Sunday, April 13, 2014

Music and Life at 33 1/3


From across the street, it looks like an ordinary store on a busy little street in suburban St. Louis. I could read the sign. Euclid. The name was familiar, but I hadn't been here before. This required a closer look. I crossed.







Euclid Records. Might as well. I had time to kill before an appointment. I grew up with records. 78’s. 45’s. And especially LP’s. 


I walked in. Big place. Lots of bins, shelves. Signs that said Rock and Soul and Rap and Latin. Didn't seem very promising, at least not for me. 







I noticed a landing on the right, stairs leading up, sign beckoning to me, insisting I go on up. Birdland. Jazz Corner of the World. I had spent many a night there, decades ago, time in New York hunting down jazz players and clubs. Especially the Sacred Temple of them all: Birdland. I looked at my watch. Okay, so I might be a little late for that meeting. Up I went.                                  







My first thought on looking out at the second floor was “Field of Dreams”  - an endless field of vinyl.Build it and they will come. And I was there. Not on this Thursday. Not on this day in March of 2014. But on a day when I still lived at home, dad at the shoe store, mom shopping or at the beauty parlor, my brother playing baseball. And I had my record collection. Dozens of LP’s at first, then hundreds, finally three thousand.






The great names lived here in Euclid, side by side from Armstrong through Zavinul. Albums I had once owned, wished I still had, except not enough space.

Names like Gerry Mulligan, Benny Goodman, Mose Allison, Jazz at the Phil, Oscar, Brubeck, Duke, Monk, Stan, Miles, MJQ. My field of dreams with all the legends waiting there to be picked up, their jackets read, the black vinyl slipped out, carefully laid on the turntable, needle lowered, then sit back, dig the sounds, and read the liner notes. Until they were memorized. The recording dates, the musicians at each and every position, the tunes and composers and length of the cut, bits of history or back story, photos in black and white.


I wanted to meet the person in charge of these treasures. Probably the same guy that bought my 3000 albums a dozen years ago. A door near the top of the steps said “Office.” I knocked. “C’mon in,” he said. I did. Just as I hoped: his office was a mini-museum. 

Joe Schwab, the owner, looked up from his computer while I told him I had an idea about writing something for my blog. We talked, about jazz and the record business and Euclid Records. The wall behind him was covered with jazz photos, many of them, he told me, taken at Peacock Alley, the fabled jazz club in midtown St. Louis during the 50’s, before The City tore down all the historic old buildings for some civic progress concept.

A short conversation with Joe, then I walked back, meandered down the aisles, picked up an occasional album, its weight and shape so familiar to my hands. Old friends waiting to be heard once again. They say you can't go home again. Sure, you can. At Euclid Records. At least for me. And other record stores that know the value of jazz lp's. 

Yes, there are time machines. They travel at 33 1/3 revolutions per minute. They can take you back fifty years and more, as clean as a whistle, as clear as a dear friend’s face. As pure as a tenor sax solo.

9 comments:

  1. Gerry--My husband got me a turntable for Christmas, and that familiar "hiss" that goes along with vinyl (maybe that's not an apt description of the sound, but it's the best I could do) instantly transported me back to my teenage years.

    I'll have to check out Euclid Records. (I grew up with Peaches Records, and walking in there, surrounded by nothing but records, was like heaven on earth...)

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    1. I remember Peaches, though it came along late in my LP life. You're right... heaven on earth... especially in retrospect. Maybe you can go home again.

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  2. Hi Ger, I still remember my Aunt Sylvia taking me, at age 7 in 1964, to Sam Goody's in suburban New York to buy my first ever LP, The Beatles SOMETHING NEW! I still have it to this day.

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    1. Funny how so many of us still have that very first LP. It's a link back to a happy time, at least that's how I remember it. You started off on a high level: The Beatles. Great intro to vinyl.

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  3. Nice piece, Gerr. I once read the description of the sound one hears upon placing the needle on a well-worn LP as "frying bacon". That sound still conjures up in me that momentary, brief anticipation for whatever it is that will then be playing, whether it's Hey Jude on an old Apple 45 or some classical piece on Angel. CD's (or even worse) digital downloads aren't the same, nor will they ever be ... Joe Delmore

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    1. It seems so many things were purer, better, prior to the digital age. I like your brief anticipation state of mind... I remember it well. And there was no random play... after awhile, we knew what the next song was before the previous one had ended, right?

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  4. Nice treasure you shared, thanks.

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  5. Delighted to see this posting, and I adore Joe Schwab. He was a regular advertiser in my 90s zine, Night Times, and he used to call me up now and then and tell me about some obscure Matthew Sweet or Radiohead CD that came in. It is a special record store that knows what its customers want and sets it aside for them.

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    1. Good to hear your thoughts, Julia. Places like Euclid should be named National Monuments... more important to our culture than another bronze statue to some forgotten general in the park.

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