For The Record- 19. July. 2025

Some thoughts on our love of making lists.

One of the worst things you can do to teenagers is sentence them to an opening shift on the weekend. Retail is bad enough, but doubly so at 6 or 7 a.m. There are no customers yet, but there are plenty of mall walkers. One of the best ways to make up for that is to have a coworker who likes to play death metal at full volume. Petty? Sure, but at least it kept our sweatsuit-clad friends at bay.

We worked in a record store and fancied ourselves as tastemakers—the preternaturally cool type we all think of when we think of “record store employee.” The person who had just the right album for you, who knew you so well that they had just the thing before you knew you needed it.

All that was true, except we worked for a chain (kinda uncool) in a shopping mall (decidedly uncool). And we weren't even on the best end of the place (not terrible). We were stuck in corporate America, but did what we could to make the best of a bad situation. One of the company's rules was that music always had to be playing. Of course, there was a list, but that didn't mean we followed it. It was an early lesson in malicious complicity.

I mean, why suffer through the 1000th spin of Four Non Blondes¹ when the Deicide CD is right there? 

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