Because you had to be a big shot, didn't you
You had to open up your mouth
You had to be a big shot, didn't you
All your friends were so knocked out
You had to have the last word, last night
You know what everything's about
You and to have a white hot spotlight
You had to be a big shot last night
- Billy Joel
It was a glorious moment of liberation when I bought my first 45 vinyl record with my very own money. I was in the fourth grade in 1979 and felt like I was in high school. Ninety-nine cents of hard earned change. It was my change. Now it was my vinyl.
My record player was a self-encased player meant to play Disney themes and songs like “I Love Trash” sung by Sesame Street’s muppet, Oscar the Grouch. The plastic turntable sat by my bedside so I could listen before I fell off to sleep.
I was so proud when my mom said, “Let’s hear Corey’s new record” to my brother as we were playing in our room. Oh to hear that low growl of electric guitar intro. The mocking meanness of Joel’s voice rocked my soul. I closed my eyes and pictured myself on stage with the crowd entranced.
Maybe it was the message of a woman’s intoxicated escapades that would go unremembered that lifted the needle off the record. Or maybe it was Mr. Joel’s use of “don’t come bitchin’ to me” that caused my mom to cut my joy short. Either way, I found the record placed back in it’s paper envelope in the trashcan the next morning.
I wonder if she ever knew that I got it back out of the trash and sold it to my neighborhood friend for fifty cents?