The record stores that raised me

Back in the day, when I first got into record shopping, my main destinations were mall stores, because that’s what I was used to as a kid. I started buying 45s every Friday at the local shopping centers in my neighborhood. As I got older, my musical influences changed, and I wanted to explore other music options that might be out there.

After getting a job at a local mall record store, I noticed we didn’t carry much of the music I was starting to get into. I checked with our affiliates and other mall stores and realized they were in the same situation. One day, I got in my car and started driving around, hoping to find something new, store-wise.

I was driving in the USF area one day (on Fletcher) when I noticed a sign that said, “Vinyl Fever… we carry records and CDs.” I was so excited to find something new, but honestly, I was a little scared to go in at first because I had never gone to a mom-and-pop establishment before. But as soon as I walked in, I knew I was home, the clientele (a lot of alternative-looking people) and the amazing selection made it feel right.

Vinyl Fever quickly became a Friday payday tradition. I would go every week to look for the newest imports I had read about in the British music papers. And of course, being the curious person I am, I started conversations with everyone working in the store so I could run my mouth about music.

One of the first people I got to know at Vinyl Fever was a guy named Steve, who eventually got so tired of me asking about new releases that his go-to answer became, “Mike… it’s out of print.” (lol)

After years of shopping at Vinyl Fever, I started following the adventures of one of the employees, Pete Barless, who went on to open his own record store, Alternative Records, on Nebraska. I became a huge fan of the store and pretty much spent most of my paycheck there on Fridays. (You see a pattern developing?)

I got to know Pete pretty well, and by chance, I’d often bring bands by the store, bands that were playing in town that night, usually hanging out with them before their soundcheck.

Other stores also became part of my musical adventures, including Daddy Kool Records and Bananas in St. Pete. Daddy Kool, of course, is more than just a record store, it became part of the backbone of Tampa Bay’s alternative and punk scene through its deep connection to No Clubs, the legendary Tampa Bay concert promoters who helped define the region’s musical identity for decades. Daddy Kool, No Clubs, and Focus Magazine were all intertwined, feeding off one another and helping local fans like me discover new music long before the internet made everything accessible.

That history is being celebrated again with “Live Since ’85,” a special art exhibit opening Jan. 3 at The Factory St. Pete. The exhibit honors 40 years of No Clubs, showcasing concert posters, fliers, photos, and the stories behind the shows, from the Ramones to Kendrick Lamar. It’s a tribute not just to the promoters themselves, Tony Rifugiato and Dave Hundley, but to the venues, the bands, and the record stores, like Daddy Kool, that built an entire ecosystem for live music in Tampa Bay.

Then, after moving to NYC in the mid-90s (I had lived there for a year in ’86, working at Tower Records and buying from every conceivable record store in the city), I finally got the chance to work in the business, record labels, while still working part-time and buying records all over town.

These record stores in Tampa and NYC, especially the mom-and-pops, became the backbone of my musical life. They were my gateway to new and exciting sounds that I never would have discovered if I had only kept working and shopping in mall stores.

Places like Vinyl Fever, Alternative Records, Daddy Kool, and countless others were more than stores. They were communities, classrooms, hangouts, and hubs of discovery. They shaped generations of fans, helped fuel the Tampa Bay music scene, and still echo today in exhibitions like Live Since ’85, reminding us that the little guys can make a huge difference.