“Crack Steppin’ - A Comic Operetta in Rhythm and Blues”
by Ron Milner

Back in October the family was driving back from Detroit for the amazing day of the local film premiere of “Gimme Danger” and the “Total Chaos” book event at TMR. I’m not sure if there will ever be a more Stooges day in Detroit history and there probably wasn’t one prior. Wow…good vibes.

Anyway, we were driving home, southbound on I-75 in Ohio. Now I’ve probably been on this particular stretch of road no less than 100 times. I know every exit inside and out...one of the few skills gained through a solid decade of touring that actually transfers well to family life.

But Malissa’s been hollering about some moccasin place for a couple years now. That she stopped there on the way down with a friend (a trip I wasn’t on) and she got a grip of Minnetonka moccasins that she lives for but never saw the place before or since.

I don’t believe her…especially when it comes to shoes.

So Mabel needs a diaper change, we get off an exit that I assume we’d been at a million times before.

Malissa shouts “Oh my God! This is it! The moccasin place!”

Damn it.

We get some perfunctory McDonald’s, change the diaper and then off to her precious moccasin endeavor.

Violet is straight up acting a punk. Throwing her chicken nuggets all over the back of the car, not eating, wanting to run around the freezing-ass parking lot in bumblefuck Ohio. Bummer times.

Seriously, it felt like Malissa was in there for 45 minutes. That is not cool, especially on a road trip where you’re trying to make good time.

I just kept coming back to the idea “It’s not like I would make her wait here if I found a big pile of records to go through. That would be disrespectful to my family.”

She finally comes back with a bunch of moccasins, happy as shit and then says “Oh yeah, they’ve got switchblades in there, you should go check it out.”

Well…if there’s knives involved I should at least take a look.

The spot is…so odd. They sell moccasins, old VHS tapes, tons of fireworks, just weird junk that appears fished out of thrift shop donation bins, deep fried food and for some reason, people keep on walking in and paying their rent.

It all had a vague meth vibe, which is probably how I’d describe a majority of rural interstate America at this point in history.

There weren’t any real switchblades and I can’t figure out whether I should be happy or disappointed that Malissa still doesn’t know how to spot ‘em.

As I’m about to exit the store, I notice a proper huge pile of records on a table. A couple hundred.

Shit.

So I start digging. It’s very clear very early that these things have not been picked. Just certain titles that any dealer/reseller would immediately vacuum up were present, 70s Stevie Wonder, clean Bruce Springsteen. Decent shit, just nothing I need.

“If I had enough time, I just KNOW I would find a really valuable record in here” I kept thinking to myself. But how much time can I really spend in here? What felt like 45 minutes in a moccasin covered waiting room to hell was probably only really 15 minutes.

Not two minutes after that thought, I look down and see even MORE records under the folding table. With zero effort “Crack Steppin” pops up, as if by divine intervention.

Sealed.

I know this one. Seemingly readily available via online marketplaces, it consistently commands a solid price, an average of around $150 on Discogs, but topping out around $300.

Plus, it’s from Detroit. Hell yeah.

I get “Crack Steppin” and two other forgettables for a total of $10.

The jam is alright. The title song “Crack Steppin’” is the kind of disco/funk/boogie that I can get into. Just the right amount of flavor to it. Not too clean or polished, danceable…if I feel so inclined.

The rest of the tracks…too syrupy, too precise, languorous arrangements just ain’t my thing. This is what I understand as “modern” soul. I do not like it.

I get back in the car, tell Malissa my inner thoughts about the time she took moccasin shopping and THEN explained to her I spent what I considered a commensurate amount of time record shopping AND found a really expensive record for cheap in the process and that I love her and everything happens for a reason.

“So are you gonna sell it?”

Oh hell no. This shit’s getting filed. MAYBE traded if someone’s got a solid offer, otherwise, these are the moments you live for.