Record stores will never die. Nor bazaars– spreading-out their offerings like a booth of tape-trader’s going back since ancient times and local economies.
And with record stores come teenagers.
Like a frenetic batch of reflexes, fight or flight or fuck– and milling around the bottom reaches of the service economy after something in the air, “a bit like excitement” and better than the mere liberty of boredom. Down there, the materialism like petty marijuana dealing and pettier-theft like street-rats sniffing after the rumor “of some golden hoard”.
Or maybe you just had to be young and frustrated and gullible and stupid– even “to ask”.
So it is, our local grunge-bin of buzz and dubious pursuit– Vintage Vinyl as one of the best personable used record-stores in The United States. You were a punk, or pirate, or hippie, or any random customer who came by way of “The Delmar Loop” on the edge of the ghetto like a little slice of New York City.
A human zoo as colorful and scattered as the flyers tacked-up on the plywood wall by the electric-doors– word-of-mouth, and a tribe called “quest”– rapping on bongo-drums and the snicket of Bic lighters like a snaky macarana-beat/happening poetry-kick. . . . . literature on the wharves and world-faring hello’s from San Francisco Bay to the Rock of Gibraltar to the sea of Japan. All the exotic restaurants and counterculture shops boded well for a developing area like street coinage and the groan of our tired old city.
For the jaded-eye, a hang-out no hipper. . . . . Lydia Deetz loves this place like second instinct as Beetlejuice 2 uses locations on sight, for sore eyes– around these cow-town parts as you’d have to be dead not to have heard of it.
And funny things, these clerks at record-stores somehow overhear. Referring you now to a funny article up in the blogosphere by “Dangerous Minds”. It takes all sorts to make a circus, as they duly took-down the funnier things to mention. Have a ball with these– and know it couldn’t have been “made-up”!!
And as a special bonus– some vintage punk-zine covers of interest to all goth-rockers and “Hello, Kitty” deth-heads. . . . .