A DRINK IN THE BLIZZARD’S ARMS:
On London’s Oxford Street I drift into the HMV flagship store
to have what may possibly be the last ‘browsing’ experience
in a record shop of this size. Surprised to find it rammed,
locusts picking over desert bones, eyes wide, fists full of
the physical stuff – where was this support when the stores
needed it?
The whiff of bargain like a call to arms, a smash n grab for
pennies. The price war won, the last of the UK chains drummed
out’ve town leaving a hole filled with less choice, less ‘chance’
encounters with eye-catching artworks & curious covers – the music
I bought because the cover ‘looked interesting’ & was racked next
to the thing I came for.
Options reduced, whittled to a click, only a network of connected
friends remains to keep me random, a skeleton crew. Solitary web
drifters ghost corridors of disconnected sounds, music, category,
compartment, box. Bleak mid-winter?, no, just the way the wind blows.
Though it’s a cruel thought that this disposabley incomed generation
which still craves to graze is hungry to spend money on new
young artists who are…hungry for financial support.
Thanks to all the the people who keep sending me new music,
all the artists who keep making it, the labels who put it out
& the record stores still open for grazing.
(K)
Karl Hyde 