It all began with Mom leaving piles of records on the changer, and little Kevin firing it up when nobody was around. The Isleys, The Beatles, Hendrix, Cat Stevens were some of the names spinning sweet melodic dreams. And then there was Dad’s jazz stash, in the big alligator suitcase, where names such as Monk, Parker and Gillespie awaited.
So when I go record shopping, it isn’t easy. I’ve found that the best way is to find a cool music emporium, and hang out. The only rules are the staff must have good taste, and you shouldn’t be able to predict what you’re going to hear next. But first …
MORNING
I’m hungry. Imagine that. I’m usually pedaling a bicycle when the rest of the world is noshing, so when there is time for breakfast, stand back. One favorite is Ann Sather (929 W. Belmont Ave., 773-348-2378). Yes, it’s tasty, but you also get mounds of joy-inducing grub. I like a veggie omelet, which comes with hash browns and cinnamon rolls as sides, and french toast. Wash it down with water and cranberry juice.
Then waddle east up Belmont Avenue to Broadway, and Reckless Records (3161 N. Broadway, 773-404-5080). This is a no-fooling-around slice of sonic heaven, and the clerks are your deejays. Saturday is the best day because the shop is busy, and the music is flying fast and furious. The list of bands I have discovered just standing around at Reckless would gobble up much of this space, but some names are Panel Donor (bassist used to clerk at Reckless), Skullflower, Fushitsusha and Shellac.
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Just hang out, and take in the sounds. And don’t be shy. If something comes on that you like, ask about it. If it’s for sale, it’s yours. If it isn’t, they’ll get it for you, or suggest something just like it. The store sells everything, jazz from free to straight, R&B, country and rock of all stripes, from avant noise to synth pop.
After this, you’re ready for sterner stuff. Leave Reckless, cross to the west side of Belmont Avenue, and hit Metal Haven (604 W. Belmont Ave., 773-755-9202). This store is great, verging on spectacular, and if you love, like or are curious about metal, there is no better place. It’s a wee, claustrophobic space that places volume and selection above pretty displays. The metal is arrayed by category from Death or Black to Stoner, or the appropriately named Brutal [Stuff]. The owner, Mark Weglarz, is very nice, and always happy to make recommendations.
Again, don’t be shy. If something is too hard, too fast or not sufficiently melodic for you, speak up. It’s hard to find Black (not African-American … Satan) metal in Chicago, but it’s here, and how. Naglfar and Dimmu Borgir are a couple of favorites, particularly the former. Sounds like? Having your head inside a steel drainage pipe while someone is drumming on one end and dragging a chainsaw across the other, with an agitated cat caught in a trap just outside. Pretty cool.
AFTERNOON
Afterward, depending on what sort of a gustatory wuss you are, it is or isn’t time for a late lunch/early supper. Being vegetarian and already in the neighborhood, I like Chicago Diner (3411 N. Halsted St., 773-935-6696). All veggie, all the time, but don’t get to thinking that this food isn’t any fun. Often, in the case of the more interesting dishes featuring seitan or tofu, you’d be hard pressed to tell you were doing your body a favor. Have a look at the dessert menu, if you dare. Who said eating vegan can’t be fun?
From here it’s time for home, to utter the groans of the sated, and rock the heck out.