I will never forget the date: September 29th, 1991. My buddies and I were gathered around the TV in our dorm at UW-Madison that Sunday night as we always did for MTV’s 120 Minutes. For those that don’t remember, it was a two-hour show featuring videos from bands that were back then described as “College Radio” or “Underground Music”. If you were a fan of bands like REM, The Cure, Midnight Oil, Mighty Mighty Bosstones, The Replacements, and myriad other bands that got no radio airplay–this was your one source for the latest tunes (well, that and Spin Magazine).
That was the night that Nirvana’s Smells Like Teen Spirit video made its “world premiere”. None of us had heard of Nirvana–even though they already had released one album–so you didn’t know what to expect when Dave Kendall introduced the new song from “The Seattle band, Nirvana”. From the opening riff, to the thundering entry of the drums, to the deep driving bass, to the sleazy setting of a dark high school gym with tattooed cheerleaders and a head-banging janitor–we were in awe. And when it was done, we all thought the same thing: “We have to get this album!!!”
So plans were hatched to skip class the next morning and go to the one place we knew would have at least a few copies of Nevermind: The Exclusive Company on State Street. And sure enough, right at opening time, we found our prize on both cassette and CD. Immediately, we rushed back to the dorms to listen–amazed at the greatness of every track.
I was lucky to enjoy a lot of moments like that thanks to the Exclusive Company over the years. I attended many a midnight opening for new albums from Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Soundgarden, U2, REM, Foo Fighters, and The Rolling Stones. It was always a communal experience, lining up outside the building in all kinds of weather, discussing what the new sound might be like or what tracks may have already been leaked on bootlegs. And who doesn’t like to brag about being “The first to hear” the hot new songs.
I still remember the first time I went to an Exclusive Company–the one on Dousman Street in Green Bay. I rode my bike all the way from Howard, and Mr G himself–James Giombetti–was in the store and got me the cassette copies of the Beach Boys Endless Summer and the Beatles 1962-1966 collection. He complimented me on my “good taste” and that I had picked some “great top-down cruisin’ music” in his trademark voice that starred in so many radio commercials over the years.
The Exclusive Company was always there for those of us with tastes in music that were outside of the mainstream. Skate punk, ska, new age jazz, Brit alt pop, and all the local bands we would see at the bars–they carried it all. Anytime you can go home with the new albums from NOFX, Boy Wonder and George Winston, it’s been a good shopping experience. And let’s not forget how we all dreamed of cramming the monster stereo systems they sold into our bedrooms or our vehicles.
You may have heard me mention that my Ipod Classic is loaded with 18-thousand songs. I’d wager 40% of those are from CD’s purchased at the Exclusive Company over the years. My last trip was to their Northland Mall location last fall to get the remastered version of The Beatles’ Let It Be and the free poster with purchase.
So that is why I was saddened to hear yesterday that all of the locations across Wisconsin will be closed–with just a couple remaining as record stores under new ownership. The Exclusive Company (like all record shops) was badly wounded by the digital download trend in music–with the new generation of listeners preferring copies of their tunes on their computers and phones–and not physical versions like CD’s (although vinyl was becoming a niche industry again). Who needs to stand in a thunderstorm for the latest albums when they “drop” on ITunes whenever the artist feels like it? And who wants to buy a whole album when you can get the one or two hits for two-bucks each?
The literal death knell for the stores came earlier this year when Mr G passed away–and apparently there was no one interested in continuing to operate the business. It’s a common theme in today’s new, new, new, new economy–a successful small business entrepreneur (who in this case, started out selling albums from the trunk of his car) who either dies or wants to retire, and no one wants to do the work to keep it going.
So another feature of my youth is tossed into the trashbin of history. Say it with me: The Present Sucks!
