1977’s Record City opens with a montage of rear-focused close-ups of women wearing short shorts and that pretty much tells you all that you really need to know about the film.  It’s crass, shameless, and very much a product of its time.

The film takes place over the course of one day at a California vinyl record shop.  It’s tempting to compare the film to something like Empire Records but, unlike Empire Records, Record City suggests that working in a record store is perhaps the worst thing that could ever happen to anyone.  The store is dirty and grimy.  The customers are rude and played by vaguely familiar comedy actors, all of whom seem to have been bitten by the overacting bug before stepping in front of the camera.  The employees all seem to hate each other.  Marty (Tim Thomerson) keeps getting slapped and kicked by Vivian (Deborah White).  Vivian keeps getting groped by almost every customer and employee who walks by her.  The only thing that Vivian hates more than men is other women.  The store’s owner (Jack Carter) is in trouble with the mob.  The store’s manager (Michael Callan) is lech who wears gold chains, keeps his shirt unbuttoned, and who expects the new cashier, Lorraine (Wendy Schaal), to sleep with him because, after all, he did hire her.  Danny (Dennis Bowen) is the shy guy with a crush on Lorraine.  Rupert (Stuart Goetz) is the nerdy virgin who goes from wearing a bowtie to dressing like a swinger but he still can’t get laid.  Both the customers and the employees are paranoid about “fairies” coming into Record City.  Pokey (Ed Begley, Jr.) wants to hold the place up and who can blame him?  Really, the only likable employee is a black man known only as The Wiz and that’s just because he’s played by Ted Lange.  (Yes, Isaac the Bartender from The Love Boat.)  Lange gets to perform a song at the end of the film.

When the film isn’t focused on the antics inside Record City, it’s all about the talent show that’s taking place in a nearby parking lot.  The talent show is hosted by radio DJ Gordon Kong (Rick Dees) and it gives the film an excuse to trot out a bunch of cameos, some of whom are more recognizable than others.  For instance, Gallagher — the comedian with the sledgehammer — shows up.  Kinky Friedman also shows up, playing himself and looking for records at Record City.  When he spots a woman with a blonde bowl cut and glasses, he accuses her of being John Denver and then grabs her breasts.  And to think — less  than 30 years later, Kinky Friedman would run for governor of my homestate.

Anyway, this is a terrible and rather boring movie but I did find it interesting for one reason.  It’s the reason why I find so many grindhouse films to be interesting.  Shot on location and for no other reason than to make money, Record City is a true product of its time.  There’s no attempt to try to make the 70s look nicer than they were.  There’s no attempt to try to make the record store look like anything more than a tacky establishment.  There’s an honesty to how low-rent the whole thing is.  Watching the movie is like stepping into a time machine and getting a chance to experience the past firsthand.  I was born long after the 70s but, after watching this film, I now feel like I’ve been there.