Saturday, November 28, 2009
LIVE RECORD SHOP REPORT 15.33 (DJALMA CORREA - BAIAFRO)
I just used Babelfish (an online translation application) to explain to a customer that I would not be buying his records because I was only looking after the shop. Truth be known, had he not already come from the record shop next door who had refused them I might have had a look, but if they had turned them down then, wow, they were shit.
In the time lapsed I have hidden from one customer - a guy from work, not because my temporary second job might be viewed as a conflict of interests but rather because I am an anti-social shit who makes uneccesarily heavy work of occaional pleasantries. At times I am utterly incapable of even a 'Hi how are you', I mean, yes I can say the words, but can I do it without sounding insincerre, without sweating, looking awkward? That's a negatory.
Currently, get this, there is a couple listening to an as of yet unidentified Brasilian CD and who knows god willing they might just buy it.
Who is Djalma Correa? I am fucked if I know. I like this though, it is I imagine the type of thing that might have appealed to Current 93's David Tibet (or whatever he is currently calling himself) abstract world music made on skwawking birdlike instruments accompanied by uneven spiralling drums and what sounds like an old fashioned car horn.
More customers! Okay 15.44 and I am almost over-run, four at once. Still no purchases but confidence is high. The Jazz section is being explored from either end as yet another nameless Brasilian music CD is put through the paces. Fuck, spoke too soon, back down to two customers, and just as I was about to take a covert picture with my phone to illustrate thngs.
GOOOOOOAAAAALLLLL! Fucking yes! 2 CDs sold and 18Euros... count 'em, in the till. Suddenly my confidence is high, maybe I can turn things around? Get some real money in the till, become a retail winner! I have just under 2 hours to do this.
Behind me Djalma Correa has just finished howling like a dog. Safe to say I have identified record purchase number two of the day.
What sounds like an army of electric kazzo's with added tribal shouting and flute just sealed the deal.
I am now left with one lone customer, he looks fluid, respectable and is doubtless a prospective purchaser. Shit, maybe it was the dentists drill and recorder ensemble that scared him off?