Madames et Monsieurs, Gilles Le Tarte!

Over 20 years ago, those words introduced me to the world of fruity record collecting. Browsing the bins at a Toronto record store, I stumbled upon Mr. Gin Gin. I believe Mr. Gin Gin was waiting for me. After all, I was just there to scope out the old standbys — Rush/Zep/Floyd, but here was Mr. Gin Gin staring me in the face, daring me, nay challenging me to take him home.

I asked the clerk the price. He took a look at the record, took a look at me, and said I could have it for free. Yes, the first one is always free. Mister Gin Gin has been the source of a few domestic disturbances over the years, but I forgive him, even if he is just a drunken ripoff of the Laughing Policeman.

So now I’ve got 20-year’s worth of fruity records stashed away. At some point, normal records just weren’t fun anymore. After all, everyone my age has a dusty copy of Pyromania stashed in their parents’ basement, but how many people have a copy of We Believe in Toledo? I’ve got a brand new USB turntable, a scanner, and a hankerin’ to post some records.

Mr. Gin Gin is waiting for you to click play:

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