The curious case of music collections vanishing from CD stores
The way things are going, I suspect music CDs will become extinct. I was alarmed to see the music section of Infiniti Mall at Oshiwara — among the largest outlets in town for international and desi CDs — shrunk to the size of a handkerchief. All the rareties, including classic jazz and 1970s and 80s hard rock no longer cram a long line of racks. In fact, a sale for the oldies was on, but none that got my eardrums beating.
Video games — brand-new and second-hand — have taken over from Jim Morrison, Eric Clapton and Led Zep. And when I asked for Miles Davis’ Bitches Brew — a must-possess — I received “Who’s he?” glares in response from the ever-bustling team of salespersons there. Only new Bollywood CDs, collections of yesteryear’s melodies and get-crazy-on-the-dance-floor anthologies are visible, but that too barely.
The Crossword outlet at Kemp’s Corner doesn’t excite my music browsing instincts either, especially because the cataloguing of the remnants is pretty haphazard. No point in looking out for Elton John’s excellent Don’t Shoot Me, I’m Only the Piano Player album there for sure. As for the blues-and-rock greats Traffic, led by Steve Winwood, just forget it. Expectedly, when I brought up my music blues with someone half my age, he smirked, “But uncle, no one buys CDs anymore. Just tell me what you want, and I’ll download it for you.” Call this “uncle” a Mr Jurassic if you like, but that’s not quite the same…is it? Apart from the piracy issue, I can’t see myself with CDs that don’t have an album jacket, many of which have had amazing art design. Take In the Court of the Crimson King or the Beatles’ Rubber Soul, they’re memorable album covers for memorable music.
To a considerable degree, Rampart Row’s Rhythm House is still the oasis for CD hunters. Its competitors in south Mumbai have packed up, but the institution lives on. So what if it has to largely survive on revenue from the sales of DVDs, stationery and magazines. Akbar bhai, a kindly counter salesperson has passed away, but quite a few familiar senior staffers mind the till.
Two sidebar complaints though. One, the section for Tamil-Telugu music is hardly replenished regularly. And two, the uniformed attendants there don’t care if they jostle and bump into customers, like impatient cars in a traffic snarl. Also, some of them dart the dirtiest looks this side of a garbage heap at me, depriving me of the joy of excavating an elusive CD for my collection. Ouch, do I look like a shoplifter? Hope not.
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