Square, part 2.

So yesterday after work I did a bit of shopping for Bill's birthday (still in my suit). I stumbled into a record shop I had never been to in Dublin, Tower Records. Now, my father, being way more hip than I, has always insisted Tower is above and beyond the average high street multimedia emporium (I have never been able to tell the difference, not coming from the land of Tower Records). And indeed, I thought Virgin or someone similar took over Tower recently.
In any case, this Tower was obviously different, and far different from the HMVs and Virgins that dominate here, which make it pretty much impossible to acquire an album off the top 40.
So, Tower Records was all hip, with poorly groomed men too old for such appalling hygiene, listening to the Beach Boys and the Ramones. Also their John Mayer sidewall-thing had Nick Drake and Jeff Buckley albums lining the side, obviously assuming that one whiny guy is the same as any other (so not!). Although I certainly have tried same with my brothers, even going so far as to mold them to like music that I myself have never much cared for, but thought might make them a bit better if they listened to (i.e. oh you are listening to Blink 182, well, let's give the Sex Pistols a try).
In any case, I felt like such a freaking dork there, but also wondered at what point I started assuming that the record store clerks were probably not that cool after all. Probably when people I knew from high school started working in record shops and I realized that their haircuts were more important than their tastes in landing such a prestigious job.
Nevertheless, I felt like a massive tool, and that I had to buy something to restore my credibility. Thus, I wavered between looking for something very old, to show that I've got cred, and buying something brand new, to show that I'm hip to the scene. All this despite the fact that they didn't have the album I was looking for to begin with (this MIA album I keep hearing so much about--although I just read a review that totally lambasted it. Still, I would have liked to listen).
In any case, every time I remembered something else that I had vaguely wanted to buy, they didn't have it. At this point, I'd spent like 30 minutes there, aimlessly browsing and debating whether or not this was a cd that I would want to join my 30 or so trip CDs for the next 3 months, of which a few were major mistakes (Black Box Recorder, Momus, Princess Superstar), and I can hardly bear to listen to with the frequency having only a few albums in your possession demands.
Ultimately, I ended up leaving, walking 5 feet, coming up with a nice present for Bill, and decisively returning to the store and making my selection(something old, can't say until I give it to him, obviously). Then I saw something new that I wanted for myself--the new Smog album. Gave them both a little listen, made my purchase, and continued home.