For many years, I wanted to live in my
current neighborhood but everything that was once appealing about it is
rapidly fading away like an old Polaroid photo in reverse. St.
Mark's Place looks like a mall and the NYU kids and whoo-hoo girls
have made the place seem like an extension of college. Adding to my
disappointment is the fact that one of the two record stores on my
block closed this weekend. I've always found it odd (yet refreshing) that in an era
where record stores are becoming extinct, our block has been able
to sustain two shops. Until now. This store is collateral damage of
the digital music revolution and its conquering of all physical music
media. As if that weren't enough of an opponent, they're also on the
losing side of the gentrification of the East Village. The building
now has new owners and, if you live in New York City, there's no need
to spell out the rest.
While I was only in there once or
twice and never bought anything, I'm always saddened when a small
business owner in the East Village is forced to shutter a business
and seek livelihood elsewhere. When it's a record store, I feel an
extra bit of sorrow. As much as I love the convenience of things
like MP3s and Spotify, I will be the first to tell you that the sonic
quality of these mediums does not measure up to a physical record.
Whenever I put on a piece of vinyl, I immediately recognize the warm
thump of bass that I never get to hear through those white earbuds.
That timbre reaches down to my bones and warms me from the inside.
There's now an entire generation of people who will never know this
feeling. I can't blame the kids, really, as they're not being given
the option to experience music any other way. For those of you who
know better and who turned your backs for the sake of convenience,
shame on you.
I heard that the owners are
planning to go to LA and give things a shot there. I hope they make
it.
