Sitting shiny on the wooden shelves at home, are loads of plastic tubs. Inside they are full of sounds, rock music Dad calls it.
There is even Heavy Metal. These bands have long hair like me but greasy. They sing like a cat being run over and the doors dance when these ones are on. Dad is only allowed to play these when mum is out shopping. Same with the Punk ones. They wear leather outfits and chains, and have weird as hairdos. One is called the Sex Pistols – yuck.
I sometimes just sit just looking at the colourful covers. You can find dog people with human heads. Freaky. Lasers firing out of one-eyed walking bottoms. My little brother likes this one. A baby floating underwater getting money. Creepy. A nuddy motorbike rider blasting into space with a screaming giant bat. I even found one with a teacher on fire, playing a piano to the class. I wonder if Mrs Bamford likes this one.
The records inside are mostly black. But there are also pink ones, bright green with purple spots ones, and someone splattered it with rainbow paint ones. They all are like a skinny frisbee. But they don’t fly as good. I tried it out one day with one that Dad said sounded crap.
With some of the old records I block my nose when I take them out. Because they smell like Nana and Grandads house. You don’t touch the surface, as you might leave grubby finger marks.
Dad showed just me, how to play them on this marvellous machine. So he says. It has a needle like a sewing machine. But it can’t make clothes. The machine goes round and round. No that is not true. A plate thingy spins round with the record.
Anyway, when you put the needle down, carefully! Music comes out the speakers. Dad did explain how it all works, but I wanted to go on the X-Box so I can’t remember.
Let’s just say it is magic. Like Spotify. But sounds better. Well, that’s what dad reckons.
I looked for Tay Tay, Katy, the Bieb, and Ed. But Dad doesn’t have these. I think he is much too old.
He has ones like:
Rolling Stones. The singer looks like grandad but has a bigger mouth.
Led Zeppelin. Dad gets out his air guitar. Soo embarrassing.
Pink Floyd. I like them. Because they sing about no school.
Michael Jackson. He’s cool. But Dad is selling these ones.
AC-DC. I block my ears. The dude wears a school uniform.
Beatles. Nana says she has fond memories as a teenager listening to them and smiles all funny.
Bob Dylan. Gee he needs to blow his nose.
David Bowie. Dad was so sad when he recently died.
Kiss. They do more makeup than mum and wear Halloween costumes.
Elton John. I love his sparkly glasses.
And heaps heaps more.
My bestest song is Sweet Jane, as Jane is my middle name. Dad plays it for me and we turn it up real loud. When I buy my first record, I think I will get Metallica. Nah, just kidding, only bogans in loud cars listen to them.
Me and Dad went to Benee’s concert the other night. She is sic. She is famous on TikTok and writes her own songs. I want to be like her. I will buy her record.
go pūkeko 