Somewhere in the middle of a recent hip-hop post, Tom Briehan offered up some observations about the closing Tower stores, comparing them to graveyards and talking about the entertaining resigned relaxedness of the remaining Tower employees. Thinking about these reflections as I approached my NYC** Tower I was finally curious enough to go inside. Also, the condemnation sign in the window reading "Last 10 Days" assured me that although there were bound to be a few tempting items left for purchase, I wouldn't be walking into a probable spending spree (at discount, but still...).
**Note: There is a Tower on LI that has always been my record store, and it's going to tear me up to return home and see that corner storefront gutted.
A couple of today's Tower Records discount deals:
1. Every rap album costs $1.
2. Every CD is 60% off.
As a result:
1. There is not a single recognizable rap album left on the shelf (I dare you to try and find one.).
2. It's pretty slim pickins in the rock and pop department. Think “Glitter.”
I spent about twenty minutes walking up and down the rock and pop aisles, searching for records I had been meaning to listen to, essentials that were missing from my collection, or anything super-random to try blind for 5 bucks. A lot of the discs that were left were of bands I didn't recognize. Some newer bands with start-up followings had CD's left on the shelves as well. There were no Beatles albums - I'm sure those were the first to fly off the shelves. There were, however, about twenty copies of Blind Melon. Tower's liquidation sale is a popularity/longevity test for all acts in the music industry. If you've really made it (by industry standards), your CDs are gone by now.
I did manage to find a few things to buy as did my lady Lilly, who had great luck in the World section. I imagine pawing through the Foreign Film section upstairs would have proven fruitful as well, but after my thorough scouring of the first floor I was satisfied with my selection, having salvaged four newish albums for the bargain price of 30 dollars. Lilly copped 3 for 10. Ridiculous. My new acquisitions included:
1. Serena Maneesh - Self-titled (Heard a shiteload about this band and their awesome live show, but never got around to 'em. They're loud! And Norwegian!)
2. Grandaddy - Just Like the Fambly Cat (I heart this band, who happen to be the inspiration for one of my all-time favorite rock concert posters. I don’t know how I wasn’t aware they dropped a new album this year. Issue resolved.)
3. Matthew Friedberger – Winter Women/Holy Ghost Language School (A double-disc. Probably would have stayed on my “To Buy” list for a while if it wasn’t so discounted, since I just this month got around to Bitter Tea. Was $19 before discount. Matt’s the expensive sibling.)
4. Puffy Ami Yumi - Splurge (My wild card, and an awesome one at that. Two Japanese chicks who have their own cartoon show and make bubbly rock and pop tunes. After reading a little about the album tonight I was reminded that the group was formed via a major label machine and everything they do is marketed with a ferocity meant to trigger Hello Kitty-style saturation. Inexplicably, I find this to be sort of endearing. Puffy – the group added the “Ami Yumi” when they released in the US to prevent confusion with Puffys of the Diddy variety – have a bunch of big names guesting on this album (Jon Spencer, Butch Walker) and I can’t imagine I will feel anything but love and butterflies and animated kisses for these girls. Also, I have to go to Tokyo, STAT.)
Some other things I noted while perusing the emaciated CD racks (also on sale for $39.95, I believe) at the Tower on Broadway:
Album I half-expected to be around and would definitely have purchased if it had been available: Rod Stewart's Greatest Hits. (Sadly, Lincoln Center is rife with Fans of Rod.)
Disc I was amazed to see still sitting on the shelf: A lone copy of Radiohead - OK Computer.
Which was especially pathetic considering: All copies of Paris Hilton’s album were gone.
So Tower dies in ten days. A chain store I can actually support bites the freaking dust.
Meanwhile, I'm sitting now in the 4th, yes 4th, Starbucks I attempted to work in this evening, the first three -
1. In the Barnes and Nobles on Broadway at 82nd Street
2. At the corner of Broadway and 80th
3. On Columbus at 78th
- being so densely populated, future table occupation seemed like a distant, tall, skim, foam-covered dream. But since there is a Starbucks every two blocks in this city, I have for the last three hours occupied a piece of prime real estate in the Starbucks on Broadway and 75th at the largest table in the place, right next to the front window, a power outlet conveniently within reach.
If only Tower Records had thought to put in some for-pay wi-fi. I totally would have toted my laptop to the record store before camping out for hours among sweatered teddy bears, cheesy Christmas compilations and the odor of burnt, drip coffee.
But alas...
On another sad liquidation note, one of my favorite UWS boutiques, Lord of the Fleas, is closing at the end of the month. LOTF was one of those lifesaver joints where you could get a plain black tank top (that you would wear under EVERYTHING) for twelve bucks, any time of the year. It was also home to funky, completely affordable dresses, jewelry and other accessories that would really dig you out of a hole when, say, you decide you hate everything in your closet and have nothing to wear the day before your company holiday party.
Please afford me this tangent to say that I am not by any means ungrateful or unappreciative of my employer's holiday party planning efforts, HOWEVER -
Tomorrow's holiday party is at Wollman Rink in Central Park. The company is setting up a tent outside of the rink and serving food that "will not be hamburgers and hot dogs." And of course, my coworkers and I will have the option to hit the ice, although I have a feeling some of my cohorts will refuse to allow me to exercise the option NOT to fall flat on my ass in front of all the people I see on a daily basis.
I don't particularly enjoy ice skating, and I'm not super-thrilled about spending three hours in a tent, but what really disappoints me about this setup is mostly the limits placed on my holiday party ensemble by the party location and activity. Since this jam is outside, I have to dress for the weather to a certain extent. And avoid heels just in case we are standing on grass or "dirt" as one coworker predicted. Also, I have to dress for maximum mobility so I have a fighting chance at remaining erect on the rink. This sadly means I can't wear my original outfit as planned:
So I'm reverting to my backup ensemble, which better suits the circumstances:
At least I don't have to give up the glitter.
Since Lord of the Fleas, having been in close-out mode for the last few weeks, was fresh out of matching gold leg warmers, I settled on snagging a gentleman-inspired, brushed blue leather vest to inject new life into my wardrobe. Not quite ice worthy (well, perhaps if worn by Rudy Galindo with some shiny, ball-hugging leggings), but for 22 bucks, a killer find and fashionable parting purchase from an underappreciated UWS gem. I’m sad to see the place go down.
When it all comes down to it, some businesses really do need our dollars and continual support.
So go to Tower Records. Try to find a hip-hop album in that massive stack of one-dollar wackness, and if nothing appeals to you, take your buck to the deli next door and put it towards a forty. Go out to the sidewalk and let some liquor spill to the ground for the death of an era. Then plug in your iPod, click on Ghostface, and move on.
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