by James Damion
As 2019's Record Store Day approached and the weeks turned
to days, I did everything in my power to convince my loving,
supportive, and determined wife that I did not want or need
to partake in such shenanigans. Still, in the end, it felt
as though she was not only interested, but determined to
go through with a plan regardless of proper and scientific
research. In the days that led up to the event, she sent
me the RSD release list and even sat down to go over my
Friday night came and after arriving home from dinner, we
set our alarms for 6:00am. In the back of my head, I imagined
either sleeping through the alarm's droning or my wife’s
flat out inability to get up that early on a weekend morning.
Surprisingly enough, neither occurred, and we were on the
road in time to arrive just two minutes after the store's
scheduled 7:00 am opening.
As we approached the store, drove past the awaiting crowd,
we had noticed that the line to get in stretched around
two corners. As we slowly drove past a crowd that included
many unshowered, unkempt, baldy longhairs, many of whom
never bothered to get out of the pajamas or sweatpants they
wore the night before. As an admitted sufferer of agoraphobia
due to my fear of crowds and one who lacks the needed patience
to stand in line, I quickly remarked, "Fuck this, let's
go get breakfast.” Without much debate, we turned
the car around and headed back to our home base where we
experienced a first, in that we were the first customers
to enter our favorite breakfast spot. After copious plates
of French toast, eggs and bacon, I was convinced to give
it another try.
Upon returning to the scene of the crime, the store had
opened and the line was now half the original size. As we
inched closer to the corner and our opportunity to enter,
we began to see customers emerge from the store with bags
spilling over with records. My wife teased me about the
store being empty of any stock, whatsoever, by the time
we finally gained entry. Still feeling anxious about our
choice to join the crowd, I couldn't help but imagine the
line that awaited inside.
When we finally did make it inside, there was indeed a line
wrapped around the first floor leading to the stairs that
brings you to all of the gleaming, shiny records. As I tried
to navigate my way to the end of the line, I not only lost
my wife, but I felt myself being swallowed by the limited-pressing
horde of vinyl junkies. However, after a few calls and texts,
we found ourselves navigating our stairway to Nerdville.
Once we got there, we quickly split up, quickly grabbing
copies of things on our list. While I was quick to scoop
up the last copy of the Devo Box Set, my wife did an exceptional
job scooping up most of what remained on the list. From
there, we headed downstairs to join the checkout line and
sped off to nearby Georgetown, where we ended our record
shopping day by indulging in Japanese styled hamburgers.
And while I promised to never get swept up in Record Store
Day mania, I can pound my chest while proclaiming "I
did that, but would never even think of doing it again."
And while I promised myself to lay off buying anymore records
for a while, I found myself in the same store just a couple
of days later.
To quote a longtime friend and music aficionado, “Going
to a record store on RSD is a little like going out drinking
on St. Patrick’s Day.”