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Photographs by Audra DeMariano
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It’s not breaking news, exactly. Record stores are fighting against the march of technology. But there’s little chance that some type of John Conner-styled warrior is coming back to, say, 1978, to beat down the compact disc player, the MP3, and file-sharing software. As music fans we buy music differently than before and even the most die-hard adherents of physical product are going to be swayed by digital downloads when the choice is owning the work or going without.
But this past weekend, the record stores fought back. With a national campaign that’s built steam over the past few years, Record Store Day has been added to the retail calendar, with three St. Louis stores enthusiastically gripping onto the conceit: Vintage Vinyl, Apop Records and Euclid Records.
It was at the latter store that I did a DJ set on Saturday at 12:30. The wind that afternoon, you might recall, was ferocious and the temperatures dropped just in time for the partially outdoor sale to take on a near-layer of frost. But the folks who came to buy limited records were already in the store for more than two hours by the time I rolled up to the venue at 12:15. In fact, there was a line around the block at the time the key turned at 10 a.m., with every clerk on staff working to ensure that fans to secure their seven-, 10- and 12-inch vinyl rarities.
Onstage, a series of acts accompanied the day’s retail-based activities, while we DJs entertained a far smaller audience outside; in fact, we probably confused motorists as much as anything, tucked behind a piece of plastic that provided an all-important windbreak for both DJ and turntables’ tone-arms. But the folks inside, well, they were rocking and rolling in temperature comfort all day, with a wide assortment of the best bands in St. Louis represented.
Several high points may have come through the day, but the local duo Sleepy Kitty benefited from a great slot and used that luck thoroughly. Early enough that some of the shoppers were still pawing through the weekend’s exclusives, but late enough to catch the groggy-headed, sleeping-in types (whomever they might be; er...), Sleepy Kitty was able to capture the attention of the large audience, with the crowd tucked a dozen deep in front of the stage, then bending around every corner nearby. Signed to the Euclid Records’ house label, Sleepy Kitty had one of those days: they entertained; they piqued interest in their upcoming release; they brought people into the store exclusively for them, people who had a better-than-average desire to buy stuff; and they provided the perfect soundtrack for the event.
When locally owned, boutique-style video shops started disappearing one at a time, there was a sense of “oh, no, not again” panic from fans, but stores like Bijou, Whiz Bam! and the Movie Set were fighting against their own, almost-impossible-to-defeat forces. As VHS tapes were being replaced by DVDs, the price of adapting was growing too high; plus cable TV had already gained traction by the time the stores were emptying their shelves in the late ‘90s. And there was a certain inevitability about the whole situation, with home delivery and streaming videos still off on the horizon.
As filmmakers aren’t exactly able to go into a store to “perform,” otherwise help save it, musical artists are more able to make such an attempt, and judging by the sheer amount of bands lending their talents to RS Day at all three local venues (with Euclid booking for two days solid), the message was clear.
Bands benefit from music retailers and vice versa. Fans will support both, especially if there’s an exclusive to be had, or a deal to be made. And sometimes what seems like a purely commercial “holiday” can have a distinct meaning beyond the simple ringing of cash registers.
Record Store Day is now a must-see, must-hear part of any true music fan’s calendar. Tired record store clerks notwithstanding, it’s a bummer that the next one’s 12 months away.
