THERE IS no more picturesque sight in Campbell than 7,000 vinyl records, in boxes, on the floor of a retail establishment—especially when each one costs 25¢. The joint in question is On the Corner Music, a tiny little gem at the suburban crossroads of East Campbell and Dillon avenues. The folks over at KSCU-FM (103.3), Santa Clara University’s radio station, needed to unload a large portion of their back vinyl catalog, and someone decided that Jeff Evans at On the Corner Music was a worthy recipient.
Following an afternoon of stylized wandering, I once again appeared at the threshold of this fine establishment. You see, Record Store Day, a national event, will soon be upon us—Saturday, April 17, to be exact. Independent record stores across the country stage parties, and recording labels release limited-edition collector’s items just for the occasion. Locally speaking, 7,000 donated vinyl LPs for 25¢ each at a corner store in Campbell is a perfect way to begin the celebration.
Whenever Jeff and I have conversation, we wind up discussing the last quarter-century of something in San Jose. As we stood there, another patron told us he saw Pat Benatar at the Bodega in Campbell decades ago. This nugget immediately triggered a mutual diatribe about long-gone Campbell clubs like Puma’s, Smokey Mountain, and Gilbert Zapp’s. Personally, I would say “goodbye and good riddance” to each one of those, but they were indeed quite popular among the commercial herds.
The nostalgia didn’t stop there. Merely occupying the same suburban corner with 7,000 vinyl LPs sparked tons of forgotten record-store memories in Santa Clara Valley. It was a throwback to 25 years ago in San Jose, when LPs dominated the landscape, at least in my immediate sphere of influence. Independent places were common—Underground Records, Flashback Records, Fantasy Records, Rowe’s Rare Records, Recycled Records and the Dedicated Record Collector just to rattle off a few. I remember all of them.
The only one with historical lineage still existing from that era is Big Al’s Record Barn, which used to be on El Camino Real a long time ago. Epitomizing the concept of the grumpy old record-store dude, Big Al was one of those curmudgeons who would stock a dozen used copies of something like the Jim Nabors Christmas Album and still charge $15 for each one.
And there’s more. The Dedicated Record Collector set up shop in a house on Bascom Avenue just north of San Carlos. He would stock all sorts of indie singles one couldn’t find at Tower. Back then, Streetlight Records was located in another house on Bascom, just down the street from where it sits now. Around the same time, Fantasy Records in El Paseo de Saratoga Shopping Center was the best place for obscure European heavy-metal records. Anything with a pentagram or crucified nuns on the cover—stuff actually worth $15—they had it.
Even the chain stores were pretty decent in those days, and every teenager in the ’80s spent time at places like Tower Records or Record Factory. In fact, one can make an argument that the entire stretch of Blossom Hill Road between Almaden Expressway and Oakridge never recovered after the demise of Record Factory, Warehouse and Rainbow Records. (Some would add Fred’s Soccer Shop, but that’s another column.)
Circa 1985, this was when you would take the bus to Record Factory and argue with the stoner dude behind the counter about whether TDK blank cassettes were better than Maxell blank cassettes. This was the highlight of culture in south San Jose in the mid-’80s, as there was absolutely nothing else to do.
I am not trying to relive the past. I’m just revisiting the past. There’s a big difference. These days, one actually has to do some legwork to find a decent copy of the Astromusical House of Aquarius LP for less than five bucks. I applaud Jeff Evans at On the Corner Music for carrying on the vinyl tradition. God bless the concrete and chaos of Campbell, Calif.
