The number of chain record stores nationwide has dwindled. However, St. Louis has become an unlikely safe haven for indie record shops as well as for DJs who prefer to spin the black circle instead of scrolling their iPods. In this weekly column, we'll focus on personal portraits of St. Louis' record aficionados and the rooms where they store their treasures. Meet the last collectors standing. (Know a collector who deserves the spotlight? E-mail us.)
Safety Words, a local production duo previously featured in Last Collector Standing, recommended we talk to avid crate-digger and musician Mike Zapf. Zapf's life has been consumed by music - both playing and collecting it -- since high school. We sat down in the record room of his second story University City apartment and talked about the competitive element of record collecting and the Sylvers record that almost ended a good friendship.
Last Collector Standing: How many records do you own? Mike Zapf: Over a thousand. That's a ballpark [estimate].
Do you think future generations of record collectors will ever amass a collection of that size? Yeah. Barring an apocalyptic event, I would imagine. While I'm sure every day thousands of records are thrown away or destroyed, there are still plenty out there. At this point [record collecting] is a thing again, and people are pressing them up again. I still see ample opportunities for kids to amass large collections.
How will digital music affect the culture of record collecting? I think it is going to turn into a specific personality type that is going to continue to buy records. Access-wise with digital stuff, if you want to find anything, you can. People still actively go out and buy records and go to grimy spots [and] get dirty and dusty digging for stuff. It's still about the thrill of the hunt - finding something that they've never heard of that blows their mind. For my own mental health, sometimes I have to go out on a digging mission. With digital stuff, you don't have to do that. I think the more organic form of discovery doesn't mean as much to [digital listeners]. It's going to be about personality types.
What is the experience of going out hunting for records like for you? There are several elements for me. One is almost like an archaeological [experience]. There is history deep in every record. For a while in various spots all throughout the city, I was finding records that had the name Uncle Earl written on [them]. They were all awesome records. At some point Uncle Earl got rid of his collection and it got spread out to various junk stores and flea markets. I find them and obviously align with his taste. I like to think of the various owners whose hands [records] have passed through to get to that point where I got it. As much as it's about the music that is on the records, there is a connection - the discovery and rediscovery of lost artifacts.
So what was Uncle Earl's musical taste? He had a lot of funk and a lot of late '70s early '80s hip-hop. A bunch of Sugar Hill [label records].
How would you describe your collection? The majority is soul, funk, hip-hop and rock, but I could go through there and find half a dozen bird call records. [Laughs] For whatever reason, at one point I was like, "I need to have this canary record." Nothing would strike me to go look up on the computer bird calls, but I was like, "Oh, this might be interesting." When I got those it was almost the same thing as an impulse buy. Over the years, I've learned to discipline myself from buying oddball records just because it has a cool cover.
What's been your favorite experience hunting for vinyl? When I was nineteen or twenty, my mom was friends with this lady. She wanted some yard work done. I went over [to her house] and was doing some work. When I was getting stuff out of the garage, I saw a couple crates [of records] and a box of 45s. [They] had leaves and crap piled on [them]. I went through it, and it was awesome stuff. One of my favorite 45s that I've ever gotten was from that day. [I asked], "Instead of paying me can I just take these records?" She said, "You'd be doing me a favor getting rid of them." It was a crate full of heat. I got this 45 of Ricco Wake and Tyrome Burrell "Smash Inflation." Oliver Sain produced it. Made in Archway Sound Studios in St. Louis.
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