Searching crates for the bold and weird
Have you ever gone to your local record store (if that is still a thing) and stumbled across a discount bin full of old and used vinyl records? Well, if you have, you would know that these bins can hold endless entertainment in the simple scrolling of unintentionally hilarious records that stock said bins. In this instantaneous era of iTunes and social media, these albums are often left ignored in the slowly disappearing market of physical music stores. Yet, there is priceless pleasure to be had in looking at these artists’ records and their inability to age in any graceful manner. In doing so, these vinyl relics become stepping stones in observing an artist’s decline into unmatched levels of absurdity. With that in mind, I decided to go to Guelph’s The Beat Goes On and take a gander through their used records. The trip was a success, as there was certainly no shortage of tacky and goofy-looking records. In the end, I bought four records of varying degrees of hilarity, choosing to share my thoughts on two for this piece.
The first record I encountered was Jay Ferguson’s 1979 release, Real Life Ain’t This Way. In coming across this album, I was immediately drawn to Jay’s perfect flow and glorious moustache. Ferguson looks completely unfazed, by what can only be assumed as a fan blowing back his hair, as his piercing and distant stare indeed shares the sentiment that “real life ain’t this way.” To make matters worse (or perhaps better), Jay is wearing a blazer without a shirt and, for some unknown reason, decided to throw on a tie. Ferguson’s lone wolf attitude is further exemplified in his haphazard attempt of doing up said tie as he loops it just once, either representing his inability to actually tie a tie, or just his reinforcing his “bad boy” demeanour. In looking at Ferguson, one has to think that Avril Lavigne’s “Sk8er Boi”-era tie and shirt combo was at least slightly inspired by him.
After thoroughly roasting Jay’s aloof appearance, I had to give the album a listen. The album’s opener, “Shakedown Cruise,” begins with an assortment of sounds that range from generic guitar riffing, wailing synths, and a perfectly tasteful use of cowbell. All the while, I felt like I had heard this before, but I soldiered on until I came across these striking lines: “The captain laughs, he says, ‘You boys want some sex/ you can squeeze the sails, you can lick the decks.’” Alright. At this point, I had had enough of the poetic styling of Jay Ferguson, and decided to take a look at a different record.
My next record was a more well known album by Grease‘s Olivia Newton-John, titled Physical. This record, which contains the 80s smash-hit “Physical,” features Newton-John strewn across the album cover as she appears to be splashing her hands in an unknown body of water, looking to the sky in an oddly sensual way. At first glance, the relevance of the photo to the album, or to the song “Physical” itself, is a mystery to me. However, my confusion only increased in opening the gatefold, as there appeared a large photo of Newton-John swimming with a dolphin, accompanied by the words “If I can only make one man aware/ One person care/ Then I’ll have done what I promised you.” Once again, I have no idea what this has to do with “getting physical,” or anything else, really, but I decided that maybe a listen would clear things up. As the record reached its end, the song “The Promise (The Dolphin Song)” began, and the aforementioned words were repeated, bringing light to the situation. Following a Google search of Newton-John, I quickly realized that she is, in fact, a strong advocate for dolphin safety, among other things. In turn, I began to see her intentions in creating “The Promise,” yet I am still baffled at its inclusion in an album titled Physical, featuring songs like “Stranger’s Touch” and “Make A Move On Me.” Furthermore, the use of dolphin cries throughout “The Promise” seems a bit excessive and slightly eerie.
As the album Physical closed, I had come to the conclusion that I liked it, or really, liked anything more than Real Life Ain’t This Way, and that popular forms of expression in the 70s and 80s were rather bizarre. All the while, I felt my trip to the record store was successful, as it was a rewarding change from my usual procuring of music by means of scouring YouTube, if not for the interactive and hilarious experience I had.