LETTERS. WE GET LETTERS.
Got to admit, the last day has been a blast. So much feedback over the Op Ed, almost all of which was positive. Some correspondence was very entertaining. Here's one below from an old customer:
It was great (in a melancholy sort of way) to read the Op Ed in the New York Times yesterday.
I was a regular. I loved to browse and listen to what you guys were playing. Every Tuesday (and most weekends) I would swing by to see what NYCD had found that had flown under my radar (and my radar is pretty good). Even on the rare occasion I went away empty handed, it was always worth the trip for those elaborate handwritten labels on the week’s more dubious releases. I still laugh about the time Sal “loaned” me the advanced release of Paul Westerberg’s Suicaine Gratifaction on the condition that I not bring it back.
I left New York in 2002 to return to Austin with its cloyingly smug music scene. Every time I would visit New York, I would drop in on the new location and find some peculiar Jon Auer disc or something that I would never be able to find in Texas.
But when I visited last month, I was saddened to see NYCD replaced by a laundromat. In reality, however, I didn’t really expect the store to still be in business. It is weird though. In the space of three Fountains of Wayne records, NYCD has gone from an unpleasantly busy storefront on Amsterdam to a strictly online affair.
I am a music obsessive. Particularly pop. I am not a collector of obscure mono mixes (my two versions of Picture Book is arguably one too many). I just like the excitement of discovering a new band. A whole new catalogue to explore. And that happened at independent record stores. It happened at the Princeton Record Exchange when I was in high school. It happened at the then modestly scaled Waterloo Records in Austin during the late 80’s. And it happened at NYCD. But, given that there are no more real DJ’s and no more real record stores, it is not going to happen anymore. How does one trip over new music online? Should the fans just all face the ugly truth and start buying Norah Jones records at Starbucks? It was a bizarre turn of events to find me saddened to see even Tower shut its doors. As a result, with a few exceptions, I listen to the same bands I listened to a decade ago.
Now that the music industry has declared war on music, I fear the CD is in danger. There is something satisfying about an album as a thing; with art and lyrics and liner notes. I hope the new online existence goes well. But NYCD (as a thing) is missed.