Now that the World Cup is over (sobs), let’s talk about one of my other loves: music. A favorite pastime of mine is to wander around in a record store. So last week, while waiting to pick up my family from a local clay studio, I had a few minutes to myself, and headed across the street to our closest shop, Thrillhouse Records.
While I was flipping through the racks, there was a band playing over the speakers that I’d never heard before. And they were great. They were fast and catchy, equal parts punk and melodic frenzy. I was hooked. But I had no idea who it was. And it took me back to my days in Tallahassee when I was working at an independent store and DJ-ing at the college station.
Back then, most of my days and a handful of my nights were blanketed with new sounds, both from bands that were just breaking out and obscure (to me) sounds I’d never been exposed to during my sheltered, suburban upbringing. Each new dawn provided an opportunity to fall in love with an artist I had no idea existed just the shift before. These were the days of finding out about indie labels and self-distributed tapes and a world of hip hop that was undiscovered for me. From Drive Like Jehu to Rassan Roland Kirk to Buzz•Oven to Freestyle Fellowship, this was, essentially, my musical Renaissance period.
Back at Thrillhouse, after flipping through all the 7"s and the rows of recently acquired used full-lengths, I finally headed to the counter, purchases at the ready (an original pressing of Spy vs. Spy and the new Archers of Loaf), and to find out who this amazing discovery they’d been paying was.
“You all set?” the clerk inquired.
“Almost; who is this?” I asked, pointing to the heavens and hoping he understood I wanted to know who they were playing.
“Oh, it’s friends of the guy who’s working after me. They’re from Israel, called Not on Tour.”
“Great, do you have it in stock?” I asked, hoping to add one more item to my purchases.
“No, sorry, they don’t have U.S. distributions yet.”
Well, shit. I was — and still am —very disappointed. But at the same time, I was giddy. It’s been a long while since I had that rush of discovery. Those moments are so rare now, as we cling to the streaming algorithms of our online-only music services. So, I wanted to take a moment tonight to praise record stores and independent radio stations. Because without the moments of serendipity that these institutions can bring, we’ll end up being stuck listening to the same bands over and over again, never venturing into anything new, and that’s not good for us. Or any upcoming band.
One reminder I used to end my radio show with every week is still as true now as it was back then: “Everyone’s favorite band was a local band somewhere once, so find a local band you love.” Tonight, I’ll add, “… and keep buying music.” We need to keep some joys alive.
She Likes Surprises
20 December 2022
A record of records.
Now that the World Cup is over (sobs), let’s talk about one of my other loves: music. A favorite pastime of mine is to wander around in a record store. So last week, while waiting to pick up my family from a local clay studio, I had a few minutes to myself, and headed across the street to our closest shop, Thrillhouse Records.
While I was flipping through the racks, there was a band playing over the speakers that I’d never heard before. And they were great. They were fast and catchy, equal parts punk and melodic frenzy. I was hooked. But I had no idea who it was. And it took me back to my days in Tallahassee when I was working at an independent store and DJ-ing at the college station.
Back then, most of my days and a handful of my nights were blanketed with new sounds, both from bands that were just breaking out and obscure (to me) sounds I’d never been exposed to during my sheltered, suburban upbringing. Each new dawn provided an opportunity to fall in love with an artist I had no idea existed just the shift before. These were the days of finding out about indie labels and self-distributed tapes and a world of hip hop that was undiscovered for me. From Drive Like Jehu to Rassan Roland Kirk to Buzz•Oven to Freestyle Fellowship, this was, essentially, my musical Renaissance period.
Back at Thrillhouse, after flipping through all the 7"s and the rows of recently acquired used full-lengths, I finally headed to the counter, purchases at the ready (an original pressing of Spy vs. Spy and the new Archers of Loaf), and to find out who this amazing discovery they’d been paying was.
“You all set?” the clerk inquired.
“Almost; who is this?” I asked, pointing to the heavens and hoping he understood I wanted to know who they were playing.
“Oh, it’s friends of the guy who’s working after me. They’re from Israel, called Not on Tour.”
“Great, do you have it in stock?” I asked, hoping to add one more item to my purchases.
“No, sorry, they don’t have U.S. distributions yet.”
Well, shit. I was — and still am —very disappointed. But at the same time, I was giddy. It’s been a long while since I had that rush of discovery. Those moments are so rare now, as we cling to the streaming algorithms of our online-only music services. So, I wanted to take a moment tonight to praise record stores and independent radio stations. Because without the moments of serendipity that these institutions can bring, we’ll end up being stuck listening to the same bands over and over again, never venturing into anything new, and that’s not good for us. Or any upcoming band.
One reminder I used to end my radio show with every week is still as true now as it was back then: “Everyone’s favorite band was a local band somewhere once, so find a local band you love.” Tonight, I’ll add, “… and keep buying music.” We need to keep some joys alive.
See you tomorrow?