Alan- If I could include yours here I would...but the powers that run our forum will not let me.
If I have told this story before, try and stop me...
When I was a kid, I was kind of portly (crap- I still am, but I could care less now). I was the overweight GATE kid with "HUSKY" written across the rear end of his rockin' corduroy pants, and not exactly a hit with the ladies.
In 7th Grade, I fell for the cutest girl I had ever seen. She was abnormally tall (and I abnormally short), quiet, alarmingly skinny, gap in her front teeth you could floss with a beach towel, and to me, she was a goddess. She was also very strange...see, she had older siblings and they had turned her on to a band called the "Cure" that none of us had ever heard of, and they were pretty much all she ever talked about.
I decided that was my "in"- go seek out this "Cure"...might just be the cure for geek I was looking for, so I started listening to college radio (thank god). I saved every penny I could for what seemed like an eternity to go buy some vinyl, and it was hard earned. I got a penny for every two snails I eradicated in my dad's garden so I was the bringer of death for Helix aspera daily, for months, rain or shine, until I had the $9.99.
Off to Tower Records we went in August of 1985, and I picked up "Head On The Door". My little sister was in tow, telling me I could never listen to her records again (what, Debbie Gibson?) if I bought it, but I did not care. This purchase was for love dammit, and it was going to happen.
Being the first kid in 7th grade with the record made me no more cool (however, the Red Hot Chili Peppers record did increase my standing..and the Dead Kennedys, well...), but I found solace in it, as I played it over and over again lamenting the fact that I was not even going to get to dance with this girl at the dance (testosterone is a hell of a mind trip when it first kicks in). I wish I could report that the girl was instantly smitten, but no, she simply asked for a tape...though she did agree to be my friend and at least talk to me, a social sacrifice in itself.
By the end of the year, I was on to bigger and better things, like driving the adults in my life insane (thank you college radio-punk rock was my redeemer). I had a new found status among everyone at my school because not giving a toss about anything really seems to reel them in (like a car crash)... Somewhere out there there is an old tape of "Bay Area Backroads" where yours truly, complete with Robert Smith hair and make-up is talking about a Goya he painted on the wall of his school at the end of that 7th grade year.
Oh yes- and I love this record. I love it like I love breathing. thank you Alan for the trip down memory lane...and right back attcha.
TCK rule employed.