by Mirza

I like a pleasant little surprise from time to time. It doesn’t happen often these days but it’s all the sweeter for it, especially when it invloves one of your favourite things. This is about music.

Saturday just gone I went to town to commence my weekly raid in the record stores. I went with no list in hand and nothing already picked out, but simply to browse and purchase whatever record I felt like getting.

First stop was a small independent shop, one of those obscure ones that’s only open about two days a week and located above an antique store. It’s the best in town and we remain steadfast companions. It is absolutely cluttered with cheap and classic punk, rock and metal and since I was on my own it meant that I could spend as much time as I wanted in there.

Usually whoever I am with at the time finds this pursuit about as pleasuring as french-kissing Roberto Benigni but it wouldn’t matter now.
I found a few good bargains but this one record was an absolute fluke. The name sounded similar to a punk band from a rural Mid-Western town that I used to listen to a few years ago and it cost less then a bottle of Steel Reserve so I had to buy it.

The record sounded nothing like the band I remember. I realised it wasn’t even the right one. Loud, dissonant but melancholic pop emanated from the speakers instead and it was brilliant, after the initial confusion. A true gem.

I can’t even remember the name of band that I first thought it was but it matters not a jot. I hope to get more of these surprises again.