Amoeba Music

I was dropping off my debut original CD called "EAT YOUR SAD" on consignment in Hollywood (a service I totally appreciate, btw), when I noticed an upcoming event: a Stewart Copeland book signing. The Police are my favorite rock group. In fact, I purposefully hired a number of players to record my CD who have subsequently worked with Sting and Andy Summers on post-Police projects. So, when the day came around, I was in the front of the line at Amoeba. I obviously bought Stewart's book, but I also brought a rare album for him to sign from before he was in The Police. He freaked out about it. It was cool... What a nice guy :-)

I saw Patti Smith perform live at the Hollywood location. The date was May 4, 2007. I got to Amoeba early enough that I was to get close to the stage. Seeing a genuine icon perform in a small, intimate setting was magic. I have the utmost respect for Patti Smith and I'm grateful Amoeba made seeing her possible.

Amoeba is the best record store ever. You can find anything there and the inventory is changing daily. Without Amoeba I doubt I would have been able to finish my Elliott Smith vinyl collection of all original first pressings, my Beck, Mtv Make Me Want To Smoke Crack 7", my Pavement, Slay Tracks 7", or my Built To Spill, There Is Nothing Wrong With Love 12", and so much more it is hard to remember. Thanks Amoeba!

I am from Connecticut and I live in record stores and I had always heard about the Amboeba store but never had the chance to go to one. I finally made the trip out to San Francisco and the first thing I did when I got there was head straight to the store. When I got in I couldn't believe what I saw. Record stores in CT (the two that exsist) are about the size of the entrance to your store. I b-lined it to the vinyl and instantly knew I was in heaven. The highlight of my finds was probably Call The Doctor by Sleater-Kinney on vinyl, hard to find because it was before they were on Kill Rock Stars. I had saved up a lot of money to spend in the hopes I would find a lot of records and I sure did. I pack light and only brought one bag with me and I had no room for all the records I bought so I had to wear all my clothes home on the plane.

I will never forget the kindness of the Amoeba staff in June of 2007. I was one of the hundreds of folks camped out on the sidewalk on Ivar for the free Paul McCartney show. The staff was so wonderful to us - bringing us water and covering for our heads from the heat, providing us with round-the-clock security, and treating us with love and respect. When we finally made it into the store after three days on the pavement, the staff members were lined up on either side of the entrance, smiling and clapping for us, as if we had just completed a marathon! We got free t-shirts, too! I pledged my undying loyalty to Amoeba and its wonderful staff that day - I would never shop for music or movies anywhere else! Thanks, you guys!!!

Amoeba does it right. I knew that when I walked into the Berkeley store. It cannot be 20 years ago, but it was. My memorable story related to Amoeba is short and brief. I was browsing for things I did not even know that I wanted nor could really afford (welcome to every trip to SF Amoeba for me) and came across the Tom Waits bin, which I had come for in the first place. I found a couple of albums I had never heard so I had to do the Amoeba shuffle. Putting down my pile I went back and forth on items I had picked to see what to keep and what to toss back so I could get the most for my trip. I look up and in the isle just on the other side of me is Tom Waits, shopping. We had met a few times and he actually remembered where we had run into each other the previous time. We chatted for a moment or two and he noticed one of the albums I was purchasing was from him, he chuckled a bit. It was fun, I went home with some great music and he signed one of the albums I was purchasing. Cool indeed! Amoeba = so much to buy, so little time...

I usually go to Amoeba when I am in LA. This time I guess it was no different. I don't even remember why I was in LA in the first place. But something cosmic was in the air for sure. That night I park a few blocks down. About a block from Amoeba a car rushes by and I feel a stinging on my stomach. I looked down and there in my hand is an unbroken egg. I caught the egg while protecting myself from whatever was flying at me. To some miracle the egg did not break. This in itself was just crazy to me. As I pass the Arclight I bump into none other than Jamie Foxx, coming out of the premiere of his great turn as one of my musical heroes Ray Charles. As I was taken off guard and still a bit bewieldered by the egg incident that just happened about a minute ago I say nothing. I don't get star struck to easily, though I do appreciate the mans art. So far I have had an interesting 15 minutes and I haven't even looked for any records. As I walk in the store I realize that it is about to close (Meaning in like 30 min or something which seriously you might as well not go in if you only have that much time and you plan on hunting). The store is like a ghost town which is pretty rare. Just about 5 min into my visit I look up and see none other than the man himself. My god damn idle! Elvis Costello! And no one was in the store! He was just sitting there by himself at a table! It was kind of spooky. Where were the people. Fuck! Why didn't I know about this! I guess it was the end of a signing and there was no one left. But seriously, no one. Not even a friend for him to talk to at the table. I go to his section and pick up King of America. One of my favorite album covers of his. I was wearing a western shirt and he said he liked my shirt a lot. Everything after that is hazy but I do know that that compliment of that shirt follows it around everywhere.

this is a love story. I have literally walked by Amoeba, 100s of times as I went to Hollywood High...I never walked in though because for some reason i felt like I wasn't 'indie' or cool enough...I only finally went in after I graduated high school...I of course was completely fucking amazed at how awesome the store is...a giant warehouse full of music..genius...I took this boy John there that I was doing a musical with who I was so crushing on..like deep...He was the perfect guy to take there...he likes the most obscure bands with names like Panda Bear and... I cant even remember what else but you know, cool sensitive awesome guy bands. we of course went to the Soundtrack section where the musicals are located(where I now live and have spent hours in) and flipped through CDs...we came to "The Light in the Piazza" and we both said "ugh i love this" at the same time...and then he began singing the song "Love to Me" uh...to me. I died, so died. As we were walking out he grabbed my hand. A few weeks later when we were watching the Perseids meteor shower, he started singing it...It sounds so cheesy when I write it all down, but it was beautiful in real life, and it would not have happened had we not gone into Amoeba that day.

You’ve been there. The dollar bin. It’s on the ground there, in an old cardboard box under the death metal shelf, unassuming, mysterious. It smiles and winks at you because it knows you think you have a chance. Strictly statistically speaking, most dollar bin experiences end one of two ways. Either: a) you walk away empty-handed after shuffling through endless cracked-plastic cases of Engelbert Humperdinck’s greatest hits, the Bhumfuk Orkestra’s extended-release collection of Wohlfahrt etudes, and at least one Barbara Streisand (once called the Gideons Bible of used record bins); or b) an unfamiliar but artful album cover catches your otherwise mothball-scorched eyes, so you decide to throw your dollar to the ever-hopeful wind... and then - yes, you know it well - that brief period of elation while the album, still unheard, holds all wondrous mysteries in the etchings on its gleaming surface, and you get home, and you rush to your speakers, and with trembling hands unfold its jewel-case cradle, click the disc into position and press play, only suddenly to find your innocent eardrums assaulted with white-hot ice picks of pain and sonic despair... alas, sometimes you get what you pay for, but sometimes one must wonder what really goes on in all those amplified garages across America... But sometimes, ah, sometimes, that taped-together Washington you found in your ass pocket lands you a true gem. Some holy hand has graced that kicked-in box with something truly funky, or something endearingly ridiculous enough to merit repeat listens with an understanding and pacifist friend. As an otherwise deadbeat with a deep-seated affinity for music (the best mixer for my whiskey), I once decided to dedicate more time to that little box, given I felt rich enough to dish out for what is admittedly a weakness of mine. Good music! Or maybe ridiculous music! Or maybe terrible music I would employ as a soundtrack to humanity shitting itself out of spite. Nothing is holy. But one thing does come close to holy, and that, my friends, is the dollar bin at your friendly neighborhood Amoeba. Because the California gold rush lives on through its kicked-in corners. Behold, for there I found such titles as Booker T and the MGs (Melting Pot), Django Reinhardt (Paris 1945), some Budos Band/Sharon Jones and the Dap Kings sampler, The Unicorns (Who Will Cut Our Hair), Tiger Army (Tiger Army III: Ghost Tigers Rise) and on one glorious day, both Radiodread AND Dub Side of the Moon. Plus, I got something at Amoeba I’ll never get rid of. A terrible gnawing guilt that I’ll never live long enough to listen to more than a tiny fraction of what they’ve got.

Amoeba Hollywood is like my movie version of Alice in Wonderland.I am in awe everytime my husband and I enter into the store.It is such a fantasy.I always have intentions on coming to the store to buy one CD.Instead I leave with a big charge on my credit card.I love the staff.They are so damn helpful.So they always,always,always help me find everything I am looking for, and make suggestions on what else I may like.It works.I buy it too.There is no other store where 2 hours goes by so fast, and you still want to look some more.The list never gets shorter.I love this wonderland. Thanks