Watch Foo Fighters’ Mini-Doc About Rocking a Small Town Shop on Record Store Day
Oh, you thought Dave Grohl was taking a day off? No, he’s just off making another documentary. For Record Store Day this year, official RSD ambassador Dave Grohl and his Foo Fighters played a show at a small-town record store called the Record Connection in Niles, Ohio. It’s a short jaunt away from Grohl’s birthplace of Warren, but close enough for a semi-hometown visit.
The band has shared a short documentary about the experience, detailing the story behind the owner of the Record Connection, Jeff Burke, who 32 years ago opened the shop against the wishes of his father. The clip shows the ridiculously huge amount of gear required to set up a proper Foos performance. Also included is a cantankerously killer version of Wasting Light‘s “White Limo”.
The video documents pre-show preparation as crew members load an astounding amount of gear into the tiny space before cutting to a performance of “White Limo”. There’s also an interview with who wanted him to open an ice cream store instead.
The local indie record store used to be a sacred place for music lovers like you and me, people for whom music is so much more than a means to fill the silence. Long before the three-click convenience of the internet, the only place a fan could reliably find those limited-edition pressings, rarities, posters and hard-to-find merchandise would be in the darker corners of your local record shop. There always seemed to be at least one in every college town, and finding them was almost as much fun as finally tracking down that rare Wipers vinyl or (sickeningly overpriced) Dylan bootleg from ‘69 that you’d been looking for since before you could tie your own shoes. They were the go-to spot for hipsters and fanboys to mingle and expose one another to underground gems, the guy behind the counter making no effort to conceal his elitist, condescending smirk while ringing up your selections. It was all a part of the experience.
The internet has unceremoniously rendered these gems entirely obsolete, bringing every musical Holy Grail a fan could dream of to their fingertips with a few clicks and keystrokes. Forever gone are the midnight release party rituals, the mystery and exhilaration of discovering a new album in person.
Now, we are reduced to celebrating the rare finds we come across, hoping that our few bucks will buoy the business enough to stay open another day. It’s a losing battle, so enjoy ’em while you can.