One of the critical issues of the holiday season is the giving of gifts. Clearly, this is a nationwide trend. I can’t imagine one speck of American culture that excludes themselves from this materialistic tradition, myself included. I love it. I love to shop. I love earning a quick buck and then spending it. And I love to hand pick gifts especially for a person that draws out some little nook or cranny of their personality via torn wrapping paper and loose ribbon.
Jacksonville is filled with a thousand places to find such oddities. I go to thrift stores, scour the knick-knacks, potpourri and ornaments, rummage through pet stores and dress stores all for that perfect gift. There isn’t one place I won’t go, but I do have a particular fondness for all things local. There is a flavor that comes with local shops that one can’t find elsewhere. I take a lot of pride in what local Jacksonville retail has to offer. It makes this town in my eyes. And I do love a tasty treat.
A few weeks ago, buried deep inside Talbots at the Town Center, a young woman about my age complimented my mother’s sunglasses.
“They’re from Edge City!” I said, with uber enthusiasm. I was received with a blank stare.
“You know, in Five Points.” Still nothing. The girl had never even heard of Five Points. I about fainted. But, as it turns out, there are people out there who don’t know about our little gems of Jacksonville. In my mind, what would Jacksonville provide without such spices? Strip malls, a lot of traffic, and perhaps some reddish hues that give us a bad name?
However, the other day as I was talking with my old roommate from California, she mentioned a trip to Amoeba music store and it hit me. I could not think of one single independent record store in town. Having worked (briefly) at Vinyl Fever in Tallahassee, I am personally very drawn to their quirky, somewhat elitist atmosphere. It makes the experience of buying music more authentic, especially in this era of downloads and MySpace.
Jacksonville seems to have lost many of its local music stores. Sure, there are the Barnes and Nobles and the Borders. But where can I go to find those slightly obscure cd’s that aren’t sold in corporate powerhouses who are only after the high price tag? And I do not think I should have to whip out a phone book to find a music store. That kind of information should be readily available at the front of my brain.
My spirit has crushed. What is the world coming to? And why did Jacksonville follow suit? It’s terrible. There is no good excuse. Sure, the industry is changing. If anyone knows that, it’s me. I’ve seen the inside; I’ve seen the outside. It’s sort of sick and twisted, the music industry. But, it gives us music. Why have we turned our backs?
I have no good answer for this question. Must I succumb to Amazon purchases? Or iTunes, which requires me to burn a cd and make my own cd art? Where did all the records go? In fact, my boyfriend has an old record player back in Tallahassee that I have been begging him to bring home. But where would I find any records? I find this blank space in my brain as a devastating, harsh reality.
California, for all its oddities and horrors, did not lack in the local music stores. They were so easily accessible, even tourists knew where to go… mostly because they were located at almost any street corner. Did I forsake one of my all time favorite past times, one of the worlds greatest treasures to the human race, by moving home? I am sure not. I am sure there must be something out there… but where?
This holiday season, the one thing I am asking of you Jacksonville, is to bring home the music. It spins me right round baby right round. Like a record baby. Like the world, baby. Where would we be without music? Surely not round round
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