Best U..S. Cities for Indie Record Shopping According To Me
Call me a dork but in your heart of hearts you KNOW this is interesting. After realizing that Boston and Cambridge - historically always considered great markets for indie music and stores - had only 1 and 3 participating Record Store Day locations while Seattle had 27, I felt compelled to perform a little exercise. Using the 2010 U.S. Census, I took the top 75 cities by population + 25 more semi-randomly selected from among the 76-275 most-populated. Then I looked up the participating stores on recordstoreday.com and divided the number of stores for each city into its population to get the population ratio per store. The idea is, a lower ratio of population per store makes a city more favorable to people who enjoy the brick-and-mortar indie record shop experience. For example, I'd rather live in a city with an indie record store for every 50,000 residents than one with a store for every half-million.
We have a champion. Congratulations, Pittsburgh, with a Record Store Day participating store for every 21,857 people you are theoretically the most indie record shop-friendly city in this hard land. Also, here's to you, Seattle, Minneapolis, Berkeley, and Cambridge: welcome to the Top Five. Salt Lake City, Ann Arbor, Madison, St. Louie and Portlandia... not too shabby, homeys, you cracked the Top Ten.
Dishonorable Mention goes to Jacksonville, Fresno, Anaheim, Newark (NJ) and Henderson (NV) - all among the 75 most-populated cities in the U.S. and not a single RSD location between you. Shame on you. And YOU, San Antone! You can't hide in the back! As the 7th most-populated city with the 94th best RSD ratio, you officially suck. Maybe all your records are in the basement of the Alamo. Have you considered seceding?
For those keeping score at home, here are the stats:
Here in Seattle, it was kind of a zoo but worth it. In five short years, RSD has grown from a relatively obscure event for music freaks to a pretty major event for collectors and hipsters. Still, it's a marvelous event for real music fans who actually buy their stuff and the independent music stores where the record shop experience still exists. (big chains are excluded from participation - this is not 'nam, there are rules). RSD is an occasion on which to find all kinds of vinyl awesomeness: from vintage re-issues to exclusive limited-editions and everything in between, the allegedly-dead music industry manages to produce a great deal of high-quality stuff for this annual occasion (this was RSD's fifth year).
Glad I live in Seattle. There's only 1 participating store in Boston and 3 in Cambridge (Newbury Comics is too big and corporately owned to qualify). 3 in Memphis, 5 in Nashville. 12 in Austin. 14 in San Francisco. 30 in Chicago. 15 in Portland, OR. 4 in Portland, ME. 27 in Seattle. I'll compute the RSD location-per-capita soon, but this appears to be a rare case of Seattle WIN-ING in the matter of a city being good at something. Huh.
This Year's Booty:
9am: Easy Street. There were already about 100 people inside and out, and it was a hipster free for all (many 20-30somethings who wouldn't know a Marquee Moon from a Television if it (album or tube) crawled up their inner thigh and got friendly). The store has a lot of retail product display by the check-out counter and they just didn't set things up or plan any crowd control for what's guaranteed to be the busiest day of the year. The place was full of bodies, nobody knew where the line was or where it began, etc. but while browsing was a bitch luckily as 3-4 lines ultimately met around the same homestretch to the register, everyone was laid-back about merging in a fair way. The dynamic resembled something like what the manufacturing industry might call a supervisor-free environment, a self-directed workforce. We all had our booty in-hand, so why beef about the line(s) situation? A table with a couple hundred records collapsed when the sleeve that keeps one of the legs straight snapped. The business end of it landed on my foot but no harm, no foul, a staffer came over and dealt with it.
10am: Sonic Boom. A similar but less feeding-frenzy-oriented clusterfuck than Easy Street. It was far easier to browse but the line moved slower (one of their two registers was on the fritz, compared to Easy Street's three working registers). The upside to the long and slow-moving line is that I grabbed a first-run 1989 Sub Pop issue Screaming Trees double 7" of Change Has Come b/w Days (black vinyl) + Time Speaks Her Golden Tongue b/w Flashes (white vinyl), and an Ohio Players LP. Neither were RSD releases but stellar grabs none the less.
11am: Finally, I hit Everyday Music which was more laid back, the rush being over, but as their 7" and 12" sides were placed at far ends of the store and not right in front of the register, something tells me the aforementioned clusterf**k registered at a noticeably more palatable click a couple hours ago. No lines, grabbed a few things.
7": Freddy King - Wash Out (alt. take) b/w Butterscotch reissue Death Cab For Cutie - In Living Stereo! RSD Exclusive Urge Overkill - Effigy (2010 UO Records) b/w Thekidsareinsane (1991 Touch & Go) reissue, green vinyl Buck Owens - Close Up the Honky Tonks b/w My Heart Skips a Beat (early versions)
10": Bruce Springsteen & the E Street Band - Gotta Get That Feeling b/w Racing in the Street '78 live from the Carousel, Asbury Park
12": Gorillaz - The Fall LP Fleet Foxes - Helplessness Blues b/w Grown Oceans single Bob Dylan - Live at Brandeis University 1963 LP Lady Gaga - Born This Way single + 3 remixes picture disc EP (5,000 pressed) Skip James - Today! LP (Vanguard re-issue)
Free stuff: Sub Pop - Terminal Sales Vol. 4 comp., magnificently packaged and awesome track listing of new stuff (CD) Universal RSD Sampler (CD) Epitaph Winter/Spring 2011 Sampler (CD) Universal "Lift Every Voice And Sing" gospel comp. (CD) Select-O-Hits comp. (CD) Thomas Dybdahl / Laura Jansen split single (Decca 7") The Right to D.I.Y. (double album 12" by Brown Paper Tickets) Soundgarden - 3 buttons
Also among the free swag, I got this neat shopping bag:
Not a bad little outing. Maybe I'll take Monday off work. You know. Record Store Day observed.
After my first visit to the People's Republic, with a bullet, straight to the top of the pops, Austin is my new favorite city. Jessica and I went down there for the wedding celebration of our friends, Ruby and Jorge. Here's a run-down:
FRIDAY: From the moment we get off the plane, it's clear that live music is decidedly a core element of this town's landscape. There's a good band playing rhythm & blues, in the permanent Asleep At The Wheel stage situated right in the middle of everything, among the food court and bookstores, in an area through which anyone walking between the gates, baggage claim, security and ground transportation must walk. Austin sets the tone: the first and last thing you experience about this place is good live music. As we'd experience at every turn during this trip, the tunes are not just a bookend, it's the very fabric of the city.
The Hotel San Jose - checking into our super cool bungalow-style hotel is delightful. One step into the lobby and we see framed showbills from local clubs of Buddy Buy, B.B. King, Bobby Bland, Bobby Womack... behind the front desk is a Fabulous Thunderbirds showbill... the courtyard and outdoor lounge areas are cozy and tranquil for sitting, breakfast, a snack or cocktail.
Now we're checked in and whattaya know, it's happy hour! We're in the SoCo neighborhood (South Congress Ave.), and right across the street is the awesome Continental Club, where the Mighty Blue Kings used to play when I worked for them in the late 90s. Happy hour here means no cover + live music with the Blues Specialists. We enjoy a couple ice-cold Lone Stars and step across the street for a dinner of small plates at Snack Bar. The baked brie + diced pear, braised pork belly sliders, my my my... Now, we're off to The Highball, a Vegas-style combination diner, bowling alley, and first-class music venue where our just-married friends are headlining a rockabilly bill with their band, Ruby Dee & the Snakehandlers. After a message from my friend Skeeter, a Texas man I work with in Seattle, we change beers. I believe he wrote, "Lone Star is Texas piss water. Try Shiner Bock, now that's a beer." We follow his tip and we're happy for it. Shiner Bock is a good beer, indeed. Next, we head back to the hotel (it's midnight) but first check what's going on at the Continental. It's a CD release show with legendary guitarist and ex-Fabulous Thunderbird, Kid Ramos, with his band Los Fabulocos. It's a fun blend of rhythm & blues with a mariachi front and a mambo back. Here's a minute or two of Kid tearing the place apart during a guitar-and-drums break:
And we're ALMOST done with our first night in Austin. A block up the road is the highly recommended pizza joint, Homeslice. A couple slices later, and we're quietly resting back at the hotel.
SATURDAY: Room service breakfast today, which we ordered yesterday. Here, room service means a phone call from the front desk advising, "we'll meet ya in the courtyard in 5 minutes." Fresh fruit with cream and chocolate, croissants, a ham & cheese omelet for me, french toast for her, an urn of coffee, fresh OJ and a bottle of champagne (Jessica is a sucker for a mimosa). Now we're off to Ruby and Jorge's house for their backyard BBQ wedding celebration. They cured some meats over the last few days for BBQ and the sides + desserts are pot luck. We bring a couple dozen cupcakes we got from a truck. Food trucks are an increasingly popular source of higher-end cuisine across the U.S. (makes sense, if the 3 most critical factors in the success or failure of a small business are location, location, and location: put your show on wheels, baby!), they're huge in Austin. Jessica is such a cupcake aficionado, she refers to herself as The Cupcake Tourist and has long considered writing a travel book using that motif and title. These are the best cupcakes we've ever had. Hey, Cupcake!
But we digest... the wedding party is simply perfect. Ruby and Jorge have always been the best hosts, as we know from previous Thanksgiving dinners at their place when they were our neighbors in Seattle. There's a traditional Tex-Mex band playing on the patio. People take turns working the grill and serving beverages. In a few hours, we enjoy more sunlight than we have during Seattle's first 100 days of 2011. Literally. The National Weather Service confirms this. Look it up. Jorge dancing with his mom: Now, after all this sun, it's nap time! We sleep heavy and long, wake up later than we want to, but a late start is better than no start. On Ruby's tip, we hit Curra's Grill for the best Mexican food we've ever had. We start with a Mexican Martini (that would be a margarita) and I can't even recall what Jessica had because my dish knocked me right on my tooshie. The Carnitas comes with your tortilla of choice (I'm a flour guy), guacamole, pico de gallo, beans of choice (I'm a pinto guy), rice, sour cream, diced tomato, and now for the money shot: shredded pork marinated in Coca-Cola, milk, and OJ. That's right. Ch-ch-checkitOUT:
After the Mexican gut bomb, we head out to the legendary traditional honkey tonk The Broken Spoke where longtime owner James White stands by the host area to greet every customer with a smile and a "thank you" on our way in. Class, defined. On stage, the similarly legendary Dale Watson puts a smile on every face and a Texas 2-step in every body ("slow, quick-quick, slow"). The audience spans 3 generations, from the twentysomethings to the barely above ground and everything in between. Skeeter has mentioned "dress jeans" and I've made fun of him, but here I see it and now I get it. Picture a guy wearing a nicely polished pair of boots, a pressed button-down cowboy shirt, his hair perfectly combed beneath a proper cowboy hat. What kind of britches is that guy gonna wear? Dark, unfaded, ironed, DRESS JEANS. Seriously, Skeeter, I swear: now I get it. After a couple hours, we head back to home base. Above the Continental Club, there's an art gallery with a Hammond B-3 jazz trio playing. We sit at the small bar, have a couple libations and enjoy this ass-kicking ensemble for an hour or so before crossing the street for bedtime. Okay, maybe we hit Homeslice for some late-nite pizza, but this can be neither confirmed nor denied as the details were a little blurry at this point.
SUNDAY: Okay, apparently we DID get a couple slices last night, judging by the box on the table. Good thing I kept the room temperature somewhere in the high 40s - the room is a fridge and we can share that one slice to tide us over before.. SUNDAY GOSPEL BRUNCH AT STUBB'S BBQ. This place is legendary, with an occupancy capacity of 519 it's where (for example) Tom Waits launched his "comeback" in '99, and in the 70s musicians who would “play for their supper” included Muddy Waters, John Lee Hooker, Willie Nelson, Johnny Cash, Robert Cray, George Thorogood, Clarence “Gatemouth” Brown, Linda Ronstadt and the Fabulous Thunderbirds. The brunch is amazing - for $18 (or $15 if you don't need a stagefront view of the band) we get every bit of what (for example, and no disrespect to HoB) we've gladly paid $40 at the House of Blues. Below: Biscuit + gravy, migas con chorizo y queso, garlic cheese grits, creme spinach, cornmeal-rolled catfish. Bacon. I did not photograph Round Two: The Brisket. Some things are best kept private. Hey, did I mention the awesome gospel group? I'm an agnostic jerkbag, but I really enjoy me some uplifting gospel music. After the brunch, we ask for a wheel barrel to get us outta there. Alas, no dice.
I'll say this about Stubb's and it applies to every place we hit all weekend: AWESOME staff, everyone is either happy to be there or they're doing an Oscar-worthy job of selling it - which I wouldn't buy, because my BS meter is sharp. People here are just nice and friendly and I believe it truly is that simple.
Yard Dog Gallery - after brunch, we hobble into the art gallery owned by a guy I've rubbed elbows with over the years enough to say I know 'im (a certain number of shared beers, tequila shots and a burger may be involved in this equation - not to assume he knows me, as I'm certain the aforementioned shared experiences don't put me in a particularly exclusive category!), in my opinion the truest Renaissance Man of our time, the great Jon Langford.
Back at the hotel, we nap, then turn on the television for the first time. Taylor. Newman. Ives. Ah, the film adaptation of Cat on a Hot Tin Roof. What would a Tennessee Williams play be without booze, junk, and family drama?
Sunday night, we hit Antone's, the blues club from where the early careers of the Fabulous Thunderbirds and Stevie Ray Vaughan were launched. It's an Austin Blues Society membership drive event. I'm skeptical because this event in most cities (I've been to a few of 'em) registers somewhere between lousy and lame. But not here. Three bands and they all killed. They'd all be weekend headliners in any other city. 80something LEGEND Lavelle White shows up and rocks a few tunes. Amazing. For a late dinner, we hit some place which is apparently well-known and a tourist trap for a bite. Jessica gets forgettable tamales and queso. I get unforgettable chilled shots of Sammy Hagar's Cabo Wabo tequila. It's our last night, so I step back into the Continental Club for a few minutes. It's Sunday and this is the club's THIRD show tonight. In most cities, venues are more commonly closed on Sunday. Not here. Playing here every Sunday is a cool, gritty, real country band called Heybale. It's a CD release show for them. I get a shot of Jameson with a water back, buy a CD and a bumper sticker, and return to the hotel within 30 minutes after promising Jessica I'd return within ten. [a] who can get across the street, pay a cover, have a drink, catch a couple tunes and cross the street again in ten minutes? [2] hey, some guys get lap dances, I get a drink and catch some music! Upon return, I'm far from in trouble. In fact, we "rent" a free DVD from the front desk. Fishing With John, the short-lived (six episodes) 1991 t.v. series. We watch the Tom Waits episode and then fall asleep during the Dennis Hopper. Rather than describe this, it's best that you set aside 7-8 minutes:
MONDAY: We sleep in and hit Amy's Ice Cream. That's right, ice cream for breakfast. We're on vacation. Don't judge. And now, for our last official act... we'll drive a bit to the town of Driftwood to experience what we've heard and will soon understand as the world's greatest BBQ. Salt Lick. A half-hour drive from the City Limits and (understatement) worth it, this fanfare-free and cash-only BYOB joint is simply the best and in a class of its own. The property is unpaved, the signs hand-made, the vibe warm & welcoming and everything about the service comes with the kind of laid-back slice of pleasantry that we city people tend to doubt. In other words: perfect. The brisket, ribs, sausage, potato salad, baked beans... best I've ever had. Now THAT's a BBQ:
Austin, Texas. Big, clean, collegiate, progressive, easily navigated, good eatin', arts and culture everywhere, my new favorite town.
