Today is record store day. Well in America it is anyway. Ozzy is the ambassador for the day. I wonder how many people took note and went and supported an independent record store.
I have to admit I didn't. But I do. It actually made me a little sad. If I was older I suspect it would make me even sadder. The older you are the more time there's been for things to change. I thought back to my teenage years and my favourite record stores. There were the ones in Camden market that for a brief 18 month period I visited every few months. My favourite place of all without question, was a little place sort of in the subway by the old bus station in Bristol. You could even smoke in there. I didn't even have a record player and yet I used to go in and buy vinyl. I'm not a complete idiot or anything; I did have friends with record players. I spent hours and hours and hours in that place, and it never got old lighting up in a shop. I smoked more in there than I did in any pub. Partly because I was always slightly nervous, and partly because it gave me a little rush of adrenalin every time I did it. I probably looked high as a kite; trembling and twitching away! It was full of old punks with brown paper bags, a floor that I cannot begin to describe without making it sound wholly repulsive, and staff that nobody would have dared to steal from. It was a grotto. I'd forgotten until today that at 16 I actually did a little trading and managed to turn around a few hundred pounds in old punk records. So I got to thinking about where there was an independent record store and there aren't many that spring to mind. There is one here that I can think of. Badlands. But that's it. And I do tend to go to them. I certainly avoid HMV. Always packed. In recent years all my CDs have been given to me, or bought at gigs and festivals. I can't remember the last time I was in a record shop of any description. As I understand it, even the chains are struggling. Anyway, I raise my glass of wine to the days of the sub-way vinyl.
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