All Hail the Coming of Kim's

Upon entering an amazing record store, one can be transported to a different world. I'm not referring to the cookie-cutter retail chains like Tower and Warehouse Music. I am talking about real record stores where the walls are plastered with posters that may sport the logos of bands and labels that no one has heard of; where the bins are filled with CDs released by record labels called SpinArt and Merge and Saddle Creek instead of Columbia, Virgin, and Warner Brothers; and where the staff knows more (or at least acts like they do) than virtually any customer could ever hope to know about music.

Growing up outside of Chicago, I was fortunate enough to have Dr. Wax. It remains an amazing little store filled with vinyl, an epic "underground" CD section, and stacks of zines and free arts papers by the door.

I've had heated discussions with the Dr. Wax staff about everyone from Nusrat Fateh Ali Khan to Calexico. I've stapled posters upon the store's hallowed walls to advertise upcoming shows and in turn I have taken some of the band promo posters home and hung them with pride on my bedroom walls. Dr. Wax was an oasis for me growing up, an island populated by other folks with far too large record collections and plenty of obsessively considered opinions about music.

When I came to New York City for college, the thing I was most thrilled about was the music scene. Bootleg tapes of Jeff Buckley's New Year's Eve show at the Mercury Lounge, stories about Matador Records' home office (the label that altered my life with albums from Liz Phair and Pavement and Belle & Sebastian), and tales of Lou Reed living in the East Village contributed to a mythology that wafted across the terrain of Ohio and Indiana until it settled in my upstairs bedroom in Illinois.

If Dr. Wax had served as an oasis from football games, pep rallies, and keg parties, then New York City and its music scene was essentially my Mecca--a city filled with little record stores, bookstores, cafes and lots and lots of rock clubs. What did I know of Starbucks and Barnes & Noble's plot to take over Manhattan? But the corporate takeover has not squashed my rock 'n' roll Mecca of New York City, even if I still have to trek all the way downtown to places like Brownies, Sound and Fury, the Mercury Lounge, and Kim's to realize it.

But now, a little piece of Mecca is finally coming uptown! And this all leads back to why I am translating these words from fleeting ecstatic thoughts to binary code. On Thursday night, I had the odd pleasure of exploring the half-finished retail space that will be Kim's Mediapolis (2900 Broadway at 113th St.). With a crowd that mixed the indie rock hipsters of CMJ Music Marathon event with a Sunday barbecue for a Korean church, the scene most certainly was unusual. As the avant-guard jazz saxophone performance gave way to a troupe of Korean drummers, the group came to life. The crowd began to intermingle with the drummers in an excited hand-clapping, knee-bending dance as Mr. Kim himself joined hands with friends and strangers in a joyous jig to christen the new branch of his fantastic independent media/real record store empire.

When we were all tuckered out from the dancing, the traditional music gave way to San Diego's Gogogo Airheart, who jumped about on the cold concrete stage and delivered raw rock 'n' roll in the spirit of so many New York shows that came before him. As the fresh fruit, hors d'oeuvres, and cans of beer were consumed, and the music moved from jazz to traditional to rock, I grew more and more thrilled. In a neighborhood on a university campus where we have seen the increasing encroachment of Citibank, Starbucks, and Barnes & Noble, we are now fortunate to be getting a New York City institution.

Though Kim's might not stock Billboard's Top 10, it will most definitely have the albums on the top of the College Radio charts. The staff will actually get to choose the music that emanates through its speakers as opposed to some board appointed by Richard Branson. Most importantly, a little piece of that downtown music community will finally be closer at hand for kids like me who are constantly searching for (most often futilely) other Columbians with whom to discuss the latest Bonnie "Prince" Billy and Crooked Fingers CDs.

Even with empty, unfinished shelves, exposed concrete floors, and the construction workers' half finished box of donuts serving as the décor, Kim's brought together a disparate horde of people and entertained us all on Thursday night. I am anxious to see it finished, stocked, and staffed for everyone with an open mind and a curious streak to explore and enjoy.