Nostalgia: (n.) a sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time.
Tomorrow, Monday, November 30th is Cyber Monday. It’s the online equivalent of Black Friday, the Monday following Thanksgiving when people return to work and shop online and take advantage of deep discounts and promotions. In late November 2005, The New York Times reported: “The name Cyber Monday grew out of the observation that millions of otherwise productive working Americans, fresh off a Thanksgiving weekend of window shopping, were returning to high-speed Internet connections at work Monday and buying what they liked.”
All Things Must Pass
Earlier in the month with my film-going friend Julie, I saw All Things Must Pass, the story of the meteoric rise and fall of Tower Records, the brick and mortar record store founded by Russell Solomon in Sacramento, California on Watt Ave. in 1960. The retail record store was named by Solomon after his father’s drugstore, which shared a building and name with the Tower Theater. Tower Records grew from a single store to a worldwide phenomenon, including bookstores, and internet site, Tower.com.
It was managed and staffed my music aficionados, who knew a lot about music and learned the business along the way. Tower Records, after unprecedented success expanding in New York City and Japan, plus stores throughout California, Portland, Oregon, Seattle and Nashville, experienced music-sharing threats from Napster and consumers downloading singles online rather than buying whole albums or CDs. Later following reorganization, a change in leadership, liquidation of assets and selling off its Asian stores, Tower Records went bankrupt in 2006.
Before its demise, the Los Angeles store on Sunset Boulevard hosted bestselling recording artists like Elton John and Bruce Springsteen who when visiting their record companies made a pilgrimage to Tower Records to check on how their music was selling and more importantly to explore the comprehensive and wide-ranging musical genres and talk with store staff to learn about emerging artists and trending music.
What made Tower Records so successful was the knowledge and passion of its music-loving staff and the visionary leadership of Russell Solomon. See this film, a love letter to Tower Records by director Colin Hanks and homage to brick and mortar stores.
Brick & Mortar: Third Place
After seeing the film, I began to wax sentimental about the brick and mortar stores from my past in my hometown in Racine and chosen home in Madison, Wisconsin. Like many others of my generation, members of the baby boomers who began listening and buying music in the 1960s, record stores were a Third Place. From Wikipedia, a Third Place is described as “…social surroundings separate from the two usual social environments of home (“first place”) and the workplace (“second place”). Examples of third places would be environments such as cafes, clubs or parks. In his influential book The Great Good Place, Ray Oldenburg (1989, 1991) argues that third places are important for civil society, democracy, civic engagement, and establishing feelings of a sense of place.”
For me, Third Places were record and independent bookstores, and later video stores. What defined these community spaces was the shared affinity of its customers and store staff for the artistic offerings, whether music, books, or films.
My first 45 R.P.M. record purchase at 13-years -old in 1963 was the Beach Boys, Be True to Your School, with the B-side, In My Room. Shortly afterwards in January, 1964 I heard the Beatles for the first time, I Want to Hold Your Hand, and like millions of other young fans, I became infatuated with John, Paul, George and Ringo and fell in love with their music and subsequently with its pop, soul and rock ‘n roll roots. I purchased my first 33 R.P.M. album, Meet The Beatles. Later that year I went to my first rock concert in Milwaukee to see The Beatles. My musical taste evolved from the Beach Boys, to The Beatles, Bob Dylan and the Byrds, as I expanded my repertoire, listening to folk and protest music, soul, jazz, rhythm and blues, comedy records and classical music. To read more: Beach Boys, The Beatles, Bob Dylan & The Byrds.
It was my friend Norm who worked at the record shop on Main Street in Racine, Wisconsin in the late 1960s and early 1970s that turned me on to music I most likely would not have discovered on my own. Comedy albums by Woody Allen (before he was a filmmaker) and the emerging black comedian, an athlete from Temple University, Bill Cosby, Bob Newhart and the stoner comedy ensemble, Firesign Theater.
Norm would spin a record on the turntable and say something to the effect of “You gotta hear this; it will blow your mind.”
He introduced me to It’s Beautiful Day and the iconic song, White Bird, Van Dyke Parks seminal debut album, Song Cycle, and the United States of America early electronic and synthesizer music featuring vocals by Dorothy Moskowitz, and if my memory serves me, Minnie Ripperton.
Building an album collection was critical to our culture (and reputation) as hippies and young political activists and the music a backdrop to our lives. When rolling a joint, we often used an album cover for a flat hard surface, then we’d choose a series of albums to listen to. Friends would check out your albums and make an assessment of your character, politics and degree of hipness.
When I moved to Madison in 1974, State Street had an abundance of record and independent bookstores. For music you could choose from Victor Music, Lake Street Station, Discount Records, and years later The Exclusive Company and more. Charles Lunde was the resident classic music expert who worked at a number of the stores over the years, and had an encyclopedic knowledge of many genres, but especially classical. Independent bookstores carrying both used and new books included, Paul’s Bookstore, Brown’s and Mosley’s, and later Rainbow Bookstore Cooperative, Avol’s and Shakespeare Books, and of course my go-to Third Place, A Room of One’s Own Feminist Bookstore, gratefully still operating in a brick and mortar location.
The development of videotape movies and players, first Sony’s Betamax, followed by VHS tapes and DVDs opened a new world and opportunity for a cinephile like me. It didn’t take me long to purchase my first VHS player and a lifetime membership at Video Station and later a membership at Blockbuster. Stopping by the video store to choose two or three films for the weekend was a regular ritual. The store clerks, like record and bookstore staff members, were always helpful in introducing me to art house and independent films, emerging filmmakers and classic movies. Five Star Video Cooperative, like A Room of One’s Own, was my go-to Third Place movie destination, especially for lesbian and gay titles and hard-to-find independent films and documentaries.
You Say Good-Bye, I Say Hello: Everything Old Is New Again
Just as I’ve learned to let go of many of the brick and mortar locations that were shopping destinations for me in the past, and whose store staff recommendations I relied upon, I’ve learned to embrace shopping online. Not only is there the convenience of shopping day or night from my home, but the ability to compare costs and choices from a number of sources, read consumer and critics’ reviews, and sample music, excerpts from books, and download books, music and movies.
What surprised however, was that a number of successful, exclusively online stores, are now opening small boutique brick and mortar locations, including Warby Parker, the affordable but style-trending prescription eyeglass e-retailer, Frank & Oak Hunt Club Men’s online retailer, and the Tie Bar.
At the end of the day I will always cherish the experience and memory of perusing album bins, book stacks, and movie shelves. When I was a child I found the library to be both my sanctuary and first Third Place, but more importantly a window to the world. Record, video and bookstores became my portal to culture. Now the portal itself, the internet and e-commerce is my door to consume what I want to see, hear and read.
Nostalgia: (n.) a sentimental yearning for the happiness of a former place or time.