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Vintage Vinyl, photo by smalltowngirl

Vintage Vinyl, photo by smalltowngirl

In the days before the internet, when a small town girl was forced to drive 70 miles to buy any album that wasn’t mainstream, Vintage Vinyl was where I went.

In 2009, when a small town girl who’s heart is a Brooklynite is aching for a sense of connection to St. Louis and is longing for some new music, Vintage Vinyl is still where I go.

Listening Station CD Stack, photo by smalltowngirl

Listening Station CD Stack, photo by smalltowngirl

I sat at a listening station in Vintage Vinyl, and an employee brought me stacks of CDs to listen to. I came away with a long list of bands to remember on my next trip to a record store. I also left with two new CDs; one by the Fleet Foxes and one by The Felice Brothers.

Vintage Vinyl is proof that you don’t have to be in New York or San Francisco to find great, locally owned independent businesses staffed with people who truly know and love what it is that they sell. I love Vintage Vinyl.

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I spent most of my day yesterday in Soulard, a neighborhood just east of I-55 and south of downtown, St. Louis. The area reminds me of a mix between Brooklyn and New Orleans, with red brick, two- and three-story rowhouses along red brick sidewalks.

Black rod-iron railings line the second and third floor balconies of buildings, and gardens and courtyards hide quietly between houses. Soulard is one of the only neighborhoods in St. Louis where you can truly park your car and hop between restaurants, galleries, venues and bars. 

Lunch was at McGurk’s. 

Before I go any further, I need to say how much I wish I hadn’t chickened out on taking my camera out with me yesterday. Pictures would really help in capturing the feel of Soulard.

We sat on the back patio at McGurck’s. The Patio was large, with a fountain in the center that’s turned to a fire ring when the weather is cooler. This photo belongs to Metromix St. Louis, and is actually taken the table we sat at during lunch.

 

Photo Credit: Metromix St. Louis

Photo Credit Metromix St. Louis

After lunch, we headed to Washington Street for an emerging musicians street festival, but the music wasn’t playing and the crowd wasn’t hoppin’ when we arrived. On a whim, we headed to City Museum instead, and had what was probably the most fun I’ve had in years. Stay tuned for a full blog about that.

After the museum, we found ourselves back in Soulard at a street festival/block party that seemed to be sponsored by The Riverfont Times. $20 at the door bought live music until midnight and all the cajun food and Budweiser Select you could eat/drink. 

Soulard had an energy and a self-pride that made me think of neighborhoods I’ve lived in in other cities. It felt great to get out of small town, MO for the day and hang out in urbanland. For another nice blog on Soulard, go here.

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Disclosure: My best friend works for one of the artists on this album, so my opinion is probably influenced by her talking this album up, pre-release.

Last night, I downloaded “Dark Was the Night”, the newly released album produced by Aaron and Bryce Dessner from one of my favorite bands, The National, as an AIDS and HIV awareness project.

Besides Feist and The National, the album features an impressive list of artists, including Beirut, Kronos Quartet, Bon Iver, Arcade Fire, Cat Power, The Decemberists, and more. It’s a two-CD set, and it is working much-needed magic in my soul.

Living in the rural midwest is a lot easier in 2009 than it would have been in the past. Ten years ago, I would have needed to drive to St. Louis on the release date of an album like this, hoping that a store like Vintage Vinyl might have it in stock. Last night, I downloaded it from my bedroom.

Ten years ago, I’d probably have been one of the only people I knew digging an album like this one. Now, I can probably find a thousand people online talking about it.

So as I sit in my big, red, paisly arm chair, feet propped up and sun streaming in my window, I listen to this album, and I don’t feel far from NYC at all.

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Nothing will fry insired writing or kill the high found in watching a Panamanian drum corps rehearse in the park or keep new drumsticks in their packaging unused as well as television will.

I’ve been home for several hours now, and except for a really productive discussion with my roommates and making myself dinner, I’ve been entirely unproductive. But off with the television and back to the Panamanian drum and bugle corps.

I left my office at around six, and heard drums playing in the park. A percussionist myself, I couldn’t resist checking it out to see what it was. What I found was approximately forty percussionists and bugle players. I stood watching them for what seemed like fifteen minutes but was actually an hour and fifteen minutes. I think I smiled the entire time, and before I left, I was invited to come back to Tuesday’s rehearsal. Forty some-odd players from all over NYC, technically not amazing players, but they knew what drumming in a group was really about.

On my way home, I stopped into Guitar Center and bought a pair of sticks and a practice pad. I hadn’t played in nearly two years, but after watching that rehearsal, I knew what I had to do.

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