(written in honor of Record Store Day - April 19, 2008)
"Independent record stores are a vital source of the ever-changing cool. They respond to the street faster than the chains can. They help us telegraph to each other what's "now" and what's not, what we should be telling our friends and neighbors about, and what's about to take off, or, no longer hot. Musical trends are confirmed at the local independent record store, by you and me... Why would we want to do away with all that?" – Joe Satriani
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It's no secret that ipods, itunes and (sometimes legal) music downloads are becoming the most popular way to get music in the 21st century. Personally I am a traditionalist who treasures my cd collection, buys new vinyl releases and still makes mix tapes.
The first vinyl LP that I held was the Beatles' "Rubber Soul".
One of my first memories of music is listening to Beatles and Monkees records on my little Rainbow Brite record player. I distinctly remember laying on the floor in my attic bedroom pouring over the photos and notes on the back of my mom's Rubber Soul LP during a thunderstorm one summer evening. I was probably ten or eleven and I was so captivated by the whole experience – the music, as well as the cardboard sleeve that I held in my little hands. I listened to that album over and over again that night. Soon I became so intrigued by album sleeves that I started to obsessively organize my parents' record collection spending hours just staring at the artwork and reading the names of musicians, strangers who would one day become some of my very best friends.
I admit that I didn't always treat them with the respect they were due, often opting to slip the vinyl discs back into the sleeves without the dust jacket or dropping the needle down without necessary care and patience. Once I even fell asleep with that little red and yellow plastic turntable nestled and spinning next to me in bed and woke in the morning horrified to find side three of the White Album with a one large scratch through all seven songs. I still keep it hidden from my father.
The first 45 record I bought was "Make Me Lose Control" by Eric Carmen.
My mother gave me boxes of 45s along with her metal stands from the sixties which I used to display my favorite 3.5 minute songs and keep them easily accessible. Picking which ones to listen to was a conscious effort that was either dependent on my mood or the demands of my imaginary listeners when I would turn the basement into a radio studio for WKID. I was the station's most popular deejay despite my frequent repetition of Graham Nash's "Military Madness" and tendency to play Yes' "Long Distance Runaround" 45 on 33 1/3 RPM. Sometimes my sister would play along and we'd do station identification and promo spots before spinning the next "requested" song which would probably be the pink labeled "Itchycoo Park" by the Small Faces or the blue-labeled "Band of Gold" by Freda Payne.
The first cassette tape I bought was Paul McCartney "All the Best".
Soon came the phase when I needed music to travel with me. I wouldn't go anywhere without headphones on and a box of cassettes in the back seat next to me. Even though my parents were probably listening to the same thing on the radio – I needed the music pumped directly into my ears. The small paper card in the plastic cassette box of my Paul McCartney tape which folded out into five panels with a caricature to accompany the writing and production credits of each song was precious to me. There was a photo of a grinning Paul and another pouting photo of Paul pulling his collar up like a Teddy Boy. Though I'd never admit to it – I fell in love with Paul first, before being charmed away by John's cheeky intelligence and later by George's kind and innocent heart. Although I haven't listened to that cassette in years it still remains displayed among the hundreds of cd's that now dominate my music collection. It has earned it's place there. I've thought about buying it on cd, but it just wouldn't be right. That tape means something very special to me and cannot be replaced.
I listened to cassettes all the way into college. Never settling for a portable cd player that might skip when I walk. That bulky rattling Walkman played Nada Surf's "Let Go" for seven months straight through my walks during class breaks and my afternoon naps in quiet CSU hallways. There was a certain consciousness to what I was doing when I listened to music that way – flipping the tape just as I would flip the records years earlier – like a sudden physical connection in the midst of a music induced trance. Click. Flip. Press play. Side two. The songs always in the order that they were meant to be played. I couldn't skip over the ones I didn't like without holding down the "FF" button and usually couldn't be troubled to do so. This meant listening to that song I didn't like - listening to it over and over again sandwiched in between my favorites – until I realized how amazing that one "bad" song really was. A certain reverence for music is shown in letting it play, a respect demanded by a song's very existence.
The first cd I owned was The Beatles' "Help".
It was given to me by my parents on my 13th birthday along with my very own stereo. I never wanted to leave my room ever again. The sound that came out this modest shelf model was loud and so different. I would save up allowances in $17 increments as I re-built my Beatles collection disc by shiny rainbow glittering disc. Carefully cutting apart and saving the long cardboard boxes that the cd's traveled home with me in as I listened to the digitally enhanced album again for the first time. I held on to the cardboard boxes as if each were a Lou Gehrig or Babe Ruth rookie card. The cd booklets provided even more sensory stimulation. It was disappointing when the compilation cd of hits from Peter and Gordon or Tommy James and the Shondells only came with a single sheet inlay card. Most frustrating was the single photo and song list in the "Best of the Hollies" cd that I begged my mom to buy at the grocery store check-out line. Thankfully these were only exceptions.
I was introduced to modern music in 1996 by a band called Superdrag whose singer idolized the Beatles. "Regretfully Yours" took the vinyl and analog, poured heart into it and pumped it full of raw energy and volume. Again, I was in love. With only a few blurry photos in a retro LP style layout, the single fold booklet that accompanied the disc warmed my lonely teenage heart as the faces of the Beatles had done years earlier. I felt like John Davis was my best friend and years later those photos of Superdrag would come to mean more to me than those of classmates in my high school yearbook.
That same year I fell in love with the lyrics of Duncan Sheik, the ones printed in the booklet of his self-titled album. Every night for months that gentle face on the front of the album sang me softly to sleep. Every word read over and over by lamplight then burned into my subconscious in the dark.
All of these memories so dear to me would have never happened if these songs were introduced to me via sterile 5000 song shuffling electronic device.
The first album I downloaded…
Where is the excitement in opening iTunes and entering your credit card number to download that one song you like? No chance for repeated exposure to a song that didn't quite smack you across the face the first time you heard it. I've resisted the mp3 format and must admit I have faltered at times in matters of convenience. I have a player that my parents bought me for Christmas, which was met with uncharacteristic half-hearted enthusiasm. It remained in the packaging for awhile and even today is only used once a month, if that frequently. I will download a song when I need instant gratification or am too embarrassed to ask for it at the record store. I do have a reputation to keep and the new Rihanna single or latest American Idol recording would leave me red-faced in front of puzzled clerks at the Record Den. They know me there, if they don't have it they want to get it for me. I've been to Best Buy directly across the street armed with a two page list of needed music to spend that gift certificate on only to leave empty-handed. "Can I help you?" asks the teenage sales associate under the buzz of fluorescent lights ready to point you to the correct alphabetical location for the music you want… and that is, if they carry the artist and title. Discounted prices disguising a flimsy façade of unlimited selection which is merely quantity of what's popular and disposable rather than a diverse stock of new music to discover and old music to build upon. And don't bother asking the kid for recommendations, as he'll most likely refer to an electronic database or a promotional display for further purchase suggestions.
I can go into the Record Den in Mentor and talk for an hour with the clerks. Brian will switch the music when I arrive, because he knows it sounds like something I might like. Vic always eager to order something they might not have in stock. They want me to buy something. It is a business. Yet there is a personal interest in what I buy and why I buy it, these people are driven to make me happy because they live, breathe and sleep music as I do. They might not personally like something that I bought today, but they understand that I love it and appreciate that. They don't sell to meet corporate goals. They sell to keep the doors open. If you spend the day there, they're likely to enjoy your company rather than monitor your actions by closed circuit cameras. Their loss prevention methods begin and end with a bell on the door, a friendly hello and basic trust. At Music Saves in Collinwood, Melanie knows me as the girl that loves Nada Surf, tracking down vinyl within a day's request and responding with genuine kindness in email AND in person. Having cherished memories in that store, as small as it is warm-hearted, makes Music Saves my other choice for music purchase patronage. Vinyl, the store cat, has more personality than WalMart, Target and Best Buy collectively.
This Saturday – April 19, 2008 - is Record Store Day. It is an effort to keep these independent music stores an integral part of our communities. I believe in the spirit of the record store and what it means to hold music in your hands, to discuss it, to learn, to teach and to share this love in the company of others. If there's music you've been thinking of buying, please put aside some cash from this week's paycheck and find your local independent record store. If you have nothing particular in mind, take that money and ask a clerk for suggestions. Chances are good that you won't be disappointed with the experience.
Please join us as we celebrate Record Store Day on Saturday - April 19th, 2008!
THE RECORD DEN
7661 Mentor Ave
Mentor, OH 44060
440.946.9909
Open till 9 on Saturday
MUSIC SAVES
15801 Waterloo Road
Cleveland, OH 44110
216.481.1875
http://www.MUSICSAVES.com
Hours: Noon to 11pm