What is it that makes us recommend music to each other? What brings on this feeling that eats at you until you just have to tell someone about it? For some, I'd guess there's some desire for affirmation. For some, a lifelong goal to show people that they are better than the rest because they know about the most obscure band around. For most of us, though, I think that we just feel a universal need to share great art. Music is meant to be shared. That's why we attend concerts, why iTunes and Pandora exist, why people like me start blogs, why record stores hold a special place in the music subculture (admit it, you love High Fidelity and Empire Records for reasons you might not entirely understand). Sadly, we must say goodbye to one of the few independent stores left.
The end of January marks the end of an institution. After a quarter century of sharing music with (and selling music to) the residents of State College, PA, Greg Gabbard is closing the doors of my favorite music store in all the lands. City Lights Records (at least it it's physical, brick and mortar form) will be no more.
I've known Greg since 2000 or 2001. I'm not sure when it was exactly that I took the trip down the stairs, under the clothing store, and into the narrow aisles of City Lights. I'll admit, I felt a bit intimidated at first. I imagined a scene like in High Fidelity (the movie...I can't remember if its in the book or not and I can't find it in the disorganization of my den to check) where a guy gets berated out of the store for asking for the wrong album. I didn't want to make the wrong reference, ask about the wrong band, etc. and never be welcomed into the store again. I learned soon that my first impression was wrong. Greg isn't one to ostracize someone based on their taste or lack thereof. He's happy to BS with and sell to anyone who sets foot in the store. The obvious problem is not enough people are setting foot in the store any more. Greg has finally given in to the economic strain of the shifting music industry.
The thing I like most about Greg and his store is that he's never come off as being in it for the money. I don't think you could fool anyone by trying to convince them that owning an independent record store is the path to riches. What I mean is that I've never seen him just ring someone up and get them out of the store. He's always ready for a conversation about music. Greg has always been good for a recommendation, a story about a recent concert, news on who's coming to play next, tickets to the next great local show, etc. But it doesn't just end there with Greg. Everyone can have the conversation where you just go back and forth saying "Have you heard ___?" "No, but have you heard ___? They're awesome." Greg always takes the time to talk about why the band is good, why you'd like it, and (if you have the time) to blast the music around the store to prove it. Over the years, Greg has been directly responsible for my love of Sun Kil Moon, supplied me with my collection of Josh Ritter albums, and shared many enthusiastic conversations about the quality of Duncan Sheik's songwriting. There is a joy in his voice when he starts talking about music, even in the midst of a conversation about the inevitable closing of his store, and that joy is infectious.
The last time I was in State College (toward the end of the football season), Greg broke the news to me that he had decided to close the doors. I'd had similar conversations with him in the past, but those usually ended with him saying he'd try to hold on just a little longer. This time, there was no back and forth. He was done holding on and ready to move on to something new. Greg plans to continue City Lights online and I plan on linking to it as soon as I know he's online and ready to go. I can only hope that he continues the conversations and not just the transactions. If not, I'm afraid we'd lose a great voice for the merit of the independent music store and the sharing of great art. It just won't feel right walking by that storefront on College Ave. without seeing Greg's handwritten poster advertising the new releases downstairs.
Greg, thanks for the music and thanks for the memories. I'm sorry to see the lights turn off and the door close for good, but the internet is a great place to share. If I'm able to get something going here, surely you can, too.
Below is a short, 5 minute documentary created by a Penn State student (Matt Steck, who I've never met, but was kind enough to put his video on YouTube) for a film class that I think shows the Greg Gabbard that I've come to know and respect. He comes off as a bit of a beaten man in this, but check out how he lights up when he reminisces about his introduction to the Beatles (about 45 seconds in) and when he talks about his favorite part of the job (about 4 minutes in).
