Tower Records on Sunset Blvd. Just that phase alone and your mind can wander in a million directions. The first things I think of are 80s hair bands, the energy of a live show in that parking lot, and the millions of personal stories that happened in and around this location. People made plans to go here. Like real plans. Specifically, Tower Records was the epicenter of sonic anything and everything. From pop to rock to classical, and sound effects to spoken word.
Elton John was filmed in Tower Records on Sunset with pages and pages of lists of music he was looking for. Elton John. And he shopped right next to a guy with $5 to his name - both music lovers. This was that place. And it got to be this magical way because the founder, Russ Solomon, was, well, just a cool guy. There is a very well made documentary by Colin Hanks called ‘All Things Must Pass’ and I can’t recommend it more.
Solomon curated each Tower Records with managers and teams that brought in hand picked music and artists. In turn, each location created unique communities in those areas. A place to belong. A place to discover, or even be discovered. Being discovered and Tower Records on Sunset Blvd went hand in hand. When Solomon picked this Hollywood location in the heart of the music industry, he put Tower Records in a league all its own. Tower Records itself became famous.
If you were a musician, you had a dream of seeing your album in this store. To be on a Tower Records billboard or ad - you made it. Before digital and streaming services, a love of music required real investment. Buying music, whether it was an LP, cassette tape or CD meant storing a collection, buying specific gear to play it and speakers for sound. I mean, you really had to commit.
Now, you can spend only $20 a month and have unlimited access to the entire world of music and sound - on your phone. It’s the future, man. But you're alone. You're in the comfort of your own space. You're being guided by an algorithm. Not the guy you met at the record shop that became your best friend. Or the girl that liked the same music as you and talked you into going to a party that changed your whole life. You did not sit in a listening booth and hear a random song that inspired you to write your own music. There is something to that slower, more real-life discovery that is just gone now.
Don’t get me wrong, I love not having to devote an entire wall to a collection of plastic - I do have a nice small record collection. And to have a song pop in your head and bam - you're playing it. That is really cool. But to walk the same aisles as a rockstar looking for their next inspiration, or to go to a show or signing at your local record shop, or to talk about ‘that one time’ with a stranger and get that rush of fun and connection. You don’t get that from a streaming platform.
On a personal note, my ex husband was a musician. We produced together for years. He signed his first record deal with Chris Blackwell right as digital started to make its move. I had experienced the digital effect myself, in photography. As a professional color printer in the late 1990s, we all thought nothing could touch film photography. This digital thing was cool and all, but quality - that was film. Creatively, my ex and I went from big studio recording sessions to home studios. And I went from printing for the biggest photographers in the world in a blacked out darkroom (always blaring Beastie Boys) to printing my own work at the desk next to my kitchen. The experiences artists had with each other in real-life moments changed. Was lost. Everyone went to their own rooms, so to speak. As time goes by without places like Tower Records for the next generation to both experience and appreciate… the easier it is to undervalue and teardown buildings and brands that once meant the world to people.
Tower Records closed because of the deer in headlights response to the changes that were happening in the music industry. No one really understood what to do. The mindset of ‘this is how it’s done’ in the age of Napster meant a losing game for the once leader of its industry. Then came the restructuring, and ultimately, the end. The magic of Tower Records was dismissed and a bottomline agenda led the once thriving business to bankruptcy and heartbreaking closures. We’ve come a long way since the fear of the digital disconnect first gripped creativity, or have we?
The iconic location at 8801 Sunset Blvd closed in 2006. Ten years before I started photographing the city. I got very lucky in 2017 when the street side of the building was once again wrapped in the name Tower Records. Of course, it had to be a part of the Los Angeles series. In 2023, after a complete rebuild of the property, a super popular skate shop opened. Lines formed, again. And things moved on.
Amazingly, Tower Records does carry on - in Japan! There are over 85 locations there. Everything set up and running like it did in its prime in America. Will this be the wave of the future? Other places will recognize the uniqueness that was right in front of our eyes, tangible and real… and remake it because we let our magic go for the high of fast cash and the ease of destruction for the sake of new soulless structures?
Tower Records is a prime example of why I would drag myself out of bed and drive the city photographing as much as I could. You think things will always be there. But things change.
Keep your eyes open to what is right there. And if nothing else, take a photo. It might be all we have left.
Great read! Sad though. Funny thing is people are getting back into buying records for their music again, full circle? Perhaps. It’s now sort of a quaint “cool” thing to own one - sort of a #IYKYK thing. In Atlanta, there are probably only like maybe 2 record store places. I even asked for a record player and a few of my fav artists as a birthday gift last month.