Let me share with you a recent conversation I had...
Me: Are there any record stores in Santa Barbara?
Me: I want to look for some used CDs.
Justin: You still listen to CDs? Why don't you just download what you want?
Me: *evil eye*
I'm sorry, digital?!?! I'm not saying I don't have any digital music. I'm not saying I don't have an mp3 player. But nothing compares to flipping through a pile of CDs, pulling out the one you want, and sliding it into the CD player. I realize the fact that I treat my CDs as if they are prized vinyl might seem a little ridiculous, but I was born in 1980. Sue me. I want to look at the track listing on the back. I want to recall all the beautiful memories that the cover art evokes. I want to take out the little booklet and look at the lyrics and then wonder why the always gets caught when you try to put it back in the case. It's all part of the experience. When I'm shopping, I want to hear that plastic clacking sound when you go through the racks at the record store. I want to hold the music in my hand and take it home with me.
Don't even get me started on ebooks.
So lately I've been craving record stores. I want to devour them disc by disc. When I go out of town I always check to see if they have a place that sells used music. Since record stores aren't really a big thing anymore (sad), the ones that are left are usually pretty cool places.
After the Grammy Museum, Erik and I felt it was our duty to then visit Amoeba Music in Hollywood. Surprisingly, Amoeba has only been there since 2001, but it became an instant landmark when it opened. Think Empire Records, but on steroids.
When we walked in we were instantly overwhelmed. We quickly went over our mental lists of what kind of music we like and what artists we were looking for because we knew that as soon as we crossed the threshold we would forget everything. Which is exactly what happened. I know I like Hootie and the Blowfish and I wanted Cracked Rear View, but do I also like Perry Como? Do I want his Christmas album? I just don't know anymore! Where's Elvis?!
Erik was pulled into the movie soundtrack section, while I ended up in reggae and soul. We could have stayed forever; rolled out our sleeping bags right there in the aisles and moved in. Except that my nasty sinus cold was making my energy fade faster than a one hit wonder. I knew our time was limited.
As I finally made my way to the register with my copies of Bob Marley's Legend and Michael Jackson's Michael, I heard, "Will the guy who was looking for Bachman-Turner Overdrive please come up to the front, we found the CD you wanted." I laughed. This place is awesome.