Ian Fowles

2-27-07

TNDY 401

  “It’s the End of the World as We Know it”: A Lament on the Death of the Record Store in Los Angeles 

Intro

            Tower Records on the Sunset strip is closed. The Capitol Records building on Hollywood and Vine, one of the most prominent symbols of the music business in the world, is being converted into apartments. The visible and cultural face of Los Angeles is changing due to one of its formerly chief exports: recoded music. Not only has “the emergence of digital music recording, storage and distribution…presented challenges to established ways of producing, buying and listening to music”[1] but it has begun to alter the very geography of cities across the country and even the world, especially L.A. and its environs. Social historian of communication technology Steve Jones believes that these changes deserve scholarly attention “for they involve a concomitant social reshaping by shifting the sites of hearing and listening and of buying music in spatial terms (i.e. in regard to the locus of encountering, hearing and purchasing).”[2]

            While the disappearance of the record store is definitely not exclusive to Los Angeles, it is perhaps more important to look into this phenomenon in a city that has a reputation for being a Mecca for the music industry. Los Angeles is a hub for music recording, performance, and distribution. It is the home or birthplace of some the most celebrated musical acts of the 20^th and 21^st century. It is the headquarters for a myriad of independent and major record labels, management, and booking agencies. Los Angeles was the destination for Tom Petty, Axl Rose and countless others when they knew they wouldn’t receive an equal opportunity for greatness in their small hometowns. On the popular television show American Idol, the triumphant “You’re going to Hollywood” is said to hopefuls who pass mass auditions held throughout the country. Perhaps no other place is quite as synonymous with ‘making it’ in the music industry (and tv/film for that matter) than L.A.

The rise in computer technology over the past decade has escalated at an unprecedented rate, thereby allowing more and more people to afford the luxury of a personal computer and access to a high speed internet connection. Many people began downloading, storing, and listening to music on their computers. The advent of the Apple iPod also increased this trend. Many people now only purchase music on-line, causing the closing of numerous record stores. Digital recording equipment has also dropped in price, allowing many musicians to create quality recordings at home, thereby causing many recording studios to lose business as well. One source indicated

“Last year, downloaded tracks from online retailers soared to 332.7 million, compared with 134.2 million in 2004 -- an increase of 148%. And when former customers weren't downloading music, they were burning friends' CDs. The landscape for bricks-and-mortar storeowners has been nothing less than a disaster zone.”[3]

Indeed, times have gotten tough for a physical record store to survive, and in true Darwinian form, many of them simply could not. It is estimated

“[n]ationwide, nearly 1,000 independent stores closed in the last three years, according to Clark Benson, chief executive and founder of the Los Angeles-based Almighty Institute of Music Retail, which has compiled an industry database. There are 2,800 stores left; 10 years ago, there were about 5,000, he said.”[4]

In Los Angeles, this technological shift has seen vinyl pressing plants changed into Compact Disc pressing plants, but what will the CD plants be turned into if there is no longer a tactile product to sell? Jobs of many Angelinos will be lost in a huge number of capacities should CD’s cease to be pressed.

            Since the onset of digital burning, downloading and file-sharing, Los Angeles has seen the demise of numerous small music shops; many along the prestigious Melrose Avenue, a place of heavy foot traffic and shoppers. Two of the biggest casualties in the independent record store closings were Aron’s Records and Rhino Records. Both stores had been in business for decades, and their closures were mourned in the LA Times. Rhino founders even had a record label that they recently sold. Before its departure, Rhino tried to diversify its inventory to stay alive.

“Its retail space gave way to comic books and pop-culture trinkets and then later to rows of pinball machines. Its music inventory in recent months was far less than its imposing collection in years past. That's a metaphor for music retail as a whole, which as seen its floor-space given over to video games and DVDs as the prerecorded music CD has lost favor with consumers.”[5]

During the final closing sale of Rhino Records, some “parents dragg[ed] their children in to show them what a vinyl record looks like. ‘My children will think of an independent record store like I think of a drive-in’”[6] one adult mused. It is an interesting thought however because there is hardly a drive-in to be seen in Los Angeles County these days, let alone in the city proper. One observer noticed that now there is no independent record store near UCLA, one of the largest colleges in the country which he believes “says a lot.”[7] One college in South Carolina reported that as soon as broadband internet was installed in the campus dorms, sales dried up “overnight.”[8] It appears that a majority of teens and post-teens care less about the package as long as they have the music, especially if they can get it for free.

            In 2001, the indie music store behemoth Amoeba Music opened a location on Sunset Boulevard almost the size of an entire city block. As if CD burning and file sharing weren’t enough to injure smaller record stores of L.A., this megalith of an independent record store whose stock (and usually prices) rivaled all other stores in the Los Angeles area was the death blow. In an LA Times article, someone especially hard hit by the opening of Amoeba laments

“‘[w]e were the victims of competition,’ said Jesse Klempner, owner of Aron's Records in Los Angeles. The store could not compete with the lower prices offered by chain stores, big-box retailers and a profusion of low-cost online sellers…Klempner acknowledged that his shop was also hurt by Amoeba Music, a Bay Area-based independent store that opened a Los Angeles branch a mile away from Aron's in Hollywood. Amoeba features a bigger inventory of music and DVDs, and has been praised for its pricing policies and marketing savvy.”[9]

Although Amoeba can be seen as the bad guy to established indie stores, it has become a new Los Angeles landmark and symbol for the music industry. The brightly colored neon sign indicates that for now, music is alive in L.A. Amoeba’s appearance is problematic because at once it is helping destroy the musical landscape of the city by driving out other stores, yet because of its size and location firmly establishing the presence of the tangible music product and the business that is associated with it.

            It’s not just the independents that have felt the knockout punch of the digital age. Chains like Sam Goody, The Warehouse, and most recently Tower Records have been dropping like flies. By the end of the 2006, all Tower Records locations were closed, including the landmark store on Sunset Boulevard. One former patron had this to say in an on-line blog:

Similarly, an article appeared in the Los Angeles Times around the same time that captured the mainly mournful attitude of Tower shoppers.

“The sign outside Tower Records' flagship store on West Hollywood's Sunset Strip underscored the mixture of disappointment and disbelief…that the giant music retailer would be liquidating its inventory and closing all 89 stores across the country...’It's the end of the world as we know it,’ the sign read, deliberately echoing the title of a hit song by R.E.M. ‘Thanks for your loyalty.’…[One shopper] recalled bygone days, before the chain's music sales were eroded by the Internet and competition by big-box discount stores such as Wal-Mart and Best Buy, when Tower was a meeting spot-cum-hangout for teens: a non-virtual version of Myspace.com.”[11]

The record store was a place to rub shoulders with all different kinds of people, be exposed to new music and spend excess time and money. However, one teen interviewed in the same article admitted "’I don't really even like to buy CDs,’ said Teddy. ‘Usually I just buy songs on iTunes.’"[12] This is a trend that has been noticed by record store owners nationwide. A record store owner has noticed that his clientele have become much older, which is a visible difference from early times where

“[t]he neighborhood record store was once a clubhouse for teenagers, a place to escape parents, burn allowances and absorb the latest trends in fashion as well as music. But these days it is fast becoming a temple of nostalgia for shoppers old enough to remember ‘Frampton Comes Alive!’”[13]

 The younger demographic is disappearing from the stores, and often they are more turned on to purchasing single songs rather than full albums, which is reminiscent of the earliest days of the music business where the money was in pressing vinyl 45’s.

Orange County

The situation has been equally dire in Orange County, a neighboring county to the south that is often lumped into the sprawl that makes up the greater Los Angeles area. Within the past couple years it has seen the close of Noise Noise Noise and Goat Hill Records in Costa Mesa along with Bionic Records in Fullerton and Huntington Beach, Discount Records in Buena Park and Underdog Records in Laguna Beach. A number of articles have appeared in the independent magazine The OC Weekly as stores continue to go out of business. In an interview with Underdog Records owner Mike Lohrman on the subject of their closure, he admits that he will miss the sense of community he experienced during the 15 years the record store was open. Speaking of internet shopping (specifically ebay) he says

“it’s taken away the human element – you don’t get to have conversations with people you’re shopping with. I’m going to miss that the most – hanging out with like-minded people. I really get a kick out of the kids coming in and talking to them…That is so rewarding I can’t even tell you.”[14]

Former owner of Noise Noise Noise, Dave James, intends on trying to open another record shop focusing on mainly high end vinyl, and following in the footsteps of Rand Foster, owner of the Long Beach record store Fingerprints who has expanded the store’s inventory to include magazines, books, T-shirts, as well as in-store artist performances. It seems that such a diversification will help for the moment, but may not end up being enough to avoid the imminent demise that many see ahead for ‘brick-and-mortar’ record stores. With such competition coming not only from on-line sources, but from massive electronics chains who can sell CD’s below wholesale and not depend on them for the survival of their stores, the inevitable death of the record store is a black cloud looming overhead.

What Will be Lost?

In the absence of the small, independent record store, or perhaps all physical record shops sometime in the not too distant future, what can be expected to be lost, culturally speaking, from Los Angeles? Record stores were often a place of community where musicians and fans alike could literally rub shoulders. It is a space where not only are musical tastes broadened and enriched, but a social locus where friendships are gained and maintained. “Dave Marsh, the rock critic and author of books on popular music, noted that rockers like Jonathan Richman and Iggy Pop honed their edgy musical tastes working as record store clerks.”[15] Many bands tell the story of forming through an ad posted in a local record shop. The usually over-knowledgeable (and often highly opinionated) staff can still offer an education. Amazon.com may offer a recommendation based on purchasing patterns of their shoppers, but there is something lacking when it comes to context. For example, browsing library catalogs online is different than actually walking down the isles of books themselves. When scouring the shelves for that perfect source, a book can catch the eye a row or two above where one is looking, and it turns out to be an even better resource for the project. So it is in the world of music. Looking through rows or crates of LP’s and CD’s can provide the musical consumer with opportunity to find treasures not so easily obtainable through a database or online retailer. But what teen has the patience for that?

Another facet of the musical product that suffers is album artwork. A lot can be told about a band or album through correctly ‘reading’ an album cover. The date and label are huge factors, but so is the layout. Font shapes and colors, photographs, as well as certain artistic themes can signal what the album will perhaps sound like. Sometimes it can be very hard to adequately recognize and decipher these signifiers through on-line shopping, if they are even available for scrutiny.

“Richard Antone, a freelance writer from Newark, N.J., whose hair was flecked with silver curls, said his weekly trip to the store is a visual experience as well as an auditory one. ‘I remember how people admired the artwork on an album like 'Electric Ladyland' or 'Sgt. Pepper' as much as the music,’ he said.”[16]Perhaps what LA will lose is just another place to go and spend money, but it seems like more than that is at stake. In a city that has not only produced some of the most successful acts in music, but also been the home of numerous recording studios and record labels it seems like a disconnect that in a few short years there potentially may not be a physical space in which to browse and buy music. Again, the withdrawal of more of the human element from society will only further fragment social patterns of future generations.

Conclusion

            Many more questions than answers have arisen during this study. Should a tangible, physical product matter that much, or is it all nostalgia? Does the music industry need a visible presence in Los Angeles apart from the live concert venue? Will social networks survive without a physical place like a record store for like-minded people to interact? Will CD’s eventually become obsolete relics or cherished collector’s item? There are changes taking place that effect much more than just Los Angeles, as has been hinted to in this study. Closing with a quote by author Steve Jones helps to echo the call to further delve into these important cultural issues:

“It is time for scholars to stretch their imagination, to ask questions about music, place and space in relation to diaspora, community, technology, and business. What is at stake is an opportunity for popular music studies to add to our understanding of technology’s intersection with social life and social being, just as connection is at stake for the musician who desires an audience, or the fan who seeks others.”[17]

   Bibliography

Connell, John, and Chris Gibson. SoundTracks: Popular Identity Music, Identity,

and Place. London & New York: Routledge, 2003.

Popular Music. Cambridge University Press, 2000.

Los Angeles Times. 2004-2006.

OC Weekly. 2006.

Washington Post. 2004.