WPL.A. graphic by Vivian Martinez
“Waxing Philosophical, L.A.” is DUM DUM’s biweekly Tuesday column written by Christina Gubala, co-founder of L.A.’s premier cassette-tape label, Complicated Dance Steps. A die-hard vinyl collector, you can find her spinning records at local bars near you.
Our city has a continuing history thick with vinyl love, now more than ever with record shops opening their doors instead of shuttering. Each week, Gubala breaks down a fresh new wax purchase, and writes about the record store as well, mapping it as part of L.A.’s history in the making.
“There is a new record store in Los Feliz.”
The words hit me one autumn evening and in disbelief, I pressed for more information. “What’s the deal? All vinyl? New or used? What’s the price-range?” With every question came the kind of answer I’d been hoping for.
High Fidelity Records is a stone’s throw away from the Mustard Seed Cafe, and its prices are enticing. “How’s the $8 record selection?” I asked, because I firmly believe that a good record store can be spotted by the records it sells for under $10. I was assured it was worth a peek right away. The store had been open for a day as of November 14, and already the foot-traffic was making it worth their while.
It was an exciting prospect for any Los Feliz denizen. Even since Vacation shuttered its Hollywood Blvd. storefront to open their new location at Sunset Junction, the neighborhood had been aching for a purveyor of fine wax. On their third day of business, I took a slow drive past the location to peek inside. The space looked inviting, well-lit and sleek. The layout of the bins was logical and provided ample room for people to take their time without impeding fellow shoppers. The flickering electric sign, instantly charming, created the sense that the store had been there all along and we’d all only just noticed it. Finding parking wasn’t terribly challenging, but be warned: it certainly can be in that neighborhood.
I ditched the vehicle and poked my head in the store. A conversation was underway between the gregarious clerk and a lovely young mother who was asking questions about the store. I evesdropped as a leafed through their New and Reissued Rock section: everyone working at High Fidelity had been former employees of the late great Aron’s Records, the famously well-stocked casualty of Amoeba’s advent in Hollywood. They had been looking for a storefront all over the east side from Hollywood to Echo Park, but were all really pleased to be on Hillhurst. The neighborhood had been treating them well so far.
I interrupted to ask if they were planning on carrying cassette tapes, and Stan, the clerk whom I recognized as DJ Sacred from many a weary Low End Theory, assured me that they intended to, as they had been talking to Matthewdavid from Leaving Records. I was a little overexcited as I quickly made my rounds through the bins, finding record after record that I genuinely wanted or had been seeking. I could have spent at least $50 on that first night, but in the spirit of making myself a regular, I limited myself to just Tears for Fears’ The Seeds of Love and promised to come back the next day.
Making good on my promise, I found myself at High Fidelity a second time that week. I’d spotted The Beta Band’s Heros to Zeros the night before, and it had taken 24 hours for me to realize the inherent Nick Hornsby-inspired humor in picking up a Beta Band record at a store called High Fidelity. I grabbed it right away, and when I got to the front counter, I shook hands with owner Michael Hobson for the first time. Michael is a life force to behold. The enthusiasm brimming from his every sentence is intoxicating and one can’t help but listen in disbelief as he meanders through his own past, explaining how he somehow ended up with J.J. Cale’s speakers in the back room or what it was like to reissue Led Zeppelin and The Who records via his vinyl pressing venture, Classic Records.
In the glass cabinet under the register, futuristic devices called “streamers” gazed back at me, and Michael explained that he had invented them to act as digital to analog converters for mp3 players. His sensitive ears had guided him to develop the streamers and he proudly gave me a loud example of their capabilities. The wine glass in his hand was more than just an eccentric prop, as he offered one to each person who came through the front door. High Fidelity was certainly shaping up to be more and more multifaceted with each visit.
For the first few weeks they were open, I tried to go in frequently. Driving home from work around 10pm, I’d notice their doors still open and wander in, checking the recent arrivals to make sure I wasn’t missing out on the back stock they had trickling in. The records they stock are nothing if not interesting: Devendra Banhart, Captain Beyond, The Human Beinz, Love’s Third Coming, double vinyl Arrested Development, Flowchart, Slave, and Loose Ends all caught my eye. Remarkably, everything was reasonably priced. I was hard-pressed to find a record for more than $25, and the $8-$15 price tags on most of the records made me want to buy at least one item each time I came into the store.
Even more tantalizingly, the store has a customer loyalty program in place: you earn points for each purchase, which you can then put towards discounts on future purchases (I’ve done it, and it’s worth it!). Their stellar jazz section is worth witnessing with one’s own eyes; they have a separate bin for the Classic Records extreme audiophile re-releases, and the sound system display in the back of the store offers a comfortable chair to anyone who wishes to see how refined music can sound.
I found myself in the audiophile chair last night with a glass of wine and an Echo and the Bunnymen record poised and ready for evaluation. If Michael is on the premises, it’s likely that any given record in the store could end up on the turntable upon request, so I opted to begin my review of Reverberation before I even left the store. I had been eying the shamelessly psychedelic cover art and found great joy in the fact that I’d discovered the nomenclature origins of one of my favorite KXLU radio programs.
Even I wasn’t prepared for the Smiths-ish extravaganza awaiting me. Noel Burke’s vocal work is pitch-perfect and soaring, stretching its wings on colorful waltzes like the b-side’s “Thick Skinned World” and the exhilarating “Devilment.” The guitar tone evokes the optimism of The Sunday’s Blind, an aesthetic that’s explained by the record’s 1990 release, as is the appearance of a mournful accordion on “Flaming Red.” To my delight, I overheard at least three unique customers ask what was currently playing, all fondling the eye-catching sleeve. It felt like a true High Fidelity moment, both in the literary and literal sense, and I paused to appreciate life imitating art per Michael Hobson’s orchestration.
High Fidelity Records has brought a smile to my face every single time I have visited, and I earnestly hope they are in it for the long haul.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011