I spent the afternoon doing gear check out for the film shoot that starts on a few days. I saw a few people from the “No Hair…” shoot from last year. The director only needs sound for three days, the rest of shoot is just photography.
I was there for a few hours and hit the gym for a decent work out. The road back to being in condition is long, hard and messes with my self esteem. I had to take a long break due to my shoulder injury. I can’t pinpoint exactly when I damaged my shoulder; it was most likely the result of years of abuse and the fact that I’m old as fuck.
Before heading out this morning, I watched a documentary currently on Netflix Instant watch, called “I Need that Record”. If you lament the slow death of the record store, this is required viewing. It profiles several independent records stores in different cities and follows the store closure and the impact it on their lives. In all cases, the one common thing is that all of the owners missed the daily interaction with their customers. They missed the community element. Commerce could have never been the goal of an indie record store owner; everyone that I’ve ever known who owned a record store has the same blues jam of struggle and hard times.
There was a personal element to the film for me because Trash American Style was featured. Malcolm and Kathy, the two owners are interviewed and appear prominently. It was trippy seeing the footage inside of the store from a few years ago, knowing that the store is gone now.
I remember the first time I went to Trash. It was the eighties and I was in high school just starting to ride that “new wave” of music, learning and discovering some of the most important music. It was a life-defining part of my life. My friend Jim, was into hardcore punk. He seemed to know about tons of bands; he had been to CBGB’s and seen bands like Cromags, Agnostic Front and a lot of the early hardcore bands. Later that year, Jim would also take me to see Adrenalin Overdose at the legendary d.i.y. space called The Anthrax.
Trash was in it’s original location in Brookfield, CT. I remember that first trip there vividly. “Lie” by Charles Manson was playing. I bought my first Black Flag record there, “Family Man.” I dug the record cover; that intense image of a regular guys who had just murdered his family and was pointing the handgun to his own head, steeling himself to pull the trigger.
The take away from the film was that you should never give up. Life is such a short ride and you should live it on your own terms, find out what makes you happy and do it as hard as you can.