While I'm not usually a fan of arbitrary holidays (Secretary Day, Fathers Day, Christmas), I'm always down with extolling the virtues of the local record store. The KEXP Blog is celebrating too, with an amazing feature: KEXP DJs and other contributors (including imaginary Liz, ChrisB, and Chris Estey from TIG!) have shared their favorite record store memories. I goofed and forgot to send mine in (damn flu has ruined everything for me this week), so I'm sharing mine here.
I was a musical lame-o living in Very Suburban Florida, with no access to music other than the Get the Led Out classic rock available on commercial radio at the time. Then I wandered into Q Records, the ONLY remotely independent and cool record store in town, and met the clerk with the long black hair and the piercings in the Gene Loves Jezebel t-shirt (swoon), who became my very cool first boyfriend and who sent me on the path of musical righteousness, catching me up on all the dark new/old wave bands (Bauhaus, Cure, Smiths, Love and Rockets, you get the idea).
My world was rocked, literally.
Gobs of great music later, after spending endless hours in Q Records trying to impress said boyfriend and his endlessly-cooler-than-I-was co-workers, who walks in? My Dad. He's very excited to show how hip and cool he is, so he wanders around, (loudly) announcing that's he's my father, and makes a very big deal about needing to buy that Michael Jackson record with "Dirty Diana" on it.
I think he even broke out and sang part of the refrain.
I heard about it again and again from the employees. Luckily, they were so endlessly cool that they were accepting, and thought my Dad was just funny. Not mortifying, as teenaged me found him.