An Indie Takes Shape

They came in droves. Hipsters with carefully orchestrated facial hair, dog-collared punks, bed-headed hippies and loosely clothed DJs with crates to fill--music fans of all sorts hoping to get first crack at what was rumored to be the best collection of pristine vinyl in the country.

When Amoeba Music opened its doors on Sunset Boulevard in Hollywood on Saturday, it may have been the most eagerly anticipated record store in L.A. history. The line outside began forming at 4:30 a.m. Six hours later, it extended down the block and around the corner, prompting an employee in a nearly fluorescent Amoeba T-shirt to hand out maps so the 300 or so in line could navigate the store’s 28,000 square feet once the deadbolts were unlocked.

With the dozens of record stores that cater to them, one would think L.A. music shoppers are well taken care of. But the multitude of record labels, nightclubs and bands that make Los Angeles the epicenter of the music industry also means that the city is home to some of the most savvy and finicky record buyers in the world. Many local music lovers feel the retail scene is sorely wanting, and that the existing indie stores, in particular, could be better.

“Considering how large [and] prominent the city is, there should be more stores, not just supporting independent music but stores that have a really good stock and collectors’ items. There’s really a dearth of that around L.A.,” said David Bash, a 43-year-old from Sherman Oaks who had gotten to Amoeba at 6:30 a.m., hoping to score some vintage ‘60s pop.

Bash, founder of the International Pop Overthrow music festival, is one of many who had been eagerly awaiting Amoe- ba’s arrival. But whether you were looking forward to the Bay Area’s largest and most respected independent record store setting up shop in Hollywood depended on which side of the sales counter you stood. Most L.A. indie sellers had been eyeing the transplant with a mixture of curiosity and dread. Already struggling in a down market, they can only hope Amoeba doesn’t cut the pie into such small slivers that they are driven out of business.

“We’re not looking to hurt anyone,” said Dave Prinz, 48, the bespectacled, gray-haired co-founder of Amoeba. “We just want to have the best store ever. That doesn’t mean other stores can’t thrive and do well around us.”

More than anything, what Amoeba brings to L.A. is selection. It has about 400,000 CDs and 300,000 LPs on the floor at any given time, and even more in storage. That’s in addition to tens of thousands of VHS tapes, DVDs and posters.

Amoeba’s owners spent about $2 million to stock its L.A. store. Buying from locals and scouring the country for the better part of this year, they picked up some stunning collections, including a 15,000-piece jazz library in New York and 30,000 English rock records that had been stored in a dehumidified vault in Detroit.

Although selection counts for a lot, it’s not all that record shoppers are looking for. For starters, they’d like less attitude and more courtesy--a sales staff that knows more about music than they do about clothes.

“If you can actually find somebody that knows something about music, that’s a rarity in a record store,” said Steve Stanley, 31, a shopper from the Valley who was checking out Amoeba on its opening day.

Though that is largely a function of low wages, it’s common for both indie and corporate record stores to employ fashionably hip young staffers who look good but don’t have a particularly deep knowledge of what they are selling. Many indie record store shoppers enjoy the serendipity of finding something they weren’t expecting and being turned on to something new by a fellow shopper or employee, and a hipper-than-thou, unfriendly or unhelpful staff undermines that mission.

Part of the beauty of independently owned record stores is that they not only sell but also buy. Inventory changes daily as customers trade the records they’re embarrassed by, tired of listening to or never liked in the first place for store credit or cash. It’s a win-win situation for shoppers, who can simultaneously lighten their load and get better prices than they would at the chains, most of which only sell new product.

Some stores pay better than others. They buy according to what they need and the condition of the merchandise, so sellers should have at least some understanding of what market a certain store caters to. Some shops would gleefully buy a Sisters of Mercy CD, while others would cordially pass.

On the low end, stores offer 20% more in trade than they pay in cash. Some, like the Penny Lane and Moby Disc chains, offer 50%. Still others, including Amoeba and Moby Disc, have even more attractive incentives: Shoppers can return any item within seven days and receive 75% of its value in store credit.

Paying full price for new CDs, “you get burned too many times,” said Kathy Sheer. The 26-year-old dancer from Hollywood prefers to buy used records and shops at Aron’s Records on Highland Avenue about twice a month. “It’s, like, why am I spending $24?” Sheer was buying a previously played copy of Ryan Adams’ “Gold” for $8.99 at Amoeba. The same record could cost as much as twice that new.

Aron’s, in business since 1966, is a longtime favorite among indie rock fans. The L.A. institution has the well-worn and comfortable ambience that comes from decades of foot traffic. Less plastic, flashy and predictable than a corporate store, it also has some nice personal touches, including staff-written reviews of new releases and a liberal listening policy that lets shoppers sample used music on their own CD players as they walk around the store. But it’s also right around the corner from the newly opened Amoeba.

“We know what they do, and we know what we do,” said Aron’s owner, Jesse Klempner. “I think we’re as big as we can be and still be a small store. Selection’s a good thing, but it can be too much.”

Like many of the other independently owned stores that are now dwarfed by Amoeba’s size and selection, Aron’s and other stores are banking on their standing in the community and their individual character to keep customers coming back.

“What we have is 28 years of customer loyalty,” said Dave Crouch, owner of Rhino Records in Westwood. “Also, we have a sense of fun.”

With gold floors, purple walls and signs that read “Marilyn Manson loves these guys” and “Nothing says I love you like a box set,” Rhino taps into shoppers’ playful side. Blair Witch dolls, Elvis sunglasses and a vintage pinball machine are all part of the decor at the second Rhino store, which Crouch opened in September three blocks south of its first store.

As nice as its playful ambience is, Crouch knows it isn’t enough to keep him competitive in a market where buyers have more and more options--online and in other stores. Variety and low prices are key.

The new Rhino store is three times the size of its old location, which is now a “Blow-It-Outlet” where all music and movies cost $5 or less. Despite the additional space in his new store, Crouch still can’t stock everything he would like to, so he focuses on quality, not quantity.

“Our approach is to stock the absolute best titles of any genre,” he said. “It’s daunting to go to an artist and find 150 different titles when you really probably might only need the 20 or 25 best.”

That’s a significantly different philosophy from Amoeba’s. The store was founded with the idea of carrying “everything that’s anything,” according to Marc Weinstein, one of the store’s four owners.

“[We] were very idealistic about what we thought record stores could and should be,” said Weinstein, 44, a curly-haired hippie who appears to have taken his fashion cues from Jerry Garcia. “To a certain extent, pure idealism was the genesis for getting into the business.”

Amoeba is the brainchild of Weinstein and Prinz, a former video store owner whom he met in the late ‘80s. Joining forces with Karen Pearson, 40, who also managed a record store in Berkeley at the time, and Mike Boyder, 48, the four opened their first Amoeba store in Berkeley in 1990, 11 years to the day before launching their third location on Sunset.

With only 3,000 square feet and 5,000 used CDs, their first Berkeley store wasn’t the full realization of their vision, but it was enough to enable them to open a second location on Haight Street in San Francisco seven years later. The San Francisco store now sells a mind-boggling average of 5,000 CDs every two days.

Opening day in Hollywood showed that offering prized collectibles and more than 600,000 records and CDs in a cavernous, Home Depot-sized space doesn’t come without its problems.

“It was like a bar scene in there,” said Matthew Bernsen, a 28-year-old production assistant who was smoking a cigarette after shopping at Amoeba. “Three people deep. You had to wait for somebody to finish a row before you stepped up.”

Size doesn’t always matter.

More than a few shoppers know exactly what they’re looking for and want to get in and out of a store as quickly as possible. For them, Amoeba may have too much space to navigate.

Other shoppers may not want to battle the traffic to get to a record store near one of the busiest intersections in Hollywood--a block west of Sunset and Vine. Convenience is one of the reasons many neighborhood stores enjoy strong followings.

Those who are specifically into a single genre may want to be among their tribe, shopping in places that more specifically match their lifestyle--like the punk hovel Destroy All Music in Silver Lake, or the DJ-friendly Beat Non Stop on Melrose.

Even Amoeba’s owners acknowledge that they can’t compete with niche and small specialty shops, especially those catering to the dance and punk communities. Amoeba does not have turntables for previewing discs, but a custom listening system of MP3 files set up in 17 listening stations on the second floor.

“We might have inventory similar to what they have, but not the vibe where if you’re into punk rock, it’s all punk rock T-shirts and records,” said Weinstein, whose own aesthetic is vintage San Francisco.

Amoeba Music on Sunset is a swirl of color. Its interior is practically wallpapered in posters and record sleeves that combine with the store’s vast inventory for an experience that borders on sensory overload.

Whether Amoeba will put any of the area’s other record stores out of business remains to be seen. With more than 20 million people living within driving distance of L.A., there should be room enough for everyone. There is no doubt Amoeba has raised the bar for other stores in the area. In a best-case scenario, it will stimulate the market, not corner it.

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A Look at the Larger Independent Record Stores

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