RECORD STORE TALES #1115: The Winds of Change

My time in music retail was relatively long, considering how taxing on the soul it can be buying used music from the public on the wrong side of town.  I started in July of 1994, in a small store in a small mall in Kitchener, Ontario, called The Beat Goes On.  We sold some used, some new.  In 1996, I began managing a new store that was a slightly different format:  95% used, with a small Top 40 chart of new CDs.  I stayed there until early 2006.  12 years total, with 10 in management.  Over those 12 years, I witnessed so many changes to the way we did business.  Join me for a journey through time.

Ah, 1994.  I had just start dating a new girlfriend.  Motley Crue had come out with their John Corabi album, which was easily my favourite disc of the year.  I wore cowboy boots to my job interview with the boss man at the Record Store.  I was hired and nervously stepped behind the counter and did my first transactions.

We had a huge cash register, and still took cheques.  Credit cards were processed with one of those imprint machines that made the satisfying CHK-CHK sound when you imprinted the card.  Then began a long process of writing in dollar amounts and getting a signature.  Today, one tap and you’re done!  When we got a debit machine, it used the same phone line as the actual store phone.  When someone called the store, it would interrupt your debit transaction if you had one going.  You usually ended up with two impatient customers that way:  one on the phone and one in front of you!

Our stock was part CD and part cassette, but tapes were on their way out and we only bought and sold used CDs.  The reasoning was it was easier to check a CD for quality visually, looking for scratches.  We carried only those two formats, until one day in November 1994.  Pearl Jam came out with Vitalogy in 1994 on vinyl, two weeks before its cassette and CD releases.  The first vinyl I ever sold.  We only stocked five copies because nobody was buying vinyl back then.  We probably should have stocked 15 or 20, because we were surprised with demand.  People who didn’t even own a turntable wanted it for its collector’s value and larger artwork.

Boyz II Men were big.  TLC were bigger.  Soundgarden and Nirvana were dominating the rock charts.  My kind of music wasn’t popular and wasn’t encouraged to be played  in store.

Tastes changed rather quickly for some of these bands.  Boyz II Men made their way into the bargain.  Thence came Puff Daddy, Mase, and of course the posthumous albums by 2pac Shakur and the Notorious B.I.G.  On the rock side, upstarts like Korn, Limp Bizkit, Creed and eventually Nickleback replaced Nirvana, Soundgarden and Alice in Chains on our charts.  And then came Crazy Town, and by then, it felt like there was no coming back.  Rock was a cartoon.  A “fuck”-laden filthy cartoon.

The job behind the counter became easier.  By 1996, our inventory was computerized.  Cassettes were gone; it was 100% CD.  You could look everything up with a simple search.  Before, I had to physically search the shelves to see if we had inventory.  Of course, we soon learned that just because something pops up on the computer as in-stock, that actually means nothing.  Human error was a huge problem and I was as guilty as everyone else, if not more so!  Putting the wrong disc in a CD case upon sale was so easy to do.  Not every customer realized they bought something with the wrong CD inside, and we didn’t always get them returned.  We ended up with many missing or mis-matched CDs, and also missing cases due to mis-filing or theft.

Soon customers wanted to look things up on computer terminals by themselves.  They also wanted to see what our other stores had in stock, as the we franchised out and grew.  These complicated problems were eventually solved with a little thing called the World Wide Web.

Having internet access at the store in the year 1999 was unimaginable to me of 1994, who had never even been on the internet yet.

Of course, the advent of the internet brought with it an unforeseen danger.  Soon our very existence would be threatened.  No, I’m not talking about computer viruses or Y2k.  Those had little impact at all.  Something else did:  Napster.

Napster changed everything.  Soon we were carrying so much more than just music, to make up for the decline in sales.  Bobble heads, action figures, books, video games, headphones, and so so so so many CD wallets.  Sometimes the toys and action figures wouldn’t have anything to do with music, like the Muppets or the Simpsons.  (Those were carried because a certain regional manager personally liked those shows.)  Osbournes merch was popular.  Kiss had many different toy options available.  Metallica had a cool stage playset.  Macfarlane figures either sold out, or sat around forever.  We stopped carrying blank tapes, but had a variety of CD-Rs available instead.

I recall the boss resisted carrying CD-Rs for a while, because he thought it was counterproductive to our business of selling music on CD.  However eventually it became a case of a dam giving way to a flood.  It was “if you can’t beat ’em, join ’em” and blank CDs were now being sold by brick or spindle.  Remember bricks and spindles full of blank CDs?

We also sold CD cleaning kits and tended to stay away from snake-oil CD fixing “solutions”.   Instead, we had a couple of guys who fixed CDs with a grinder and wax in their garage.  Eventually we began fixing the discs ourselves using the same method, but actually improving upon the solution by using soap instead of wax.  I’m not sure how the original guys took that, but I’m pretty sure it wasn’t pretty at all.

Competition was always fierce.  We had an HMV store at the mall across the street from the store I managed.  We had a Cash Converters pawn shop buying and selling CDs and video games in the same plaza as us.  A few years later, a Best Buy opened next door, and their prices were often lower.  DVDs began to take up a huge share of our sales, and we now had to make room.  Additional shelving was installed.  Then we ran out of space again.  New formats like SACD and DVD-A started to infiltrate our inventory.  Things became really, really complicated compared to the store I managed in 1996.

There are a million stories.  I remember one guy buying an SACD, and coming back wanting to know why the “Super Audio” light wasn’t lighting up on his player.  How the fuck should I know?  I’d never even seen an SACD player at that point.  The guy actually wanted me to write a letter to Sony and ask them on his behalf.  Yeah, I’ll get right on that sir, after I serve you some fresh Grey Poupon on a charcuterie board.

Technology, transactions and inventory may have changed shape, but one thing never did:  the customers.

When we first opened, we had a single disc CD player and tape deck to play music in store.  There was a TV for MuchMusic, but it was usually on silent while we played CDs in store.  If a customer wanted to hear a CD, we had to open it for them and play it on the store speakers.  They’d signal me when to change tracks.  In 1996, we have six five-disc changers, each with a dedicated set of headphones, for customers to list.  We had another five-disc changer for store play, and eventually one for an outdoor speaker we had.  The six customer listening stations took a dedicated person to serve on weekends.  We had to retrieve the CDs from behind the counters and load them into the players.  We often had to assist the customer in the operation of the machines.  And they broke down, frequently.  Some days towards the end we only had two working stations at a time.

Our first store was in a mall with a licensed restaurant.  We had a few drunks.  The other stores I worked at were in strip plazas.  We had a few stoners, potheads, crackheads and gang-bangers.

Ahh, the good old days when it was just drunks!

One thing we never delved into in my time was selling CD players.  We didn’t want to dip our toes into that kind of thing.  Today, they sell turntables at my old store.  We also, strangely, never sold batteries which people frequently asked for.  I guess margins were so low it wasn’t worth it.  I never lasted long enough to see the vinyl revival happen.  We only sold a few things on vinyl in time.  The aforementioned Pearl Jam was one.  Soundgarden (Down on the Upside) was another.

The change that impacted me most had nothing to do with formats, or technology.  It didn’t matter that I now had two shelves full of Sega and Nintendo games.  The biggest change was in heirarchy behind the scenes.  I started as a part timer with one boss.  I was promoted to manager, with one boss, and several peers at other stores.  Then, suddenly, I had two bosses.  Then there were three, and the worst thing about the third is that we were all told “they’re not your boss, they’re here to help.”  That was false.  Three bosses, and there was now an in-house accountant and other periphery people that seemed to get yelled at less than I did.  I’m sure it’s clear from this story that the winds of change did not bring me happiness.  Instead they chipped away at the job I started with, and diluted the “music store” I managed into a music/movie/game/knick-knack store.  I was attending manager meetings in big hotel board rooms.  There were marketing people and franchisees, and nobody ever seemed truly happy on the inside.  110% was demanded of us, but we had no reason to be invested in what boiled down to a bad retail job that caused a lot of stress.

Nothing lasts forever but the certainty of change, and there was one change I was happy to witness:  In the late 90s, Black Sabbath reunited.  It was a happy return, though they had their trailer hitched to a nu-metal Ozzfest which wasn’t my cup of tea.  Music began to shift until one day in 1999, something truly remarkable happened.  We didn’t know how long it would last, or what the new music would sound like, but Iron Maiden reunited with Bruce Dickinson and Adrian Smith.  Judas Priest were a few years behind them, getting Rob Halford back in the band.  Suddenly, classic metal was back in a big way.  Bigger than ever.  It was not waned since.  I was happy that I got to see this process begin at the end of my days at the Store.

My boss used to say that I resisted change.  I don’t agree.  No sir.  I embraced the good stuff.  The computers, the internet, the website, fixing CDs, the abandonment of certain formats (cassettes and VHS) when they were fading away.  The things I struggled with included the diluting of the store with all these other products like video games.  I started there because I loved music.  Fortunately I also loved movies, so when DVDs began to take over a large section of the store, I was cool with that too.  When Grand Theft Auto was upon us, I had no passion.  Then came the addition of more upper management, and increased demands on our personal time and investment in the Record Store life.  Monthly manager meetings dragged on for hours.  We’d leave scratching our heads why this wasn’t just covered in emails.  We had zero autonomy and little say in what we did.  I remembered a time when I loved my job.  There was no love there anymore.

The happy ending is this.  When I quit that job, I rediscovered my passion for music.  Music was fun for me again, not just something playing in the background as I worked.

Music is joy once more.