The crappy town I live in just lost its only independent music store. It had been here for twenty years and considering the fate of independent music stores these days, it's a miracle it made it this long. It's a miracle considering this town is one gigantic strip mall. It had become legendary in this region of the US (southeast). It closed a year after the only venue in town where bands on independent labels played closed. A fratbar opened up in its place. Old timers will tell me about when Sonic Youth or other longterm indy bands played here. Sad, sad, sad. And everyone who lives here rages if they have to drive more than five miles to Wal-Mart or Sonic.
Hey but we can make our own music! And no one is making us go to Best Buy!
And on a brighter note, ice-cream is delicious.
In short, I sympathize with the feeling that personal memories are not even considered when it comes to matters of realestate and money and business. It sounds flaky to say, but it is frustrating, as much as I have understood for a long time that this is how it goes. This is rather minor in comparsion to a home you once lived in.
Oh; I hated the pub: I hated every pub that I lived in, because it meant that the people there were plankton. In fact, almost every memory that I have of the place is a bad one, apart from when I climbed onto the roof (on the other side) and sat reading under the stars. It was rather depressing; seeing people ruin their lives even further. The best way to describe drinking, that I can think of, are a few lines from Othello: 'Now a sensible man, by and by a fool, and presently a beast.'
I think that independent music stores deserve to be saved far more than public houses. I co-ran one, weirdly called 'Pericles and the Munchies,' after graduating and before doing post-grad work. That was where real music was. Perhaps I should come over to where you are and start an independen music store, in the future? I was in a hair-dressers a few days ago, and I noticed-- as a fluke--, that, in the short while it took to get my hair trimmed from my eyes, the same song was played thrice; only the people singing it were different. I think that that is, unfortunately, the way of the future; to my dismay.
