One of my fondest memories as a kid was walking into my local record store—Numbers, Records and Tapes, in Jackson Heights, Queens—hard-earned allowance of sweaty dollar bills in one hand, and The Clash’s final LP, Cut the Crap in the other. It was the very first piece of music I bought and took a whole lot of swearing on my grandma’s grave (she was still alive, btw) to convince my mom the album was curse-word free. Under her watchful eye, I ran home and listened to all 38 minutes of it with glee. After the needle went silent, all I dreamt about that night was running back to the record store to buy more music.
Most of us remember places like these—musical havens where one could get lost in a sea of albums, sample different tunes, talk with knowledgeable people who were passionate about music, and get the scoop on new groups or gigs coming out of the woodworks. At some point every town and every neighborhood had a music store to call their own. For Greenpoint, it was and will be until September 30th, Permanent Records. Continue reading