If there was ever a place that shaped my listening habits and ultimately my career course, Tower Records was it. During my teen years, the Tower Records on Route 17 in Paramus, New Jersey provided respite from the conservative crap that inhabited suburban New Jersey. I would spend entire Saturdays listening to new releases at the listening stations. I'd scour the singles. I'd sit and read Rolling Stone or Spin. I was in heaven. Every time I walked out the doors I'd be anticipating my next return.Throughout college, the Tower on Newbury Street in Boston was my second home. It was massive. When you scurried through the revolving doors you found yourself in a mecca of music. There were FLOORS of cds. Rock was on floor 2, while Folk was floor 4. The t-shirts were on floor 3. I bought hundreds and hundreds of cds there. I spent many Monday nights waiting for the clock to turn to midnight. When it did, the Tower doors would open and the new releases would sit crisply right before your eyes. I bought Wilco's first record at this Tower. And Son Volt's. And tens of others.
The digital age is here for good. And unfortunately that marks the end for Tower Records. The thrill of a manic trip down the aisles of Tower Records left a huge stamp on the early part of my life. Nirvana. Uncle Tupelo. The Replacements. Public Enemy. The Kinks. I discovered them all at Tower.
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