A few years back I had heard the tales of Record Store Day. I have always been behind Record Stores. It started for me in High School. I can pinpoint it even further to Mr. Cauter's Music Appreciation Class, deep in the cement bowels of California High School. As a teen, I had heard rumors that this was the coolest class in town, especially for music lovers. James Cauter would take young minds through the History of Music with a large dose of Beatles due to his "Beatle Friday" segment. The highpoint would be the field trip into Berkeley to go record shopping. Cauter's objective was to expose the valley kids in suburban San Ramon to something a little deeper within the confines of the musical acquisition library, mom & pop record stores, specializing in obscure albums and cheap used records. A used record? I had never heard of this concept. At Wherehouse Records or the two mall mainstays, Rainbow Records and Musicland, you could get anything beyond the Eagles and Rick Springfield. A brand spanking new dimension for a young impressionable mind.
That trip introduced me to record stores like Rasputins, Tower Records & Leopolds along with Blondie's Pizza and Aardvarks Odd Ark. We started taking monthly trips out to Berkeley and Walnut Creek. Trying to find obsure, new wave and metal albums with all our buddies. I didn't own a car so it came down to bumming a ride with any friend who was willing to take an adventure or taking the Bus to Walnut Creek and hopping on BART and out to Berkeley. What wonderful adventures exploring new cities and new music all at the same time. I remember when we had heard about this record store called "Asta's Records" over on the other side of town off college avenue in Oakland. There we discovered their pile of weekly brought in imports from Europe. We were stoked!
The twelve inch album has always held a place close to my heart. Ever since my parents upgraded their stereo system and gave me the old 60s stereo console I was hooked (besides the radio it only played records). My brother was a new adapter, heavy into tapes and when CDs came along, he was the first one I knew of with a CD player. He toted the quality of sound and the infinite life of a CD. I poo poo'd the price and the minimal detail of information only found on an object of 12 inches. I kept buying records. I had a nice collection. That collection was halted in the 90s when corporations were not pressing LPs and the necessity of being in college, poor, and light in my travels drove me into the CD market. There I got lost.