My Old Stomping Grounds (or thereabouts...)
On a recent Sunday night, I find myself on my old Greenwich Village stomping grounds. The last time I lived in New York City, I was twenty nine. I lived on Leroy Street, between Seventh and Bleeker, and there was a cafe and a record store at the end of the block. The cafe, Rocco's, was an almost daily indulgence. But the record store, not so much. I don't know why - was it even there then? I shopped at another record store - long gone - closer to the #6 Subway entrance further east on Bleeker...what was it's name?
Back in those days, I still listened to records. Even though CDs had been available for about four years by then, I hadn't switched. Yet. I still had my old college Kenwood receiver and - oh, I can't remember the turntable manufacturer - and Boston Acoustics speakers, but those are long gone now, given to a younger friend after I had switched into CDs.
The music I was listening to then was a strange mix of late eighties New Wave, Motown R&B, Prince, and Van Morrison. Dylan. The Stones. Neil Young. I really liked Graham Parker's 'Howlin' Wind' and Joe Jackson's 'Look Sharp' and everything by the Talking Heads.
But many years later, having bolted to Pittsburgh to teach architecture, I find myself briefly back on my old stomping grounds in New York City for a short business trip. Here I am on Leroy Street again and here is Rocco's and Bleeker Street Records. Rocco's is almost unrecognizable - large and bright. Once a dark and woody interior, Rocco's once gently welcomed me. Now, it pushes me away, its shine and glare telling me that the past is past, go away. The record store - actually really more of a CD store now with records relegated to the basement - on the other hand is suitably shabby and ushers me in.
After realizing that the main floor offers me nothing of interest, I descend to the basement. Low ceilings layered with album covers and records, harsh fluorescent light, walls displaying treasures, racks of jazz, and electronica and rock. I love the look and feel of it all. Unfortunately, the small rock sections - one displaying supposed 'collectables,' the other more mainstream - offer little of real interest.
I am spoiled. Jerry's, here in Pittsburgh, has an unbelieveable selection and friendly prices. There is nothing friendly about the prices in this Bleeker Street basement. A few temptations, like one of Jack Bruce's early solo projects, whisper to me. But nothing screams 'bring me home!'
Nevertheless - and despite the limited slection and high prices - I thoroughly enjoy my visit, spending a good hour sifting through the rock record racks, listening to the music they play, and thinking to myself that if they can get prices like these for these records then my little collection would be worth a lot here! Everything is worth and costs more in New York. The salaries, the rents - everything is ridiculously inflated. Emptyhanded, I happily climb the steps of the basement shop. For this evening, it is enough to find a decent record store in Manhattan, even though it isn't great - not nearly as good as what I am used to!
But where, I wonder, ARE the great used vinyl record stores in New York? Do they still exist? Are they all behind closed doors? In Brooklyn? If so, where? Someone please tell me so that I am prepared for my next trip to my old stomping grounds, or thereabouts.
I need to know.
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