badly. To be honest, even if I could have predicted the future, I was in such a hurry that I didn’t have time to think at all. But that story’s for another time.

To avoid any thoughts that I may be using “bad” in the colloquial sense, let me say that this is not a good record. The B-side is the “album” version and now I try to remember, I think I might have listened to that side when I put it on. This A side has got some weird harmony effect on the vocal or something. You can understand why it was done though. They had to try and exploit the new, lucrative House scene that was kicking off across the country. Can you imagine if somebody had dropped the original mix right after Voodoo Ray? They would have looked like bloody idiots.

AFRIKA BAMBAATAA & THE GODFATHER OF SOUL JAMES BROWN - UNITY pt 1

I look at this record and what do I want? I want James Brown making funky noises and squeaks, and want Afrikaa Bambaataa shouting at me in a terrifying way, both of them doing it on the theme of coming together in the name of peace. This is exactly what I get. Great stuff. I don’t know a huge amount of James Brown stuff but I reckon Bambaataa’s sampled one of his famous records here because it sounds familiar. Someone with a far better musical knowledge than me can keep me right.

Part 1 was the A-side, 2 was on the B-side but you’re not getting that because I’m a filthy tease. Apparently if you bought the 12″ there were 6 parts! Wooft! You may think that’s excessive, but discrimination and prejudice is a big and complicated issue. It was lucky for us that TGOS soul took the decision to end it.

“Nuclear war is definitely out”

DIRE STRAITS - ROMEO AND JULIET

If it’s any consolation to Bis, at the same age I didn’t like Kandy Pop, I would have hated any and all Dire Straits. Loved them as a young kid, then in my mind they would have become literally everything that’s wrong with rock music, and now I think they’re great again. Teenage me could be a right arsehole. I mean, 20-something and 30-something me also had/has it in him to be a right arsehole (he writes a music blog while referring to himself in the 3rd person), but just not in reference to Dire Straits.

I love this song. It’s wonderful. It’s a little clichéd now but I don’t care. It’s lovely. And if I could get my guitar to sound like Knopfler’s on that tiny solo in the outro, I’d be delighted.

GLEN CAMPBELL - RHINESTONE COWBOY

If you’re looking for a record that will improve a potentially dodgy playlist, you can’t go far wrong with this banger.

What a f**king tune.

VARIOUS ARTISTS - FEED THE WORLD

Like Agadoo, this is the 2nd track that I knew, definitely, would be bad. It’s the B-side to Do They Know It’s Christmas? And from memory was a selection of celebrities giving spoken-word messages. I wanted to hear it as I thought this has got to be a car crash. I thought I better stick it at the end, though, so you can just give up if the thought of this makes you want to peel off your own skin.

It’s not quite as bad as I thought/hoped. Though there are some classics - trying to get a probably coked up Holly Johnson to say something without giggling and McCartney being at his most inappropriate upbeat McCartney are my personal favourites.

You may notice that I don’t have the legendary Peter Blake cover. Apparently when my mum went to buy this from Savacentre in Edinburgh at the behest of me and my sister, the vinyl had been printed, but such was the rush to get them in the shops, the sleeves hadn’t been finished yet. It was literally years before I realised it was supposed to have not just a cover, but one by a famous artist.

I decided to decorate it by attempting to add a transfer from a bubblegum. Unfortunately it didn’t quite take as I’d have liked, but the artistic intent was there.

Peter Blake’s a big pile of poo.

Savacentre’s notorious Hard Goods section

And that’s it. I think that could have been a lot worse and we’ve all got through pretty much unscathed. If anything, I think we’ve learned to have faith in Glen Campbell.

Keep safe.x

0 notes