I went shopping at a certain large electronics store chain this weekend. I don't want to get sued, so in the interest of anonymity, I'll refer to it as "Optimum Purchase." I recently decided to replace some of my beloved old cassettes with CDs, beginning with the 1990 Concrete Blonde classic, "Bloodletting." I searched the aisle and to my shock it was there, for a mere $11.99. I snatched it up with glee, planning to listen to it on the drive back to Hell - I mean Laramie.
I was about halfway up College Avenue when it was finally opened and loaded up. I cued the first song, anticipating "The Vampire Song"... yet some sort of horrible hillbilly bluegrass abortion fell from the speakers. I looked at the CD case - the cover art was right, the liner notes were as I remembered from the days when I had this album on vinyl. I ejected the CD, and it also claimed to be Concrete Blonde, "Bloodletting." I popped it back in and checked several other tracks - every song was a whining tenor and a nasal alto yowling about prison sentences and how their parents had been siblings, over a pack of banjos and fiddles.
I returned to Optimum Purchase, and calmly explained to the young man at the customer service desk that although it said Concrete Blonde, it was not, in fact, Concrete Blonde. He looked at me as if I had suddenly sneezed up several live goldfish on his countertop. I explained it again. Then I explained it to his supervisor. Then once again. Despite my explanations, and my confession that I have owned this album three times before and thus know what it is supposed to sound like, they clearly did not believe me.
Finally, they said I could exchange it. I told the manager that I would only accept an exchange if they opened the new one and played it for me to be certain that it really was Concrete Blonde. He initially shook his head, but once he saw the "don't make me tip your building over" look on my face, he agreed. I checked the aisle, and naturally, the inbred Appalachian wailing was the only copy. After explaining it to another manager (twice), they finally decided that they should give me a refund, lest I begin to cough up larger, deadlier fishes.
I want to hear "The Sky is a Poisonous Garden" while I drive - is that so much to ask?
It hardly seems possible...
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4 comments:
This seems to me to be the karmic event, rather than the vacuum belt. I mean, smells go away, having to hear "my mamma and poppie are cousins" to the twang of a banjo - that never leaves you.
Agreed, but how bad IS my karma? No one should have to listen to cousin fuckin' music, regardless of their sins...
Unless, of course their sins are "cousin fuckin'"...
Holy crap, you're a post machine.
I once bought a Coalesce cd at, umm... "Circular Digital Media Jockey." I imagine it's no fun explaining your infatuation with Concrete Blonde to strangers; it's even harder when you buy a disc boasting dual fetuses on the cover and arguing that yes, while the band is somewhat noisy, they do not sound like you're trying to play a disc of computer software in the stereo--which is exactly what was going on.
STD for lyfe!
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