I think (hopefully) that it is almost a cliché to reiterate just how important record stores remain, even with many commercial transactions shifting to the internet. For many of the writers on this site, our music taste evolved as a result of regularly going to record shops, looking around, trying to find that release you heard about online or from friends, talking with the clerks, and maybe even buying something based on their recommendations. It is, again, another cliché to note that there is a distinct nostalgia for physical cultural products today, or at least an understanding that digital media cannot totally supersede these formats. Finally, in the end, nothing can really surpass the simple pleasure of looking through piles of records and coming home to play your new purchases.
With all of that in mind, we are kicking off a short series in anticipation of Record Store Day, which will be this coming Saturday, April 20th. It is ultimately our goal to write these not as eulogies for a passing format and model (because that simply is not the case) but a celebration of something we see as remaining vital and necessary, even with the internet and the explosion of digitally distributed music. Record stores thankfully endure despite their thinning numbers. Consider this buffaBLOG’s yearly reminder that your local record store is still a great place for buying, selling, and learning about new music as well as the classics you didn’t know existed.
Over the years, Buffalo has seen some great record stores come and go. While I miss Home of the Hits and New World Records , there is still Record Theater, Spiral Scratch, and a host of smaller shops specializing in used records scattered throughout WNY. With so many places, I am actually having some trouble trying to pin down a specific memory to speak to all of the others. However, in a strange way, one stands out as being emblematic of the particular community that can only arise in record stores.
The Summer of 2003, directly following my freshman year of college, was one of constant discovery, filled with new books, new movies and new music. Much of it was not actually new thoughn, but it was new to me. One particularly warm day in July, I was bored and decided to New World Records on Elmwood to add to my then nascent vinyl collection. On the recommendation of a friend, I purchased Big Black's seminal LP, Songs About Fucking. The proto industrial classic, featuring songs like "Columbian Necktie," and, in my opinion, the best version of Kraftwerk's "The Model," had a rather distinct cover...it looked like this:
So, I was not particularly surprised when, while in line at the adjacent Spot Coffee, I was being eyed by a father accompanying what looked like his little league team. I was rather nervous that I was about to offend this man and be yelled at for carrying around this record in public. It was then that he said one of the the most surprising things I have ever heard, "Big Black...that is a great album man." I agreed and we briefly discussed my excitement about taking it home.
I think this story points to something great about record stores, the opportunity for community, for sharing your passion for bands and albums with other people, especially when it is most unexpected. Whether it be the clerks recommending you something based on your taste or being as excited about your purchase as you are. There is the serendipitous opportunity to grab something on a whim or because it happens to be near the record you came for and then coming home to learn you found something great. Finally, there is the pleasant conversation with a stranger over a shared favorite record at the adjacent coffee shop. It is nearly impossible to duplicate these experiences online.
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