Looper by Michael Conlon

Author:Michael Conlon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Gatekeeper Press
Published: 2018-10-26T18:45:19+00:00

iven Tuesday afternoons means Ladies Day at the club, Owen Rooney and I agree to skip out on a second loop. (Ladies play slow as syrup.)

We arrive at my house, and Owen combs through my record collection. “You don’t have many albums. Nuthin’ mod at all. Mods’re s’posed to hate rock, but I like it all.”

So would that make you a Mocker? I keep my little joke to myself.

“No one ’round ’ere cares anyway, everyone playing that silly post-punk post-disco synthesized mishmash.”

“I don’t have the money to buy new records every day.” I have pretty decent music taste compared to most kids, but Owen’s ahead of the curve because almost all of the great music travels to America via England.

“Why don’t you just ask your old man for some money?” He scans through some more albums. “No Bowie? The Clash? The Kinks?”

“He’s not exactly into funding my music tastes.” No one gets it. I want to tell him not every kid in the Hills can afford to buy albums every day. I get most of my music from J.J. and the Morning Crew and Arthur P on 101 WRIF—my radio heaven. That’s why we have music stations on the radio. I do have something to show off, though. “I just got a cassette tape player. A Sony.”

He bends down and pushes the bass boost button. “That’s mint.” I rip out two live albums to impress him with my musical tastes. Foghat Live and KISS Alive! “Jesus. I got some work to do.” He stands straight and drags his fingers through his thick black hair. “Springsteen. Okay. I can live with that.”

Good.

He stops at a Cars album. “How much did you pay for this album?”

“’Round eight bucks.”

“Rip-off.” He pretend throws the Cars disc out the window and returns the vinyl to its jacket. “I know a place where you can get records for practically nuthin’. It’ll blow your mind. Let’s go.”

We ride the bus to Sam’s Jams, not far from the Palms, but to Hills kids it might as well be the world’s end. On the trip down, Owen writes up a list of bands for me to find in the store. An ocean of records greets me in Sam’s, and it’s like I’ve gone to vinyl heaven. Owen tells me Chrysler used to make motor boats here.

We hunt through the stacks of records for gems, coaxing the vinyl records out of their plastic jackets to inspect for scratches. Records with deep nicks might as well be Frisbees. Faint spiderweb scratches don’t skip. A decent Who or Zeppelin disc is impossible to find unless you’re willing to shell out $10. If that’s the case, I might as well just buy it brand new uptown at Vinny’s Hi-Fi.

I pluck Owen’s number-one pick, “The Kids Are Alright” by The Who, from a sale shelf labeled Greatest Hits Albums. A steal at only $4. I finger the disc from its wrapper and notice a light scratch curving across songs four and five—“Magic Bus” and “Long Live Rock.

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