I do remember who told me about the singer and the album even though a new generation has come into being since that day. The album title...I didn’t know what the heck it meant. The only time I’d ever come across one of the words was while reading Marvel’s Dr. Strange...and I wasn’t a big fan of that comic..too surreal for me. So, I wasn’t really inclined to act on the suggestion of Wild Eyed Fred...
I remember where I bought the album/vinyl/ 33 1/3 rpm phonograph record--Leisure Landing, THE record store right outside the North Gates of LSU on West Chimes Street in Baton Rouge, La. Some of the folks who worked there also played in a band called, “The Shitdogs,” but despite that affiliation, they were an affable lot...knew a LOT about music and were more than willing to help a music newbie out in the “I want to check something new out, whatcha got?” department.
So there I was on a Friday afternoon, talking to a guy I had privately nicknamed, “Wild Eye Fred,” on account of his lazy eye. He was borderline rotund with tight, curly long hair that he parted down the middle. Must have been about 5’6” or 5’7” and usually wore a short sleeve T with something provocative printed on the front. Fred looked like he had just rolled out of bed and his hygiene...let’s just say his breath was not sweet and leave it at that. Anyway...I told WEF that I wasn’t into the late 70s early 80s stuff that passed for pop music on many Baton Rouge radio stations. It was pap music from the likes of Survivor (yeah at LSU we heard, “Eye of the Tiger” a hell of a lot) and a thousand bands playing Disco. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve since embraced Disco and do occasionally allow the Inner Rhythm King to make his presence known when I’m waiting for the dogs to “get busy” in the dog run at 10 o’clock at night. But at the time, I was not so enlightened.
Fred and I stood next to the M section in the store. I droned on about my likes and dislikes of contemporary Pop while he nodded, rummaged around in the section and thumbed through the records (the original multi-tasker was Fred). He came upon an album and said, “Hey man, you might want to check this guy out,” and handed me the LP.
I looked at the album art and was not impressed. Yeah, the font was sort of cool, but the guy in the picture didn’t have the typical rock/pop star mien, Also, his name....it wasn’t that memorable and there was already a dude back in the 60s that had a similar last name, and while I liked that singer’s group, I wanted something I had not yet heard.
I checked out the song titles on the back of the album and noticed one thing right off the bat...many of the songs were pretty damn long...7 -9 minutes. I began feeling a little queasy about spending the “textbook” dollars my dad had given me on a “concept” record -- not because I thought it a crumby thing to do with those educational dollars...buy a record. No, I had already done the mental calculus and figured that I was either going to have to give the sad goodbye to the big drunk I had planned for later that evening or skip a meal on Saturday since I had already spent most of my weekend meal money, and it was only Friday afternoon.
Bummer.
But hey, I would work on that dilemma later, because I noticed Wild Eye Fred’s good eye was starting to twitch, which to me meant that either he wanted to go on break because he was seriously Jonesing for a cigarette, or he had to take a shit.
I reviewed the situation:
• I realized that he was waiting on me to make a decision about the album
• I did not wish to keep him in suspense any longer because,
• I was not interested in learning if he needed a cigarette or needed to take a shit
And that’s how I came to buy Astral Weeks by Van Morrison.
Next Month’s Post: Afterwards (the rest of the story…)
