Going
way back, there was the weird and wonderful Silvio’s Emporium on Cuba Street, a
treasure trove of pick n mix delight, a shop that ceased to exist sometime back
in the early Nineties, maybe even a bit earlier. There was the self-proclaimed “largest
record shop in New Zealand”, Chelsea Records, in Manners Mall, which I think eventually
got swallowed up by one of the large faceless chains. And more recently, right
up until a couple of years ago, there was Real Groovy Records, also on Cuba, a
shop with just about everything any self-respecting music consumer could
possibly wish for.
But
to conclude the Retail Therapy series of posts, I wanted to write a little bit
about Slow Boat Records, an institution in Wellington music retailing. Unlike
all of the above – and the two Wellington stores I’ve blogged about previously –
Slow Boat is still operating, still a going concern as Cuba Street survivors for
more than a quarter of a century. Selling both new and used music, in every
format, stuff from all eras.
When
I wrote about the Atomic and 24-Hour Party People nights at San Francisco Bath House recently (SFBH being just along the strip), I identified the sense of
community at the venue as being something pivotal to the success of those
nights. That same sense of community, indeed, a wide circle within the very same
community, has been at the heart of the Slow Boat success story.
Owner
Dennis O’Brien is himself a local muso of some renown, and he leads a
passionate and knowledgeable team. Nothing ever feels too rushed at Slow Boat, it’s
a great place to browse, or just to hang out as a voyeur. A place to feed off the
sort of warm organic vibe you can only get amid racks and bins of pre-loved
product. It is easy to get a little lost in there sometimes, even if the carefully
categorised sections ensure you can never really stray too far.
It’s
just a little thing, but I really like the display of Slow Boat’s picks for the
greatest albums of all-time, taking pride of place over on the far wall. Something
like that works on several levels, most obviously as inspiration to finally
pick up that “all-timer” you’ve always wanted but never quite got around to
buying. But it also works as a discussion point, and it informs the punter that
these guys have a sense of history … a love of what they do. It’s an
acknowledgement that for all that popular music is so often about the present,
about the now, it also has a rich and vibrant past, and Slow Boat is a place where
you can engage with that. It feels a bit like an inadvertent mission statement …
of sorts.
In
the opening post of this series I bemoaned the fact that nowadays I don’t get
across town to Slow Boat often enough. I’m really going to have to do something
about that. In my defence, I did many times set out on lunch-break treks across
town, with Real Groovy the target destination, only to run out of time because browsing
at Slow Boat got in the way. I could never quite make it all the way up Cuba
Street within the allotted hour … and now I have no reason to.
So
perhaps I’ll have to revive a Friday night routine from a few years back and
make the effort to get there more often. Whatever happens, it’s nice to know
Slow Boat Records is still an option for me, a throwback to the past, one that just
keeps on giving …
I
reckon the small but nostalgia-rich New Zealand music sections at Slow Boat are
among the best I’ve ever seen, especially in terms of used vinyl, but more
generally across all formats. Here’s a tribute to indie record stores from NZ
band The Brunettes …
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