I Miss My Record Store Days
See you next week, midwest
On a recent trip to London, I spent an afternoon in my friend Natalie’s record shop, World of Echo. It’s a cozy store where my friend Robby and I took up a lot of space catching up with Natalie at the front counter. When another friend dropped by, Natalie told him about some exciting bands coming out of Gothenburg, and he bought one of their albums. Then the owner of the nearby metal record shop dropped in, and the store began to feel crowded as the five of us shared stories about David Lee Roth, ‘90s New York City, and the best black metal record label in China.
As customers came and went, we shared brief interactions about their purchases, or our feelings about the Queen—who was rumored to have passed away that day. Every customer had to maneuver around us to get to the register. When Natalie apologized to one customer on our behalf, I blurted out, “Don’t apologize, your customers are getting the full record store experience!” I was kind of kidding, but I was also kind of serious. A group of people from different backgrounds crowding a record store counter and talking about music is the dream, and it made me miss that period of my life.
A few weeks earlier, I did a book launch event at Vinyl Junkies Record Shack in San Diego. Afterwards, I bar-hopped around the neighborhood with Heather, the owner, who knew—and was known by—everyone. At one bar, Heather’s drink was ready before she even ordered. You might wonder why this person who sells records is such a neighborhood celebrity. The answer is: Because she’s an important part of her community. Sure, people buy records from Heather, but they also talk with her about music, and the things they share in common as neighborhood residents and store proprietors. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn that when the bartender’s favorite artist releases a new album, it’s waiting for them behind the counter at Vinyl Junkies.
Twenty-five years ago this week, my friend Jason and I opened our own record store, Sonic Boom records in Seattle. We owned it for 19 years—until we sold the store to a customer in 2016. I was fortunate enough to spend a couple of hours at Sonic Boom recently, and I’m happy to report that although there are some new employees and the ratio of LP to CD has shifted considerably, the store feels and smells the same; the racks are made of the same kind of wood that we used for the original models; the flashes of orange and blue still exist for no other reason than… those were the colors a couple of guys in our twenties chose. I still gravitated naturally toward the familiar doorway when the store started to feel just a bit too warm.
I miss my record store days, and the sense of community with the customers and the neighborhood residents. Independent record stores are alive and well. I recommend you visit one this weekend and talk to the owner if you can. If you’re lucky, you’ll have to chat your way through a few entitled loiterers to get to them.
While in London, I was a guest on BBC 4’s Saturday Morning Live. The full program is a 90 minute conversation with me, an Italian physicist, an aspiring pole dancer, and a Ukrainian chef talking about science, our preferred comfort foods, and of course, our own stories. I’m on around 1:14:00. Above is a picture of the microphone screen they let me keep as a souvenir.
My book tour continues next week in Lawrence, Iowa City and Champaign. You can always find more info here.
My memoir My Life in the Sunshine is out now. I’d love it if you picked up a copy at your local independent bookstore. It’s also available at all the big places, and for your Kindle as well. There’s an audiobook that I spent 20 hours of my life reading (it’ll only take 7 hours to listen).
I hope to see you this fall.
Nabil Ayers / Brooklyn