Last week's Record Store Day got me thinking about my early record store experiences, back in the day where, if you wanted a record, you had to go to a record store.
I mean, I think Sears had some cassettes, but that was the only place other than a record store that I can remember finding music.
I can remember being of late-Middle School age when I started to discover music beyond the world of what my parents listened to. WBCN and such.
I remember knowing, and liking, Lou Reed's "Walk On The Wild Side."
I'm SURE I had no real understanding of what Lou was talking about. But damn that little bassline was catchy.
I know that I knew the song well enough from the radio, that hearing this live version was a part of a whole weird experience.
There was a record store in my town called Gilmore East, and, on all levels, it felt very mysterious to me.
First of all, it was in one of the newly renovated buildings on Inn Street, but it was one of those below ground stores.
I know those of you who lived in the City are accustomed to walking from the sidewalk, down an outside set of stairs, into a store. But for Newburyport in the early 80s, this was kind of novel. I mean, we lived at sea level. You didn't put anything in a basement that you wouldn't want to get wet. Certainly not your records.
Because it was below ground, I remember it being dark, poorly lit. I don't think it was actually smoky, but that's how I see it in my memory.
The stacks of records were built for, you know, adult height. I was a very small kid in Middle School, so just to see the records, I had to be on tip-toes.
I remember a section of rock and roll photography in one corner. Black and white framed photos of Jim Carroll and Lou Reed and Bruce Springsteen in action/in concert, with the same tiny, handwritten price tags that my Mom used on the stained glass she used at craft fairs.
And I remember they always had music on the stereo.
I say that and you think, of course they did, but you forget, that back in those days it was pretty uncommon to walk into a store and find them with a soundtrack blaring overhead. This was in the days where the only music feeds were MUZAK, and stores in the mall didn't yet have their own crafted personal market-researched soundtracks.
There wasn't just music on. It was foreign music. Not foreign, as in from another country. Foreign, as if from some distant planet. There was never anything playing that I might have previously heard on the radio. It was always some alien rock and roll, yet to be discovered by me.
I'd love to tell you that it was an exciting world that opened up for me. But truthfully, it was all a little scary at the time.
It was dark and smoky and underground and felt a little dangerous against my otherwise tepid sense of adventure.
I can remember hearing this live version on Lou Reed's "Walk On The Wild Side" in Gilmore East.
As I said, I knew the song well enough to sing along to the album version. And when the familiar baseline kicked in, I felt some kind of sense of comfort that there was something familiar in the room.
At this point in my life, I'd never been to a concert, and it never occurred to me that live songs could sound significantly different than their album counterparts. Or worse, that the artist could intentionally fuck with the tune.
On this track Lou keeps talking and talking and occasionally throwing in some actual lyrics.
But mostly, it felt like I was listening to an unhinged lunatic with a microphone and an audience.
I don't think Gilmore East lasted too many years. But eventually, I got taller, braver, more curious and developed an appreciation for unhinged lunatics with microphones.
Strangely, I don't think record stores ever lost their sense of mystery for me.
I still like to go, and to look. It's a little late for a "Record Store Day" plug/post, but I just wanted to say, I'm glad you're still around, actual-brick-and-mortar-dark-and-mysterious-Record-Stores.
Hear the song on Youtube. Note that it contains quite a bit of profanity.
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