They no longer sell CDs at the Harvard Coop.

We awoke yesterday in Manchester to bright sun and temperatures in the forties.  On the drive out of town we stopped at a farm stand and purchased some Macoun apples and ventured into the mountains.  Where we found the foliage way past peak.  Whether due to weather or the extreme rain of the day before, we’re not sure, but we felt happy to experience the peak, only a few days prior.

And after driving through Townshend and Newfane, and by the dilapidated Maple Valley, we found ourselves in Brattleboro.  To find the Dunkin Donuts absent its former location and an endless stream of cars.  It appears you can’t even avoid traffic in Vermont.

And then we descended Route 91 into Bernardston, Massachusetts, turned at Greenfield onto Route 2 and left the mountains behind.

Last night was the rehearsal dinner, at Anthony’s Pier 4.  It was great to eat lobster, but even more fascinating to speak with my octogenarian uncle, Herbie.  He’d told me he’d lost $300,000 in the crash of the market.  My mother, his sister, told me Herb had stock in Wachovia…and although depositors did well, investors were wiped out.

We read about the fat cats, but throughout my ventures in New England I’ve been hearing the stories of the middle class.  People who do not make $250,000 a year and want change.  That family inheritance, that your professional father earned and is now split three ways?  It lost a third of its value, the family freaked and switched the asset to cash.  No one was prepared for this.  People felt they could trust their advisors, they didn’t need specific knowledge themselves.  And now everybody is scurrying about, trying to find out how to save his investments.  It’s always the same, socialism for the rich, capitalism for the poor.  None of the untaxed dollars from the rich trickle down into these people’s pockets.  They’re working for a living.

Today we walked up the Charles to experience the regatta.  Dozens of teams rowing their sculls three miles up the river.  Hanging out on the Boston University dock, having employed my chutzpah to get in, I was struck by the sense of camaraderie.  We all want to belong, we all want to be a member of the group, we all want to participate.  We’re all patriots!  But when we’re done with college, society focuses its attention on the youth, we’re the ignored generation.  I pity those alone at an older age, sans compatriots, working for a living, earning less for their effort and coming home to watch TV.  The older you are in America, the more you’re ignored.  Make way for the newbies.

After taking Felice’s picture aside the BlackBerry mascot, and consuming some free samples from the concession stands, we strolled up to Harvard Square.

Like the rest of America, it’s grown out, expanded.  But Passim is still there.  And the old Yard…  You can feel the intellectualism oozing from the hundreds year old buildings.

And after consuming some clam chowder in the aforementioned Coop, we went behind the original building, to the annex, where the records used to live.  They’re gone. I guess one can say books will be gone soon too.  With so many college texts being downloaded, with Amazon a viable option for consumers.  Something is lost when bookstores expire, the vibe, the ability to browse and explore, but driving one’s car one can’t experience the wind in one’s face like Paul Revere did on his horse on his midnight ride.

Confirming there was no music at the Coop, the man at the information desk told me I could find CDs at Newbury Comics, down on J.F.K., in the Garage.

Which turned out to be a mini-mall.  With a Ben & Jerry’s on the first floor and a stereo shop on the second.

That used to be one of my prime Saturday afternoon activities, shopping for stereo.  But the store was empty sans a few baby boomers.  Kids don’t drool over McIntosh the way we did.

And then, in the back of the building, I found Newbury Comics.

It’s a record store in name only.  In truth, it’s a tchotchke emporium.

Newbury Comics was started by M.I.T. dropout Mike Dreese and a buddy.  Dreese is inspirational, not relying on self-help books or an MBA to guide his empire, but his instincts, his ability to analyze and a nimbleness that allows him to adjust his inventory, seemingly instantly.

And what is that inventory?

There are a few rows of CDs.  The big innovation being the insertion of used product in with the new.  And the few people perusing the jewel boxes seemed to be looking for bargains.

As for the vinyl, the vaunted cash cow, I only found one person fingering the albums.  Most of which were overpriced in the major label way.  I mean how many people want an over twenty dollar LP?  We bitched when we paid more than four bucks!

And U2 was blaring out of the sound system.  And the help didn’t have that Tower fuck you quality, but the magic wasn’t in music, but the other merchandise.

There was a rack of posters.  I guess kids still need to put their heroes on the wall.  I certainly did.  Both W.C. Fields and Peter Fonda.

And stuffed animals.  And Red Sox street signs.  There was more stuff crammed into this store than a museum.  It was like opening Carrot Top’s trunk.  This was where you went if you wanted a cheap gift.  If you were under twenty and were searching for your identity.  You could buy music, but that wasn’t where the pulse was.  DVDs got about as much space, but movies are moving online too.  Blu-Ray is not burning up the sales floor.

In other words, Newbury Comics and Mike Dreese are going to be fine.  Because Mike is a retailer.  Who happened to sell music.  He’s about store excitement, he’s about unique merchandise purchased in bulk at a great price.  But despite your protestations, despite you waxing rhapsodic about albums, about the retail experience, brick and mortar music sales are on their last legs.  The final hurrah is already in the rearview mirror.  Physical retail is where old wave acts like AC/DC that didn’t get the memo become pawns to giant corporations that don’t give a shit.

I don’t see AC/DC playing any in-stores at Wal-Mart, and I don’t see them playing their entire new album in order live either.

In other words, music lives online and it’s hard to grasp the scene.

iTunes represents a fraction of acquisition.  The iPod eclipses the product.  And the iPhone stands alone, it doesn’t even need any product to be useful.

And you can’t tell which way the wind blows by listening to the radio.

Music is a state of mind.  It’s no longer a product.  No longer something you produce, ship and wash your hands of.  Now, music is just part of the relationship.  Musical acts must acquire and maintain a relationship with their fan base in order to prosper and survive.  You get paid for some things, and not for others.  And the fan coughs up important assets to the act.  A valid e-mail address is worth more than a free track.  For you can market forever to the individual, whereas that one free song could be an evanescent wank.

We can’t even call it the record business anymore.  And, it’s something that is hard to calculate and evaluate.  What difference does the chart make if no one is listening, if one-tenth of the people are buying?  It just matters if you’ve got people who like you and your music.  Who are willing to proffer enough money so that you can survive without a day job.

Don’t focus on record sales.  Don’t focus on radio adds.  Those are antique concepts.  Focus first on your music, and then getting paid.  Broaden your horizons on how to get paid.  Don’t think of a CD you mail to a critic and sell in a store, but a friend who tells everybody he knows about you.  Don’t worry about the old gatekeepers, their kingdom is contracting.  Don’t worry about awards.  By time they figure out how to quantify what you’re doing, you will have already broken up.