Record Store Day

First - hi there. Its been awhile. Most of my blog buddies round these parts are athletes. I have not been athletic, so no posts. The bike thinks I've forgotten it. I've got to get something going. At this point its going to be like starting over.

Now to the subject at hand. Saturday was Record Store Day. Much like the Hallmark holidays, I think this was dreamed up by the Coalition of Independant Record Retailers to get folks into the record store. Downloading and on-line shopping in general has taken its toll on the traditional record store, just like everything else. I contend the record store will never die, same as the book store won't. I could be proved wrong, but I think they will be around for the forseeable future.

Anyways, record stores have always been a second home for me. I love music. I'm a little less involved these days, but I still enjoy the trip downtown. So, in celebration of a fake holiday, I will now honor the record stores of my life.

There were many, some I don't know the name. There was the hole in the wall in Franklin, VA where I would go and buy a 45 when staying with my grandparents. There was Harmony Hut, but I can't remember if that was the one in Regency Square, or the one that doubled as a headshop (not uncommon) on Parham. The mall store kind of blend together, even if I did get most of my records there when I was young.

The first proper record store for me was Peaches. I spent much time and money in Peaches. Peaches is where I got Van Halen 1 before anyone knew them. I got the Clash "London Calling" there as well. I'm sure I got a handful of Ramones records there as well. The hallmark of Peaches, however, was the cut out bin. That's where the stupid west end kid could find Patti Smith "Horses". All sorts of 999 records, Buzzcocks, Sham 69. All the British bands folks in the west end generally didn't know.

We now move on to college and Columbia, SC. School Kids was the regional chain in 5 points, along with the independant Papa Jazz. School Kids always had coupons in the college newspaper. I know I got Def Leppard High 'n Dry there. I'm actually sure I got much of my mainstream releases there. Then X Records opened. This would be the beginning of hanging out at a record store. Issue was that Ron had sporadic hours. When Amy started working there it was more consistant, but if she had class, it wasn't open. I had discovered "real" metal by now and X was the only place to get it. Imports, black gold, satanic metal. I bought much stuff there, including the 2nd pressing of REM's Radio Free Europe single that netted me $150 on ebay a few years ago.

Its hard to separate stories at this point, so take the leap of faith with me. The metal records disappeared from X and ended up at the college radio metal djs house. I distinctly remember being at his house buying some records and saying "you've got enough stuff here to open a store". He smiled.

Which brings us to Manifest Discs and Tapes. If I have a regret in life, its that I didn't stay in touch with Carl. I spent tons and tons of time at Manifest. I'd hang out and organize the records while Carl did other things. I loved that place. I spent much money there and Carl taught me much about music and business. I always admired him. I also worked record conventions with him, where I could acquire even more stuff. I really can't explain what this place meant to me. Heck, my last tattoo was of Einsturzende Neubauten's logo, a band Carl introduced me to.

When I left Columbia for Charleston, there was quite a void. There was a store there, but I can't recall the name. There was a punkish store up in North Charleston, but I never really felt right there. Eventually a friend told me he was going to open a record store and did I want to help out. And I did. Twisters was born. We started basic enough, but soon I convinced Paul we could sell alternative music. I called Carl and got his contact and off we went. Soon, I was Charleston's alt music guru. Ok, maybe that's a bit of an overstatement, but it felt that way. It was great.

It ended when I moved back to Richmond for a "real job". Plan 9 had been open for awhile. In fact, I had been shopping there since they opened. You know, when I was home for summer, spring break, whatever. I shopped at the laundramat location, the one further down Cary, the long lasting Bob's Hobby Shop location, and the current one. I went in the one they had on southside once, but I don't cross the river, so ......
Randy helped me out there. He loved Foetus as much as I, and was the one who convinced me to listen to Ministry's "the land of rape and honey". Randys gone, and I don't really know anyone there, so I don't get much advice. But I still like it. Even if the kids are 20 years younger than me, I still want the approval.

Part of shopping in a record store is the look you get from the clerk. You walk up with the latest Daughtry, you'll likely get the look of disdain. Walk up with Sonny Rollins, Nick Cave and Bullet for my Valentine, you might get a nod.

Nods are good. Online sucks. Long live the record store.