Chaos and Clarity Final

It is hard to define what makes jazz truly jazz. In the most technical sense, it blends African rhythm with Western harmonic and melodic composition, flavored with improvisation to create a multi-cultural soup of sound.  It is organized chaos.

The same often applies to bands looking to perform jazz. A contingent of Kalamazoo College’s own jazz band is soon to embark on a tour to Numazu, Japan this summer, but the unpredictable life of college has left the band in a state of disarray.

Numazu is Kalamazoo’s sister city. Every ten years, Kalamazoo sends a delegation in order to symbolize the relations between the two towns. Ten years ago, on the 40^th anniversary of the partnership, Kalamazoo included a small portion of the college jazz band in the 50-man group to add artistic diversity to the mix. Now, on the 50^th anniversary, the same is happening. The band is embarking on a two-week tour around the city with the delegation in mid-July.

The group itself has fluctuated in the weeks since the announcement of the trip. The current lineup includes Aaron Parach, K ’13; Margaux Reckard, K ’13; Curtis Gough, K ’14; Chris Monsour, K ’16; Mark Niskanen, WMU ’13; and Dr. Tom Evans, the director of the jazz band. In the few weeks that have passed, two other members had to decline for finance and internships: Joe Barth, K ’13; and Andy Galimberti, K ’14, respectively.

This created a need to refill the lineup, which has only introduced more complications. Only three members of the touring band remain on campus until a month before the trip: Parach, Gough, and Monsour. Niskanen, the band’s pianist, is currently in New York City playing at clubs. Reckard, the trumpeter, is in Ohio working. Evans, the trombonist, is touring Italy for a month. The lack of cohesive presence is putting a damper on the group’s progress until a short time before the trip.

“The actual trip itself I’m incredibly excited about,” Gough says. “with some good friends of mine, which will be fun, but this whole thing has been kind of crazy; it’s been kind of hectic. I’ve never felt like I’ve had a good grasp of what is going on.”

When the remainder of the band does come together, though, it’s not for lack of effort on their part.

Their rehearsal space is the band room of the Fine Arts Building. For a three-man group, the space is overwhelmingly empty, a constant reminder of their missing members. Chairs and stands litter the floor-space, but Parach, Gough, and Mounsour clear out a small corner near the kit to have a jam session.

Aaron honks out a short riff on his tenor sax while Curtis and Chris set up their bass and kit, respectively. While Curtis is still hooking up his amplifier, Chris starts to wail on his drums. Primarily a metal drummer, his introduction to jazz this year has posed as a learning experience; listening is a key part to any jazz performance, and subtlety reigns above all else. Aaron touted communication as the most important part of their preparation, especially with all the missing members.

“We’re just going to try and speak the same language,” he said. “or, you know, at least a similar language so we’re on the same ear.”

And as soon as Aaron jumps back in, Chris immediately alters his bass-heavy flailing to a more laid-back funk beat, matching the feel of the line Aaron was playing before. While the rest of the band is gone, they’re trying to establish a more cohesive group. What that means when the rest come back, though, is uncertain.

“Mark is the most serious of us, and he really has an academic approach to jazz,” Aaron says. “Curty and I sort of grew up around it, and so we just jam. Chris has got that heavy metal thing, and it’s been really cool to bring his heavy metal into jazz rather than deny it altogether.”

Mark has had the most jazz experience out of the bunch, a jazz studies student at Western, but that leaves Margaux and Tom. This is a worry for the members in Kalamazoo for different reasons.

“Tom, he’s got his classical setup, and he’s a good player. He just needs permission, in a way, to play jazz. We’ve been pushing him out of his comfort zone,” Aaron says. “Margaux, you know she’s just rock-steady. She’s going to be here the least, which is a bit worrying because we have a lot of stuff that we’ve developed together that she hasn’t seen.”

Margaux, who has just returned from her job in Ohio, hasn’t had the opportunity to get together with the group since she had left.

“I feel completely unprepared,” Margaux says. “That being said, I think the rest of the group also feels completely unprepared. Scheduling rehearsal times, extra rehearsal times is really difficult, and, you know, Tom is in another country.”

“However, I think it will be totally fine, and that we’re all skilled enough musicians that we’ll figure something out, and even with a few rehearsals we’ll make something sound respectable,” she says.

Aaron and Chris continue with their jam, and Curtis joins in. He picks up on the progression by ear, and he lays down a funky line to support Aaron. With a fully functioning trio, albeit a minimalistic one, the three mesh flawlessly in the music. The only thing that is left is the unwavering uncertainty that permeates the atmosphere, but soon even that is drowned out by the groove.

Aaron is first to break out into the solo section: a simple twelve-bar blues progression, the staple of every jazz musician. Chris adopts a minimal beat, trying to ebb and flow with Aaron’s use of dynamics and rhythm, which Curtis almost immediately follows. As Aaron brings his ideas into a fevered, rhythmically intensive groove, the others adapt on the fly, their communication only indicated by a couple of nods and smiles.

They trade around for about fifteen minutes until Aaron gets the nod to go back to the head. He runs through it twice, and without any prior rehearsal, they manage to end in sync. Chris finishes with a fill, giving a subtle waver in his rhythm to signal the final note to Aaron and Curtis. While the rest of the ensemble is away, these three have almost perfected their chemistry.

This leaves the uncertainty of the coming months. While the three are practicing in the meantime, there is still the order of coming up with a full set. They’re playing a couple of standards, including “Equinox” by John Coltrane and “Close Your Eyes”, an arrangement of Mark’s. The rest is planned to be taken out of fake-books, collections of simplified arrangements, often including just the melodies and chord progressions. The rest is left up to interpretation by the musicians themselves. They have the songs, but the matter of getting the full group together still brings a sense of uneasiness to the members in Kalamazoo. Even so, they seem to be taking it as a lesson in jazz.

“It’s kind of a mess, the whole situation,” Aaron says. “but there’s clarity and chaos. We’ll figure it out.”

Clarity and Chaos draft reflection

Hmm. Where to start?

I think that the toughest part of this so far is to find a focus of the piece. At first glance, I knew that this would be better off as a longer-term narrative, so as to capture the full process, but the time constraints of the project sort-of limit that. That said, I then tried to focus on the branch of musicians that were actually in Kalamazoo, as their process of preparation for the tour while the other members were gone sounded really interesting. As for the actual reportage, I still have to get longer interviews with both Curtis and Chris. I was able to get a long interview with Aaron since our schedules worked well together, but thus far it's been hard to get solid interviews with the other two, and what I have from them thus far wasn't really worth putting in quotes, so I hope to get some more material for that. It's been fun, though, especially as it involves sitting (well, standing, as I was taking pictures for the final project) and listening and observing their mannerisms as they jam.

Otherwise, I think another issue to me was one of structure. The main action was their jam session, and so it was difficult to intersperse quotes for additional information without completely breaking the flow of the piece, which I still don't think I have quite right. Some feedback on that would definitely be appreciated on my end.

Clarity and Chaos

It is hard to define what makes jazz truly jazz. In the most technical sense, it blends African rhythm with Western harmonic and melodic composition, flavored with improvisation to create a multi-cultural soup of sound.  It is organized chaos.

The same often applies to bands looking to perform jazz. A contingent of Kalamazoo College’s own jazz band is soon to embark on a tour to Numazu, Japan this summer, but the unpredictable life of college has left the band in a state of disarray.

The group itself has fluctuated in the weeks since the announcement of the trip. The current lineup includes Aaron Parach, K ’13; Margaux Reckard, K ’13; Curtis Gough, K ’14; Chris Monsour, K ’16; Mark Niskanen, WMU ’13; and Dr. Tom Evans, the director of the jazz band. In the few weeks that have passed, two other members had to decline for finance and internships: Joe Barth, K ’13; and Andy Galimberti, K ’14, respectively.

This created a need to refill the lineup, which has only introduced more complications. Only three members of the touring band remain on campus until a month before the trip: Parach, Gough, and Monsour. Niskanen, the band’s pianist, is currently in New York City playing at clubs. Reckard, the trumpeter, is in Ohio working. Evans, the trombonist, is touring Italy for a month. The lack of cohesive presence is putting a damper on the group’s progress until a short time before the trip.

When the remainder of the band does come together, though, it’s not for lack of effort on their part.

Their rehearsal space is the band room of the Fine Arts Building. For a three-man group, the space is overwhelmingly empty, a constant reminder of their missing members. Chairs and stands litter the floor-space, but Parach, Gough, and Mounsour clear out a small corner near the kit to have a jam session.

Aaron honks out a short riff on his tenor sax while Curtis and Chris set up their bass and kit, respectively. While Curtis is still hooking up his amplifier, Chris starts to wail on his drums. Primarily a metal drummer, his introduction to jazz this year has posed as a learning experience; listening is a key part to any jazz performance, and subtlety reigns above all else. Aaron touted communication as the most important part of their preparation, especially with all the missing members.

“We’re just going to try and speak the same language,” he said. “or, you know, at least a similar language so we’re on the same ear.”

And as soon as Aaron jumps back in, Chris immediately alters his bass-heavy flailing to a more laid-back funk beat, matching the feel of the line Aaron was playing before. While the rest of the band is gone, they’re trying to establish a more cohesive group. What that means when the rest come back, though, is uncertain.

“Mark is the most serious of us, and he really has an academic approach to jazz,” Aaron says. “Curty and I sort of grew up around it, and so we just jam. Chris has got that heavy metal thing, and it’s been really cool to bring his heavy metal into jazz rather than deny it altogether.”

Mark has had the most jazz experience out of the bunch, a jazz studies student at Western, but that leaves Margaux and Tom. This is a worry for the members in Kalamazoo for different reasons.

“Tom, he’s got his classical setup, and he’s a good player. He just needs permission, in a way, to play jazz. We’ve been pushing him out of his comfort zone,” Aaron says. “Margaux, you know she’s just rock-steady. She’s going to be here the least, which is a bit worrying because we have a lot of stuff that we’ve developed together that she hasn’t seen.”

Aaron and Chris continue with their jam, and Curtis joins in. He picks up on the progression by ear, and he lays down a funky line to support Aaron. With a fully functioning trio, albeit a minimalistic one, the three mesh flawlessly in the music. The only thing that is left is the unwavering uncertainty that permeates the atmosphere, but soon even that is drowned out by the groove.

Aaron is first to break out into the solo section: a simple twelve-bar blues progression, the staple of every jazz musician. Chris adopts a minimal beat, trying to ebb and flow with Aaron’s use of dynamics and rhythm, which Curtis almost immediately follows. As Aaron brings his ideas into a fevered, rhythmically intensive groove, the others adapt on the fly, their communication only indicated by a couple of nods and smiles.

They trade around for about fifteen minutes until Aaron gets the nod to go back to the head. He runs through it twice, and without any prior rehearsal, they manage to end in sync. Chris finishes with a fill, giving a subtle waver in his rhythm to signal the final note to Aaron and Curtis. While the rest of the ensemble is away, these three have almost perfected their chemistry.

This leaves the uncertainty of the coming months. While the three are practicing in the meantime, there is still the order of coming up with a full set. They’re playing a couple of standards, including “Equinox” by John Coltrane and “Close Your Eyes”, an arrangement of Mark’s. They have the songs, but the matter of getting the full group together still brings a sense of uneasiness to the members in Kalamazoo. Even so, they seem to be taking it as a lesson in jazz.

“It’s kind of a mess, the whole situation,” Aaron says. “but there’s clarity and chaos. We’ll figure it out.”

Show and Tell?

Well, here's my link: http://pdf.washingtonian.com/pdf/mccabe.pdf

It's called "Like Something the Lord Made," and it's Katie McCabe's more-or-less posthumous profile of Vivien Thomas, a (or perhaps the) pioneer in cardiac surgery during a time of great racial tension. I think the thing that I like most about this piece is how simple it is. McCabe has a way of including great detail with great simplicity, much like Thomas' pragmatism in the lab. A bit of her profile is taken both from his autobiography and from those who knew of him, but I think that plays heavily into the function of narrative to define a person. I liked it.

The Little Shop on the Corner

In a little plaza on the side of West Main sits a nondescript store. In the back corner, tucked in between an Indian restaurant and a “Check Cashing” store, is Kalamazoo’s own Corner Record Shop. It’s indistinguishable from the other lots with the exception of their sign, a peculiar shade of blue that glares against the brilliant gold of Payday Loans. Based on its location lack of visible advertisement, no one would know that it is one of the premier record stores in the city.

If you venture closer to the store, the windows tell a different story.  Myriad band posters adorn the glass; they advertise shows past and future, in sync with the vibrant underground music scene of Kalamazoo. There’s a CD release party, a touring band, beloved local rock and hip hop, and many more. If it’s music in Kalamazoo, then it’s probably posted here. Compared to the street view, approaching the entrance breathes life into the otherwise bland plaza.

I entered the store, and it was totally empty save for a strawberry-blonde haired and bearded man looking intently at his computer behind the counter.

“Give me just a second,” he said. “A customer is looking for a really specific recording of ‘Porgy and Bess.’ They wanted the one with Sidney Poitier and Dorothy Dandridge. They might just be out of luck.”

He mentioned that there were about a thousand different recordings of the show. Every jazz musician had to do it.

As he continued, I wondered about the customer base of the store. The front room holds a couple of racks of CDs and DVDs, but the back section contained rows upon rows of vinyl, both used and new. The big releases were on the walls, everything from ACDC to the Beatles to Jay-Z to Tom Waits. How does a store that relies almost solely on vinyl survive, especially in the era of digital distribution?

The man behind the counter briefly gave up his search. “Do you need anything?” He asked.

“Nothing in particular,” I replied. “I did have a couple questions for you about your shop, though, if I could come by later for an interview.”

He looked around the store and chuckled. “Well, it seems pretty quiet here to me. I could talk to you now, if you want.”

This was Sean Hartman, the co-manager of the business.

I introduced myself and explained that I was doing a profile on the shop. Record stores are becoming so rare, especially in the age of digital distribution. “How is the business doing with almost solely vinyl sales?” I asked.

“Like, uh, supposedly vinyl right now is the fastest growing area in the music industry,” he said. “It’s still very much a niche market compared to traditional sales and things like that, but we have been seeing a trend in the five years since we’ve been open.”

Even so, who tends to buy vinyl anymore? With the dawn of digital media, physical copies of albums are becoming increasingly limited to past collections.

He gave a shrug. “We’re just sitting tight right now to see how things go in the next couple of months with all the college students leaving.”

I should have figured. I myself have a sizeable vinyl collection, mostly due to the fact that their used vinyls are around a dollar a pop. You can’t beat those prices as a college student, especially when popular songs on iTunes will run about two dollars each. However, newer or rarer pressings will generally run you between 20-30 bucks.

“So what exactly is your market?” I asked. In my travels to and from the store, I had very rarely seen people perusing the racks. It must have just been poor timing on my part.

“It’s kind of across the board, too. There’s a lot of younger people that get into it, um, which include college students moving into town and realizing that records are available,” he said. “Even younger, high school, middle school kids are getting into it.”

The store itself exudes the classic record store appeal. Tour posters and classic albums surround the customers, and both a turntable and a cassette player sit in the corner, playing local gems and classics alike. I could see where that would draw in the younger crowd; it’s a beacon of the underground music scene. Occasionally, the smell of incense wafts through the racks, a pleasing spice that lends itself to the relaxed atmosphere. They just want you to enjoy the music as much as they do.

Sean drawled on about how there is a marked older crowd that frequents the store as well. “[They], like, left their record player in the basement years ago, and then forgot about it and are bringing it back. They realize that they can still buy all the cool records.”

We got back to the topic of the summer. “You were looking to see how sales were going to do over the summer with students leaving, right?” I asked. “Do you think it will have that much of an effect?”

He leaned on the counter as the door chime rang. A couple, probably in their late twenties, walked in to peruse the CD collection. “Is there anything I can help you with?” Sean asked.

The man silently gave him a shake of the head, and they continued to browse. They only stayed for a couple minutes and exited as silently as they arrived.

Sean walked back to the other side of the counter where I was standing. “With this being a college town, at least fifty percent of our business is college-aged people, and when they head out of town for the summer, it decreases our market a lot.”

“Well, I noticed that you guys have a lot of show advertisements here,” I said. “Do you use these to draw people in?”

Sean used to book bands for the Strutt, and so he utilized that to the advantage of the shop. “Well, yesterday started a series where we’re going to be doing live jazz every Sunday.”

“Really?” My interest was piqued. It looks like I have a show to catch to see who all shows up.  

Sunday quickly approached, and come 2 o’clock, I wandered up to the store. It was a cold and dreary day, especially odd given that it was mid-May. Gray clouds crested the hill as I walked, and I couldn’t help wonder if anyone would actually be there.

As I got to the shop, it seemed especially quiet. There were no noticeable sounds booming through the windows, and the area by the counter looked deserted. Did they end up closing early?

However, as I wandered to the back of the shop, there were stacks of speakers near the stockroom, but there were no sounds, save for some Earth, Wind, and Fire softly wafting around the store.

In the very back, however, sat a different man than Sean, but he was staring intently at it just as I had run into Sean. He wore a blue and red track jacket over a plain white tee-shirt, and his cap was angled down, so I couldn’t see his face.

“Hello?” I said to him. “I was wondering if you guys were still having that live show.”

He looked up at me. He might have been in his late 30’s to early 40’s, and he had a kind, but weathered face.

“Well, the band hasn’t showed up, and I can’t reach Sean at all,” he said with a disgruntled tone. “Sean was the one that booked them, and I don’t have any of their numbers. I can’t do a thing but wait right now.”

I was curious to see how this could happen. No-shows do happen, but I was amazed to see how little communication there was between the staff, especially with something like a live performance.

“Yeah, I’m just sitting tight here for a while,” he continued. “It’s odd how quiet it is today. We usually have a decent turnout on Sundays.”

“It might be because it’s Mother’s Day?” I said.

He nodded at me. “See, I thought it was just because it was cold and gray out today, but that might be it. People are taking their moms and grandmoms out for dinner,” he joked.

As an afterthought, I introduced myself, and explained why I was there. “I talked to Sean last Monday, and I was really hoping that something would be happening here,” I said. “Sean was telling me that you guys were looking at a slow summer. Does that affect you that much? How do you guys keep going with days like this?”

“Oh, I’m Flip. I’m the other co-manager here,” he said. He chuckled at me. “Yeah, today’s especially slow. One person must have wandered in in the last couple hours.”

He continued. “Well, with the way it’s been looking, it’s going to be a very slow summer. We had Record Store Day a couple of weeks ago, and the turnout was killer. We had people lined up out the door and around the corner.”

Record Store Day is a day for independent record stores to collaborate with local artists and celebrate record store culture. There are new releases, full stock, and a chance for locals to hear music and get some fresh tunes. Even so, I was surprised to hear that so many people showed when I had never seen more than five people in the store at once.

“Mostly because of days like that, we get enough business to go for a while. Sean and I couldn’t even move from the registers all day,” he said.

“Does it really make that much of a difference?” I asked.

He laughed and said, “Yeah, we were busy all day. You can’t beat that.”

It struck me as odd that single days like that could sustain them for that long, but they’ve been in business for almost five years already, with no signs of stopping. I took his word for it. Even though no one has seemed to have heard of this place, and even though I never seem to run into anyone there, but they seem to be doing pretty alright. I guess you really can’t beat that.

The Events of October response

Well, I should preface this with the fact that, overall, I enjoyed the book. I think the structuring of the narrative led to a great tension in reading, which, combined with prior knowledge of the focus, was highly effective in drawing me into the narrative itself. It seemed to plod along for the first hundred-or-so pages, which was making me anxious as I read. While a slow pace might not fit other types of narratives, I think it coupled with the subject matter well enough to make the read both engrossing and tortuous (which wasn't necessarily a bad thing).

However, I was slightly jarred by the language used by the author in the book. Most narratives are indicative of what a reader would imagine the author's true "voice" to be, and the use of almost "academic English" slightly put me off. While the structure of the overall narrative was wonderful to me, at times this overly flowery language didn't seem like it fit.

Just as an example, one of the passages describing Frelon read, "the dance itself is the genre that annoys me in every Frelon, an unimaginative reiteration of that brand of intense, sexually charged dancing that students imbibe from TV and think is edgy"(54).  Besides the redundant use of "dance," it is this sort of language, where the thought of ending with a preposition is a cardinal sin, that threw me off an otherwise smooth read.

I personally do not know Gail Griffin, having never taken a class with her or even run into her around campus. I cannot say that I know how she speaks, and that may truly be her "voice." That said, it begs the question: even if a more academic tone is your (or the author's) natural voice, is it still fitting to be placed with in a narrative? Should that be altered to provide a more smooth narrative?

These were but a couple of my own thoughts on the piece, and as much as I'd love to ramble on and on about it, I do believe I shall leave the rest for class discussion.

Profile Edit #2

In a little plaza on the side of West Main sits a nondescript store. In the back corner, tucked in between an Indian restaurant and a “Check Cashing” store, is Kalamazoo’s own Corner Record Shop. It’s indistinguishable from the other lots with the exception of their sign, a peculiar shade of blue that glares against the brilliant gold of Payday Loans. Based on its location lack of visible advertisement, no one would know that it is one of the premier record stores in the city.

If you venture closer to the store, the windows tell a different story. A myriad of band posters adorn the glass, advertising shows past and future, in sync with the vibrant underground music scene of Kalamazoo. There’s a CD release party, a touring band, beloved local rock and hip hop, and many more. If it’s music in Kalamazoo, then it’s probably posted here. Compared to the street view, approaching the entrance breathes life into the otherwise bland plaza.

I entered the store, and it was totally empty save for a strawberry-blonde haired and bearded man looking intently at his computer behind the counter.

“Give me just a second,” he said. “A customer is looking for a really specific recording of ‘Porgy and Bess.’ They wanted the one with Sidney Poitier and Dorothy Dandridge. They might just be out of luck.”

He mentioned that there were about a thousand different recordings of the show. Every jazz musician had to do it.

As he continued, I wondered about the customer base of the store. The front room holds a couple of racks of CDs and DVDs, but the back section contained rows upon rows of vinyl, both used and new. The big releases were on the walls, everything from ACDC to the Beatles to Jay-Z to Tom Waits. How does a store that relies almost solely on vinyl survive, especially in the era of digital distribution?

The man behind the counter briefly gave up his search. “Do you need anything?” He asked.

“Nothing in particular,” I replied. “I did have a couple questions for you about your shop, though, if I could come by later for an interview.”

He looked around the store and chuckled. “Well, it seems pretty quiet here to me. I could talk to you now, if you want.”

This was Sean Hartman, the co-manager of the business.

I introduced myself and explained that I was doing a profile on the shop. Record stores are becoming so rare, especially in the age of digital distribution. “How is the business doing with almost solely vinyl sales?” I asked.

“Like, uh, supposedly vinyl right now is the fastest growing area in the music industry,” he said. “It’s still very much a niche market compared to traditional sales and things like that, but we have been seeing a trend in the five years since we’ve been open.”

Even so, who tends to buy vinyl anymore? With the dawn of digital media, physical copies of albums are becoming increasingly limited to past collections.

He gave a shrug. “We’re just sitting tight right now to see how things go in the next couple of months with all the college students leaving.”

I should have figured. I myself have a sizeable vinyl collection, mostly due to the fact that their used vinyls are around a dollar a pop. You can’t beat those prices as a college student, especially when popular songs on iTunes will run about two dollars each.

“So what exactly is your market?” I asked. In my travels to and from the store, I had very rarely seen people perusing the racks. It must have just been poor timing on my part.

“It’s kind of across the board, too. There’s a lot of younger people that get into it, um, which include college students moving into town and realizing that records are available,” he said. “Even younger, high school, middle school kids are getting into it.”

The store itself exudes the classic record store appeal. Tour posters and classic albums surround the customers, and both a turntable and a cassette player sit in the corner, playing local gems and classics alike. I could see where that would draw in the younger crowd; it’s a beacon of the underground music scene. Occasionally, the smell of incense wafts through the racks, a pleasing spice that lends itself to the relaxed atmosphere. They just want you to enjoy the music as much as they do.

Sean drawled on about how there is a marked older crowd that frequents the store as well. “[They], like, left their record player in the basement years ago, and then forgot about it and are bringing it back. They realize that they can still buy all the cool records.”

We got back to the topic of the summer. “You were looking to see how sales were going to do over the summer with students leaving, right?” I asked. “Do you think it will have that much of an effect?”

He leaned on the counter as the door chime rang. A couple, probably in their late twenties, walked in to peruse the CD collection. “Is there anything I can help you with?” Sean asked.

The man silently gave him a shake of the head, and they continued to browse. They only stayed for a couple minutes and exited as silently as they arrived.

Sean walked back to the other side of the counter where I was standing. “With this being a college town, at least fifty percent of our business is college-aged people, and when they head out of town for the summer, it decreases our market a lot.”

“Well, I noticed that you guys have a lot of show advertisements here,” I said. “Do you use these to draw people in?”

Sean used to book bands for the Strutt, and so he utilized that to the advantage of the shop. “Well, yesterday started a series where we’re going to be doing live jazz every Sunday.”

“Really?” My interest was piqued. It looks like I have a show to catch to see who all shows up.  

Sunday quickly approached, and come 2 o’clock, I wandered up to the store. It was a cold and dreary day, especially odd given that it was mid-May. Gray clouds crested the hill as I walked, and I couldn’t help wonder if anyone would actually be there.

As I got to the shop, it seemed especially quiet. There were no noticeable sounds booming through the windows, and the area by the counter looked deserted. Did they end up closing early?

However, as I wandered to the back of the shop, there were stacks of speakers near the stockroom, but there were no sounds, save for some Earth, Wind, and Fire softly wafting around the store.

In the very back, however, sat a different man than Sean, but he was staring intently at it just as I had run into Sean. He wore a blue and red track jacket over a plain white tee-shirt, and his cap was angled down, so I couldn’t see his face.

“Hello?” I said to him. “I was wondering if you guys were still having that live show.”

He looked up at me. He might have been in his late 30’s to early 40’s, and he had a kind, but weathered face.

“Well, the band hasn’t showed up, and I can’t reach Sean at all,” he said with a disgruntled tone. “Sean was the one that booked them, and I don’t have any of their numbers. I can’t do a thing but wait right now.”

I was curious to see how this could happen. No-shows do happen, but I was amazed to see how little communication there was between the staff, especially with something like a live performance.

“Yeah, I’m just sitting tight here for a while,” he continued. “It’s odd how quiet it is today. We usually have a decent turnout on Sundays.”

“It might be because it’s Mother’s Day?” I said.

He nodded at me. “See, I thought it was just because it was cold and gray out today, but that might be it. People are taking their moms and grandmoms out for dinner,” he joked.

As an afterthought, I introduced myself, and explained why I was there. “I talked to Sean last Monday, and I was really hoping that something would be happening here,” I said. “Sean was telling me that you guys were looking at a slow summer. Does that affect you that much? How do you guys keep going with days like this?”

“Oh, I’m Flip. I’m the other co-manager here,” he said. He chuckled at me. “Yeah, today’s especially slow. One person must have wandered in in the last couple hours.”

He continued. “Well, with the way it’s been looking, it’s going to be a very slow summer. We had Record Store Day a couple of weeks ago, and the turnout was killer. We had people lined up out the door and around the corner.”

Record Store Day is a day for independent record stores to collaborate with local artists and celebrate record store culture. There are new releases, full stock, and a chance for locals to hear music and get some fresh tunes. Even so, I was surprised to hear that so many people showed, when I had never seen more than five people in the store at once.

“Mostly because of days like that, we get enough business to go for a while. Sean and I couldn’t even move from the registers all day,” he said.

“Does it really make that much of a difference?” I asked.

He laughed and said, “Yeah, we were busy all day. You can’t beat that.”

It struck me as odd that single days like that could sustain them for that long, but they’ve been in business for almost five years already, with no signs of stopping. I took his word for it. Even though no one has seemed to have heard of this place, and even though I never seem to run into anyone there, but they seem to be doing pretty alright.