THRIFT SCORES

Some month/some day/1999: While combing through the Children's Hospital of
the King's Daughters' second-hand racks, I came across a pair of Converse
Jack Purcell pearly-white oxfords with the tags still on them. My
always-looking-for-a-bargain eyes had seen said footwear retail for $19.99
and up at yer too damn crowded Military Circle, Lynnhaven, and Greenbrier
Malls. By comparison, the CHKD price was more to my Bob Barker liking
--$5.99. The only problem was I had spent nearly that amount in quarters for
solitary billiards and "That's brisk, baby!" iced tea at the next door
laundry drop. Fuckin' Frank Sinatra! If I didn't pick up those common-sized
nine-and-a-halves right then and there, some other less-deserving rat in the
pack would bite on them like grade-A cheddar. The pantalones pockets were
empty, and my desk-drawer bank was too far to make a quick withdrawal. I had
to cook up a plan. And cook I did! Towards the middle of the store, a
surprisingly shiny Hotpoint oven rested next to a twenty-five-year-old
Zenith console weighing 10,000 pounds. Looking for some Pillsbury-gone-wrong
experiments, I opened the Hotpoint of entry. The Dough Boy was nowhere in
sight, but Misters Brillo Pad and Easy Off had left their tags. A formal
introduction was in order -- Mr. Pad and Mr. Off: I would like you both to
meet Mr. Purcell. That's right -- I placed the canvas Converses inside El
Hotpoint without having to bother with pre-heating. Just bake for sixteen
hours and serve. When the timer went off the next day, I reached into the
flames with my sunflowery oven mitts and pulled out an evenly heated pair
o'Purcells. Since that Con-job, I've used that trusty Hotpoint to keep other
dishes warm. Namely, record albums. You know, those big 'n' black
pizza-sized thingamajigs that white folks without a clue like to scratch
on...one rock journalist (personally, I'd rather be called an A-hole), who
was actually given a paycheck by Rolling Stone Fanzine, was triflin' when he
stated in a STP (not the gas treatment) review, "If vinyl still existed..."
Contrary to the paid scribbler's quote, the big twelve-inchers (old and new)
are still being fitted onto turntables. Best of all, that $5.99 I paid for
my Jacks will get you several Jills to stomp yer feet with. Here are some
selections of vinyl-treat confections that should pass your inspections. Dig
on these nursery rhymes, yo.

Ian Hunter - You're Never Alone With A Schizophrenic (Chrysalis Records,
1979)

Though considered by some as a "cult figure," many people are familiar with
Ian Hunter's work, even if they don't know he's the man behind it. That song
"All The Young Dudes" which kinda sounds like David Bowie? Yeah, "...Dudes"
had been penned by the former Davy Jones, but it was given to the band Mott
The Hoople. Their vocalist? Ian Hunter. Hair farmers from the late-80's may
remember Great White and "Once Bitten, Twice Shy." Jack Russell and friends
did a bang-up job on the track, but "Once Bitten..." wasn't written by any
of the sharp-toothed ones. Its author? Ian Hunter. In "The Drew Carey
Show's" opening frames ("All this energy calling me/Back where it comes
from/It's such a crude attitude/It's back where it belongs..."), my older
brother, Kate, Mimi, Oswald, and a bunch of extras are happily dancing and
lip-synching ("All the little chicks with their crimson lips...Living in sin
with a safety pin") to The Presidents Of The United States Of America's
arrangement of "Cleveland Rocks." Again, these false faces from the Seattle
area did not have executive privilege over this cut. The true prez of
"Cleveland Rocks?" Ian Hunter. Everything that made Mott The Hoople so
special is reprised on You're Never Alone... From the dark balladry of
"Ships" and "Standin' In My Light" to the rock 'n' piano punchers "Just
Another Night" and "Life After Death," Hunter bravely waved the outsider
flag into "The Me Decade." Whereas many acts during this period were given
to unfocused excess, Ian and crew (including ex-Mott mate Mick Ronson)
exercised careful restraint to create a per-usual (for Hunter/Ronson) classy
rock 'n' roll statement that's both of its time ("Bastard" has "late-70's
groove" all over it) AND of an earlier era (the Alan Freed sound bite in
"Cleveland Rocks"). Ohiohiohiohiohiohio...

The Knack - ...but the little girls understand (Capitol Records, 1980)

Every respectable toss-off outlet in the Ewe Ess Aye has at least one copy
of these "wannabe Beatles'" breakthrough album (the many-times platinum Get
The Knack). This is because The Knack's most well-known tune, "My Sharona,"
was (according to my contact) the number-one single for all of 1979.
Middle-age professors -- who had courted "the pretty one" to Billboard's top
steps -- have since upgraded their Get The Knack bowls to compact disc for
chunkier Campbell's Soup-style warmth. On the spoon's other side, geometry
teachers -- who've settled into their boomer years with heaping portions of
Progresso smooth-jazz slop -- look back at those portraits of skinny-tied
adolescence and laugh whilst asking "What was I thinking?" of themselves.
Even though there's no question Get The Knack is a bonafide powerpoprock
'n' roll classic stuffed with many-sides-of-relationship goodies like "Your
Number Or Your Name," "Good Girls Don't," and "Frustrated," I couldn't
convince Hollister to "Take The Knack" at The Nice Shoplifter's Price. Hey,
those "Knuke The Knack" buttons weren't meant to be taken at face value.
Jackson Browne is upset and so am I. But "The Pretender" thinks Primus
sucks. Really. Unlike the wide availability of The Knack's debut El Pee,
...but the little girls understand is rarely seen anywhere. When a
mint-minus copy of that record turned up at Goodwill for under fifty cents,
I jumped on it like DLR in that video. Perhaps anticipating a letdown in
terms of sales, The Knack's sophomore session commences with "Baby Talks
Dirty" -- a lustful slice of self-parody that damn near replicates the thump
and attitude of "Sharona." Also out for wham-bam-thank-you-maam kicks is
"The Hard Way," which expresses its desires right from the get-go with a
bangin' "Can't Explain"/"Clash City Rockers"-esque pleased-to-meet/meat-you
intro. The tender moments aren't left alone either, as "Can't Put A Price On
Love" (slow dance), "Hold On Tight And Don't Let Go" (quick cuddle), and
"The Feeling That I Get" (girl-group goose bumps) go against Dr. William
Joel's counsel. That old time rock 'n' roll is revisited on "(Havin' A) Rave
Up." With its Little Richard-like whoopin' and hollerin', it'll even get YOU
out on the floor. ...but the little girls understand doesn't slump one
iota. In fact, the album's variation makes it more deserving of higher marks
than its superstar sibling. Quote from producer Commander Chapman (where's
Chinn?): "As you listen to this album, you will discover the many different
sides of The Knack. Side 1 and 2."

States - Picture Me With You (Boardwalk Records Inc., 1981)

Tidewater Virginia's entry in the power-pop-washed-by-New-Wave sweepstakes,
the States enjoyed tremendous sales of their eponymous debut (which I
have yet to find/hear, but All Music Guide gave it four stars) and a profile
that extended beyond the borders of Nawfuck and Vaaa Beeech. Found this
sugary buzz of VepCo voltage next to sixteen or so stripped wires from the
Wichita Lineman. Right from the needle's touch, "Picture Me With You" (the
SONG -- "Picture me with you/Black and white will do/Picture me all over your
room...") and "Saturday Night" ("Said she'll meet me on Saturday night/A
dream come true/Saturday night/A secret rendezvous...") got me sayin', "Man,
I've heard these songs before but didn't know who did 'em." Could've sworn
Eff Em Nine Tee Nine had once spun "Saturday Night" on...Saturday nights.
Ex-99 Emeritus of Laser Rock Mike Arlo is thanked on the LP's backside, so
maybe either he or Les "Rock 'N' Roll Tidewater" Wooten gave it some "Dr.
Madblood" late-night attention. Both "Saturday Night" and "Picture Me With
You" are Rhino D.I.Y. - American Power Pop, Volume 3 worthy, in case that
fine reissue label chooses to continue the series. Elsewhere on
Picture..., a number previously made famous by fellow Hampton Roads
resident Juice Newton ("Angel Of The Morning") could've qualified as an
in-joke, but it's played sincerely with some Cheap Trick-like re-stylizing.
Good thing, because Miss Juicy Fruit brings back haunting remembrances of:
1)Blood, 2)Broken glass, and 3)Boxes. "Tell Me It's Love" and "Let's Roll"
retain the pop splendor but stretch out their appeal with rippin' guitar
solos from Barry Scott (do you have a brother named Andy?). "Love On The
Line" and "Get It" (sung by Scott) employ some of the New Wave tricks of the
trade, with special-effect guitars and just-right keyboard sounds. "Love You
Girl" showcases ABBA-type harmonies a la "S.O.S." (Note: ABBA were glam NOT
DISCO!!!). Picture Me With You is an excellent wax platter that makes me
wish I would've parted with an Andrew Jackson to see the States' reunion
show last year. Scott now fronts a band called The Barrys -- whose
contribution to the Virginia Beach Rocks comp. ("My Marie") surfaced
greatness amidst a shark-infested sea of Dave Matthews Clone Bands.

Van Halen - Van Halen II (Warner Brothers, 1979)

After making a classic-outta-the-wrapper LP which spawned a billion copycat
guitarists (air and otherwise), the Halen could've pulled a Boston (the
two-Presidential-term gap between that band's "Don't Look Back" and "Third
Stage" full-lengths) by collecting mansions, cars, and afro picks with their
fat first-album royalty cheques. Fortunately, II closely followed the ice
cream truck that was VHI. Better still, this go-behind cart's many flavors
are just as satisfying as its predecessor's. "Dance The Night Away" is a
breezy and laid-back slice of summertime. Many passionate make-out soirees
in open T-topped Mustangs were no doubt kindled by those old enough to take
a chance. "Women In Love" also doesn't rush the lovey-dovey, with some
well-placed "ooohs" and "aaahs." The ladies in question are a bit crazy,
though. "Beautiful Girls" have drinks in their hand and their toes in the
sand. If you're in need of a sweet-talking honey, be cautious. She and the
rest of them like to fool around. "Spanish Fly" is an aphrodisiacal guitar
noodle which gets one in the mood for "D.O.A.". Broken down and dressed in
rags, this dirty-faced kid in a garbage can leaves any romantic thoughts out
on the highway. When you're all by your lonesome, sometimes you've just
gotta smile and sing, "C'monmonmonmonmonmonmon, baby - Bottoms Up!" Chase
that with something Linda Ronstadt used to tell her exes: "You're no good,
no good, no good -- Baby, you're no good." Halen will say it again... The
three remaining axes to grind ("Somebody Get Me A Doctor," "Outta Love
Again," and "Light Up The Sky") contradict both Ronstadt and VH, because
II is very good, very good, very good -- Baby, it's very good. You'll play
it again.

The Outfield - Play Deep (Columbia Records, 1985)

"Josie's on a vacation far away/Come around and talk it over/So many things
that I wanna say/You know I like my girls a little bit older/I just wanna
use your love, tonight/I don't wanna lose your love, tonight." If you were
a wall-ball tennis champion at Churchland Junior High School in Eight Tee
5ive, chances are dang good that you heard "Your Love" comin' out of every
passing Pontiac Fiero. This song and band have often been mistakenly lumped
in with bad wimp "rockers" like Glass Tiger, Mike And The Mechanics,
Survivor, and anything else in Mitch Buchanan's CD floor tower. A swing to
the warning track, however, demonstrates Play Deep has a major-league
level of craftsmanship akin to other first stringers The Police and Big
Country. Besides their biggest base hit, "61 Seconds" speeds around Harbor
Park's first/second/third with lyrical legs which are either clever, corny,
or both: "61 seconds is all it takes/For the nine-to-five man/To be more
than one minute late." "Mystery Man" could be a tip of the ballcap to
Nawfook's own Walker family spy clan: "Got a letter from a mystery man/In
between the lines, he don't understand/He's on a mission in Mozambique/The
room is wired and he just can't speak." "All The Love" quotes a possible
portion of some pick-up line from a long-ago yarn spinnin' centerfielder at
the Heartbreak Cafe: "Time after time/I put my life on the line/But I ain't
committed no crime/So take what you can find/Forget what I say/Cause I keep
running away/I only live for today/Not one day behind." "Taking My Chances"
steals home with a courageous admission: "Then when you're lonely/Nobody to
turn to/You look in the mirror/And think that it's untrue/In your reflection
I usually see/The person you always wanted to be/But you never were/Because
you feared yourself/And in your deepest thoughts/You look for someone else."
"Say It Isn't So" has Mr. Coffee strongly conferring in the batter's box
with Mrs. Candle In The Wind: "I'll give you just one day to explain/I'd
like to know if there's somebody else in this game/Say it isn't so/Tell me
I'm the only one/Say it isn't so/Without you I can't go on." Judging by this
extensive scouting report, you might think that I regard Play Deep as one
of the finest one-through-nine-inning collections of WRV T-shirt rock
(H-dude Brad Nowell and Sublime ain't even on the ballot) in the record
books. You'd be correct in your analysis there, southpaw.