7 Disappointments of the Aughts

After reading so many Best Albums Of The Decade/Most Shocking Moments/Tastiest McDonald’s Frozen Snacks Lists, I decided to do one of my own. Coming up with my own topic didn’t take nearly as long as it probably should. So here is my list of the seven events of the 00’s that totally bummed me out (and bum me out still, when I think about them). I was going to do a complementary article about the best events, but I’m just not that happy a person. If you’re not from Durham, you won’t know what half these things are, but I’m sure the sentiment is pretty universal.

Barcelona Breaks Up (2002)

A few years before nerds somehow became cool and The Killers and Interpol made everyone ache for the sounds of the 80s, Barcelona broke out of Arlington, VA with keyboard-heavy pop songs about computer camp and parental disapproval of homemade robots. I discovered them right after the release of their second album Zero One Infinity. The lead track, “Studio Hair Gel”, name-checked not only my mullet-styling product of choice circa-1988, but also Robert Smith and Howard Jones. The whole album reminded me of college when I would crank up Violator and try to get that damned Pascal program working so I wouldn’t flunk Computer Science 101. I waited patiently for the next album which would hopefully bring about a tour stop near me.

Transhuman Revolution emerged in 2001, and I began checking their website daily for tour news. Then one day, I was greeted with a message from the lead singer/songwriter Jason Korzen announcing that the band would play their final show at the Metro in DC, then quietly go their separate ways. To this day, I regret not making every effort to be at that show. Three albums in three years was too short of a courtship. Nine years later, and I’m still pissed that they just fizzled out right about the time they could have made it big (they were even mentioned in Vanilla Sky, which is something, right?).

Two years after Barcelona called it quits, Korzen’s new band, Sprites, would lead off their first record with the track “Do It Yourself”. The chorus chimes brightly: “never start a band/with a best friend/never shake hands/never make plans/you should really find/somebody else/you ought to go it alone/you ought to do it yourself”. Maybe there was more to the story than most of us will ever know.

Chuck Jones Dies (2002)

I’m very proud of my sense of humor. It’s been a defense mechanism that has served me well as far back as I can remember. I learned at an early age to be able to tell the difference between cartoons by Tex Avery, Robert McKimson, Bob Clampett, and Chuck Jones without having to see the opening credits. I have a soft spot for all of them, but Chuck was always my favorite.

There’s something about the way he draws expressions that’s at once almost-too-cute and slightly menacing. I enjoy his Tom & Jerry series better than the “classic” period. I thought The Phantom Tollbooth was whimsical in the best way. To this day, I search for occasions to ask “do you want to shoot him now, or wait ‘til you get home?” in everyday conversation (no easy task, mind you, thanks to heightened paranoia in the age of terrorism and school shootings).

Imagine my glee, then, when I realized that Chuck was sitting mere paces away from me during a tour of the Duke University Primate Center. I was there with my wife Heather*, who was trying to get an office job there, and she was showing me around a little bit. I looked into a darkened room where the nocturnal animals were kept, and instantly recognized the glasses and rounded face of my Saturday morning hero. I asked if it was really him, and she said “Yes it is. The Center has celebrities come take tours all the time.”

“Well then, I’m going to go in and meet him.”

“You can’t do that; he’s in the middle of the tour, and I’m sure he doesn’t want some strange over-grown child geeking out all over him. Besides, I’m trying to get a job here, and it wouldn’t look good if I let my husband harass a guest.” Forlorn, I agreed to keep moving and preserve my wife’s career aspirations.

Within two years, he was dead. I like to remind Heather of this whenever possible. You’re welcome, dear.

Radio Free Records closes forever (2003)

I grew up 30 miles from the nearest record store, and it was a mall chain store (so it had a “selection”, but the prices were always insulting). Whereas this might not have affected many of the people in my hometown, for me, it was like living in the Sahara 30 miles from the nearest canteen that charged $10 for a bottle of Aquafina.

I got a taste of a real record store when I went to college, but it was still a small town operation that relied heavily on special ordering rather than a Rubenesque inventory. Still, the situation was improving. By the time I arrived in Durham, North Carolina in 1996, I was like a dog at a squeaky toy convention. There were large chain stores and a dozen local franchises and mom-and-pop establishments to choose from (not to mention all the places to buy used). If one place didn’t have it, surely another one would.

Then one day, I got some word-of-mouth news: a new store had opened up called Radio Free Records. They didn’t carry a lot of mainstream stuff, I was told, but if your tastes ran a little more eclectic, it was definitely worth checking out.

We sauntered in just before 9 o’clock, panicked that they were going to close and kick us out before we had a chance to really browse. We walked in, and there was no “they,” just a mild-mannered but friendly guy behind the counter. He introduced himself as the owner and asked if we needed any help. We told him we were looking for some classic punk, and he pointed to the punk section. Bikini Kill? Check. Suicidal Tendencies? Check. Dead Kennedys? Check. Black Flag’s Damaged? Would you like the import version with the Jealous Again EP tacked on the end, or the regular domestic?

As we made our selections, I glanced around the rest of the store, which was housed in a wood and brick building that listed slightly toward the back and noticed all the collectible records lined up along the tops of the shelves. Krautrock. Psychedelic. Drone Rock. 20^th Century Composers, which housed not only John Cage, but works by Thurston Moore and Nels Cline. Of course, there was also Heavy Metal, Country, and just “Rock”, but the fact that so many niches were catered to, and lovingly so, made my heart swell.

Needless to say, I rarely went anywhere else if I was really looking for something. Then, in 2002, the worst possible news traveled along the college radio message boards: Radio Free Records had been broken into, and over 4,000 items had been stolen. Ethan (the owner) didn’t have theft insurance, and was never going to be able to recoup his losses. It looked like the end. Ads were taken out in the local papers asking the thieves to return the items anonymously, with no charges pressed. Fundraisers and benefit concerts sprang up almost overnight, and within a few months, Radio Free opened its doors once more. I was glad to see that I was not the only one in town who loved Ethan and what he was doing. And yes, we are really passionate about our record stores.

I’ve never been completely sure that my theory is correct, but I imagine that Ethan had been struggling all along, and the robbery was the perfect reason to pack up his toys and go home. But when the community rallies around your modest cause like that, it’s hard to say “no, really, thanks, but I want to go home”. It does seem telling, however, that just over a year after the robbery, Radio Free did quietly close its doors for good.

About a year ago, they tore down the old abandoned building. I would still drive by there from time to time, picturing the layout of the store, the pristine original copy of Bryter Layter above the M section in Rock, and the cash register with a sticker that read “I threw up”. There’s another great independent record store in Chapel Hill, and I like it a lot, but it’s a much further drive from where I live now, and well, you know. I guess you never really get over your first love.

Joey Ramone dies (2001)

I don’t think I really have to say much here. Yes, I realize that two other Ramones died in the past decade, but Joey was the first, it was a shock, and it happened right after I had finally come around to recognizing that the Ramones really were as great as people claimed. Heather got to meet him once. I never even saw them live. Bummer.

All but one Vis-Art closes (2007-2008)

I have a confession to make. I’m partially responsible for the rapid decline of brick-and-mortar video rental stores. I’ve been a Netflix subscriber since 2003. I quit going to Vis-Art on a regular basis around 2005. But it was nice to know that it was there. Now there’s only one left (in Carrboro). When I moved here, before the age of DVDs (I know!), there were four, with another that opened in the early aughts.

They carried all the blockbusters, of course, but they also had shelves devoted to Jim Jarmusch, Jean-Luc Godard, Troma, Russ Meyer, Sundance winners, silent movies, and Independent Cinema. They still had a VHS copy of Urgh! A Music War. There were all sorts of oddities scattered about, from comically redubbed versions of Night of the Living Dead (ala What’s Up, Tiger Lily?) to short 8mm films from local aspiring filmmakers.

Each Vis-Art location was a library devoted to the history and preservation of cinema, no matter how esoteric or trifling. It was the kind of place that would have to stock more than one copy of the Criterion edition of Rashomon. It catered to anyone and everyone. While Netflix sure is convenient as hell (and I can stream it to my TV! Whee!), I believe that losing institutions like Vis-Art are only going to hurt us in the long run.

Star-Lite Drive-In burns, reopens, closes

Durham used to have a drive-in theater. It had been around for decades. It was also a flea market, a video rental store, and a gun shop. They served greasy burgers and fries at the concession stand, but they also encouraged tailgaiting. We would go, lay out the blankets, put something on the grill, and watch whatever crappy movie they happened to be showing, because any movie is enjoyable at the drive-in. I’m sure Scooby Doo 2 and The Fast and The Furious are actually terrible movies, but I remember them fondly because it was an experience. Every now and then, they would show some classic drive-in fare, like Superfly or Death Race 2000. How cool is that?

When a storage shed with hundreds of old movie posters and prints burned, taking the giant screen with it, I saw a local band showcase played there to raise money to rebuild the screen. I even donated money to buy lumber for the screen, and my name was on a plaque (along with many, many others) inside the concessions building. Sadly, it was for naught, for within a year of reopening (The Dukes of Hazard was the first movie shown after the fire, and the General Lee actually showed up in person), the owner died suddenly. The only reason it was still open was because for him, it was a labor of love. There really was no money to be made (probably why it was also a flea market, gun shop, etc.), and the City saw an opportunity to repurpose the land. The last time I drove by, there was still a nice, new screen facing away from the highway, toward a silent, empty field peppered with old speaker stands. I like to imagine that it is still littered with stray beer cans and popcorn bags (but that’s not very eco-friendly, is it?).

Mystery Science Theater 3000 ends

Okay, I know it went off the air in 1999, but man, this one still stings.

*Editor’s note: Don’t harsh on the Baroness – it’s a different Heather who puts up with that Chuck Jones story being brought up every ten minutes.

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