The music, people and stupid moments that make up the nightlife
The problem with a lot of music-related writing in general is that people have this habit of wailing when places go out of business like it's a sign of the apocalypse. Take this mess over Tower and, specifically, the
article in today's
LA Times. Only one quote in there, from a shopper who pointed that even the sale discs were more expensive than at Amoeba, pointed to what probably remains at the heart of the store's trouble.
I never was a diehard Tower shopper, not even as a kid. In the Northwest Valley, where I was raised, we had three independent shops (Roundhouse in Granada Hills, Tempo in Northridge and Record Trader in Reseda, all of which went out of business within the past decade) and then a bunch of corporate chains. If you were a Valley kid who was dead serious about your music, you did not shop at the corporate stores. If you did go to Tower, it was primarily for the magazines and zines, as they always had one of the best-stocked newstands in the area. The primary reason why we didn't shop at Tower, Sam Goody, et. al. was because the prices were outrageous. Your standard, domestic CD would run at $18.99 where the indie stores might charge an even $15. Import full-lengths would check in at around $30, where we could find them for $20-25 at other places.
In recent years, since the demise of my favorite local haunts, I have made purchases at Tower, but only for sales (basically, when the KCRW and Indie 103.1 picks are down to $12.99). For new releases, I still felt that I was better off heading out to Amoeba and for older tunes, I tend to just comb the few indies that are left (Freakbeat in Sherman Oaks, Vinyl Fetish on Cahuenga, Soundsations in Westchester, etc.) in search of what I need. Tower's demise is perhaps symbolic of the music industry's troubles at large. You simply cannot expect people to consistently spend over $15 per CD when even the least savvy shopper knows how to get it at a lower price.