When I was a teenager there was nothing better than getting lost for hours, wholly-consumed in music, while in a record store. My friends and I loved music. Whether hunting for hard-to-find obscure metal in little Minneapolis shops like Root Cellar or Nightfall Records, or album listening binges at Cheapo. We were serious about music. In contrast to the way we purchase and consume music now days, well, things were very different 10-15 years ago. You didn't have the luxury of hopping online and googling for albums to download. You couldn't purchase music online. You had to truly hunt for physical albums you were interested in, at least the stuff my friends and I were after. We would receive mail order catalogs from record labels like Century Media or Nuclear Blast and that would wet our appetites. We didn't have credit cards. Hell, some of us didn't have jobs or a bank account. To purchase and find new music was an intimate experience. It was serious business and we loved nothing more. You had your favorite shops, your favorite in-the-know shop owners or employees and various other sources for keeping up on the latest underground band/artist. We were obsessed with finding new bands and artists.
Today I don't get lost in record stores as often. I still listen to and discover new artists on an almost daily basis, but largely, by different means. I probably listen to music more than ever before, and definitely have far more diverse taste than I did 15 years ago. The means by which one attains music has changed. Some intimacy has been lost. Some of these sentiments of loss have changed drastically for me over the past few years. I have reignited my passion for vinyl and now am happy to say I get lost again. The thrill of the hunt is on once again. As the rise of internet downloads has increased and CD sales have dwindled, vinyl has an audience.
Recently I've been frequenting a record shop by my house called Hymie's Vintage Records. The owner, Dave, couldn't be a nicer guy. He's happy to bullshit about hard-to-find jazz records, recommend music or talk about his Boston Terrier named Irene. It's always been mom-and-pop shops like Hymie's that I find solace in. He has aided me in ordering the Tom Waits, John Coltrane & Nina Simone albums I've always wanted to own on vinyl. I once again get lost in record shops, and find myself rushing home to drop the needle on the newest eargasmic bliss.
In our ever-growing, fast-changing, instantly-consumable, fast-food world, it's nice to take the long road once in a while. It's peaceful, even therapeutic. It's intimate. I wouldn't have it any other way. Here's to vinyl.