Work Text:
Saturday was spent with my best friend, just like we used to all the way through secondary school. It had been years since we left school, but we were the same as we were back then. We hung around town, shopping and reminiscing about how ridiculous our school days were.
“What you dragging me into this shop for?” she complained as I grabbed her arm and led her into a record shop.
I loved old music, vinyls, she didn’t. “I need a new record, it’s been about a week since I bought one.” I told her.
“Hey, Mr Sifter.” I greeted the owner, it wasn’t his real name but that’s what we all called him.
He smiled back.
The shop was pretty quiet today, there was only two other customers in, it was a sad state of affairs but no one was interested in records anymore. No one wants to physically own anything anymore, especially not vinyl. They don’t know what they’re missing.
“You’re an addict.” she told me as I picked a box and started looking for something interesting. “It’s 2015, stop living in the past man!”
“I know and vinyl’s coming back now, they’ve done a chart for it.” I continued to flick through the records.
“How long do we have stay here?” she complained, she started to look at some of the sleeves, secretly enjoying it.
I could have spent the whole day there. I loved that it wasn’t lit by overpowering, fluorescent, electric lights. I loved that it was a little old shop ran by a man who’d owned it for years and years and was still as passionate as when he started. I loved the feeling that I wasn’t just buying a single or an album but I was buying a piece of history. HMV has nothing on Mr Sifter’s record.
“‘Til I find a record.” I told her selfishly. “Just remember all the times you’ve made me go clothes shopping.”
“Well what are you after?” she asked, deciding to help me look. “Let me guess, Oasis, Stone Roses, Pulp, anything from before we were born, right?”
“Most of what’s in here is from before we were born.” I pointed out but of course she was right in the kind of music I was looking for.
A man walked into the shop and brushed past us before searching through a box nearby. I glanced at him, he had his back to us but he was a blue jeans and impressive dark leather jacket wearing man, he looked pretty cool.
“What about this?” she showed me Blur’s first album Leisure. “I know you ant got it.”
“Cos it’s crap, I listened on Youtube.” I shook my head. “And what kind of Oasis fan would I be if I had a Blur album in my collection… my Definitely Maybe will melt it.”
“Alright.” she tutted, she didn’t get how I’d bought into the “rivalry” about fifteen years after it was over. “No more Blur suggestions.” She put it back and kept looking.
We fell silent, focusing on our search or we would've if she wasn’t such a chatterbox.
“Sorry you didn’t get tickets for Noel’s High Flying Pixies the other day.” she knew it was Birds but Pixies was a Russell Brand show reference.
“I’m gutted, I was on the pre-sale and the general sale but no luck.” I sighed. “I really, really needed to go to that gig, to make up for Oasis not announcing their tour yet.”
She shook her head at me. “The news is never going to come, it’s not going to happen and you already saw him this year.”
“It’s not enough, man.” I told her, deadly serious. “He’s just a godlike genius and I don’t care how wrecked Liam’s voice is, I NEED to see them on stage together.”
It was an amazing night, I didn’t care how ridiculously far away from him I was in the arena, it felt like I was right there with him, it felt like I’d met him. It was an amazing night and I was determined to go again but his massive fan base made it pretty difficult to get a hold of tickets.
She didn’t live in Oasis fandom fantasy land like I did. “The only way you’ll see them live is same as Queen and the Beatles and that lot. Timetravel.”
“Don’t make me go Whovian on you.” I warned. “I have all of Oasis’ original vinyls, that’s gotta count for something, right?”
She shrugged “Sorry but it doesn’t count for shite. It ain't going to unite those waring brothers… You’ve seen them play Glastonbury and any concert you can get hold of on Youtube anyway.”
“But they’re alive, while they’re still breathing it can happen.” I spoke with blind optimism as I always did when it came to Oasis. “Just one gig will do me.”
“Don’t hold your breath.” She quickly retorted.
“Ah look at this. I seen these on a program the other day. Cabaret Voltaire ” I showed her the album sleeve. “Think this is their debut.”
She didn’t get my excitement. “Just looks like a old dodgy tv screen to me.” She wasn’t impressed. “Bet that’s some of your weird 80’s stuff, ain’t it?”
“It’s the sound, not the artwork.” I tried to explain but the words failed me. “I bet the sound laid into that vinyl is complete ear porn.”
“You say that about load of songs, er, basically the whole of Chasing Yesterday, er, Leave My Guitar Alone, every bloody time you listen “That’s ear porn, that is”.” She mocked me.
Both Mr Sifter and the leather jacket wearing man chuckled at us.
“That was a complete music revolution when that came out in 1979.” Mr Sifter spoke up and the leather jacket man made a noise of agreement.
“Yeah, so don’t dis.” I grinned, nudging her.
“Sorry…” she said quietly, she wasn’t sorry. “Are you having it?”
“Hmm, I still don’t know. I haven’t listened on…”
She put her hand up to stop me talking and held the top of a record with the other. “You’ve got this on CD, d’you want it on vinyl?”
“Course I do, what is it?” I said, getting excited.
I tried to think through my CD collection to guess what she’d found. I had a lot of CDs I’d amassed over the years. “Come on, tell me.” I demanded impatiently.
She slowly pulled up the yellow sleeve, the writing gave it away much quicker than she’d like but it was so iconic of course I knew what it was and of course I wanted it.
“Never Mind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols!” I exclaimed at lightning speed before throwing my arms around her. “Aww I love you.”
“Alright, it’s just an album.” she said apathetically.
I heard a collective gasp of everyone in the room including myself. No way was this one ever “just an album”
“That’s hurtful, d’you know that?” I told her as I examined the sleeve back and front.
I carefully took the vinyl out without touching anything but the label. “Just look at that and tell me you don’t feel the magic.” I enthused.
She avoided pointing out it was a circle of plastic, probably in fear that the shop floor would crack open and swallow her if she did. “Hurry up and pay for it so you can march me home and stick it on.” She knew me too well.
I gently dropped the record back in its sleeve.
The man in the leather jacket reached over and took the record from me, studying it for himself.
“What you doing, mate?! That’s mine.” I confronted him, staring him out, sounding as aggressive as I could, he wasn’t nicking this one off me.
He had thick black sunglasses covering his eyes so I couldn’t actually stare him out but I still tried. I no longer thought he was cool, he was a weirdo (it was way too dark in here for sunglasses, no sane person would have them on now) and he was a thief.
“You try to do something nice and what d’you get?” he said to himself.
He got his wallet out and passed some cash and the record to Mr Sifter.
“It’s MY record, WE found it, not you.” I told him in the same aggressive tone.
He got the record back in a bag, he shoved his wallet in his pocket and then passed the bag to me. “You’re welcome.”
“Thanks.” I didn’t get why a random stranger would do that. “Creep.” I added under my breath.
We left, my best friend grabbed my hand and forced me to leave the shop and she drove us home.
…
I set up my record player and Holiday in the Sun started playing. We sat and listened as she paid closer attention to the sleeve.
“Do these things usually come with gig tickets?” she asked.
“The previous owner must have left them in my mistake.” I suggested.
She passed them to me.
I inspected the two tickets, they looked completely genuine. They were the 2016 tour tickets I’d missed out on a few days ago.
There was a note scribbled on the back of a receipt. “Oasis have been and gone, I won’t be on stage with Our Kid any time soon but my High Flying Birds are going strong. Since my singing is so orgasmic, you need these tickets. NG x” I read it out loud. “Shitting hell, I called Noel Gallagher a creep!”
I jumped to my feet. “We have to get back to that record shop, right NOW!”
I was a complete and utter idiot. How could I have not recognised the Chief? Everything about him screamed it was Noel stood right there, he was my musical hero and I had no idea. I had to go back and speak to him properly.
Suddenly felt like I was a having a heart attack and I jumped at the sound of an alarm. I opened my eyes to see my bedroom, I was tucked up in bed.
I grabbed my phone and turned the alarm off. It was 8:50 on Friday the 23rd of October. The dream was wrong, I hadn’t missed out on tickets, not yet, there was still the general sale.
I got on my laptop as fast as it would load and got on the website.
I grabbed my bank card and tapped it against my desk as I watched the digital clock on my laptop tick towards 9:00. My heart beat faster as it got closer and closer to the sale opening, because I needed to be pumped full of adrenaline for this.
There it was, the buy ticket button was active. Minutes later I had my ticket confirmation email came through. I could not wait for April 2016.