Old-school record shop puts a different spin on buying music: One would expect vinyl records to be a thing of the past, especially with streaming services such as Spotify and Pandora gaining popularity. On the contrary, these treasures are making a comeback, especially over the last 10 years, after nearly disappearing in the early 2000s. Along with the vinyl resurgence comes the revived interest in the record shop. Whether one is an avid vinyl collector, or is just starting a collection, Cool Beat Music and Books is worth a visit.
“A little weirdo community centre”: Inside Hi-Tackle, Manchester’s secret record shop: Should you visit Manchester’s Hi-Tackle you’ll be forgiven for being taken aback by it. It’s a record store first and foremost, found in a snug office above the Hidden nightclub in Manchester’s industrial outskirts. For those outside the M1 postcode you’re almost certain to get lost when trying to find it, but when you do, you’ll spend half your time digging through the crates of boogie, street soul, jungle and hardcore, and the other half playing 8-bit video games. It’s like visiting that friend whose Mum let you swear and watch horror movies after school, that is, if those friends were Ruf Dug and Randy Brunson.
Remembering two Buffalo icons: Drive down East Ferry St. in Buffalo and you will pass Doris Records. The owner Mack Luchey passed away. In a 2004 interview with 2 On Your Side, he talked about expanding his record store, long before there was a Record Theatre. His store is where people could buy concert tickets that may not be available elsewhere. The flagship store remains open. Outside of music, Luchey was a founding member of Men Allied for the Need to Understand Prostate Cancer and the Juneteenth Festival. He was inducted into the Buffalo Music Hall of Fame in 2008.
My name is Dave, I collect vinyl records, and I have a problem. I recently had to move to a smaller apartment because of our great city’s rising rents. Maybe you can relate. This has forced me to face the unpleasant physical reality of my music collection, which consists of six or seven thousand records, CDs, and cassettes (conservative estimate). Oh yeah, and dozens of music-oriented DVDs. Cramming all of these artifacts — plus books, magazines, and non-music DVDs (because I’m a well-rounded individual) — into my new Beacon Hill apartment has required many ruthless decisions about what to keep and what to jettison. I’m not done making these decisions. As I write this, I’m surrounded by dozens of boxes.
For EPs, Brevity is a Subtle Bliss: I am in love with the EP. Not the specs of vinyl record they pressed in the 1950s by modern-day VCA Records to compete with Columbia’s LP records, even though its technical limitations contributed to our modern definition. The EP of today is essentially any release “longer than a single, shorter than a full album, usually about three to four songs long. But don’t let that dispassionate definition fool you. EPs are, as a form, a gift to music. The EP is, in some ways, the short story of the musical world. If they’re not good, we throw them away faster than we picked them up. Sure, a couple mistakes or uninteresting minutes might be forgivable on the LP, but when you’ve only got nine minutes of content on your record? Come on.
