“The record store that I had in my neighborhood in New York was a place called Slipped Disc. My first job was down the block in a redemption center of a beer distributor. I think I made $4.25 an hour and my job basically was to put empty cans and bottles into different containers and give people money. So for two years straight I think I either spent all my money on records or lost it playing cee-lo on the weekends.”
“Two guys ran the place. One was just a normal looking, angry old dude that would somehow always be restocking the CDs directly next to or exactly where you were looking. Granted, I had shady looking punk friends and they stole things. The other guy was a classic archetype of a record store guy.
He had long, black and flowing ’80s hair-band hair, rings on every finger, maybe one dangling earring but I may be making that up. He definitely wore leather pants and shirts made for pirates but he also had this thick, old New York accent, like Johnny Ramone and there was something really tough about him. I think I put off buying a Misfits record I wanted for at least a year because I was too intimidated to actually purchase it from him.
It was the ’90s so the vinyl section was a lot smaller, mostly punk and hip-hop. But I bought my first Clash records there and Operation Ivy t-shirts and patches. I think they stayed in business until the early 2000s and now it’s a tea house called “Sip This” which is kind of a cute homage, but also infuriating. When I was back in New York a few years ago I went to a record expo in a VFW hall with my father and behind a bunch of milk crates, with the same flowing locks was the guy from my old record store. I talked to him for about ten minutes about the old neighborhood and his Queen tribute band, Almost Queen that I was not aware of, and felt very proud considering I spent six years completely avoiding eye contact. But I still didn’t buy that Walker Brothers record he wanted $50 for.
The first records I got were probably my father’s. Led Zeppelin and some ’60s New York bands like The Rascals and The Illusion. I’ve spent so much time in record stores because every one is different. It’s the one place that changes from city to city. You’re not going to find the same records at Euclid Records in New Orleans that you’re going to find at Rasputin’s in Oakland. It’s all very localized. It’s almost like produce in that way. So when we tour and travel I never buy souvenirs I just buy records. I have a copy of Birth of The Cool I bought in Paris. There’s nothing French about that record but every time I listen to it I think about France.
The only friends I had growing up that liked music were all really into punk. So the first records I got into were of that vein. I was always pretty soft if I’m being honest, so I never went for The Subhumans or The Casualties. I gravitated towards the late ’70s punk records like Television, The Specials, and The Clash. I had a cool aunt that bought me a Misfits box set that I wore out. But at the same time I found Blood on the Tracks by Bob Dylan. I think that changed my whole idea of music and I’ve since accrued every Dylan record I can get my hands on. Also at some time around there I also found If You’re Feeling Sinister by Belle and Sebastian. I guess I was all over the place really. But the record that has haunted me and inspired me since I first heard it is Pet Sounds by The Beach Boys. The first time I heard “You Still Believe in Me” I lost my mind and still haven’t quite recovered.
For the making of Don’t Dwell, I was influenced by a lot of Phil Spector’s recordings and great albums like Death of a Ladies’ Man by Leonard Cohen and All Things Must Pass by George Harrison. Bill Fay’s The Time of the Last Persecution. Booker T and The MGs early recordings and Morricone’s mid ’60s soundtracks. Eldorado by Electric Light Orchestra. Ariel Pink’s Haunted Graffiti.”
—Andy Bianculli
Star Parks’ full-length release, Don’t Dwell is in stores now via Paper Trail Records—on vinyl.
