This week's New Times music feature is a look at the slow death of Associated Distributors, and several really cool locally owned record stores.
All I'd ever wanted to do was work in a record store. I'd begun collecting LPs in earnest during my freshman year in high school. I joined the Columbia Record Club (under the name ZaSu Pitts) and, by senior year, my collection was overtaking my tiny bedroom. My classmates had letter sweaters and college-friendly GPAs, but I had a factory-sealed copy of Peter Green's Fleetwood Mac and a first pressing of the ultra-rare Runaways "Cherry Bomb" picture disc. Who needed a degree? more...
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