thisisthelonelyhouse

Army Coach, at a Night of Sweet Relief, Oct. 2011 - Photo: Lydia Pennington

I’ve been working towards this post in my head for a while now.  It finally clicked for me tonight, though, what it was I actually wanted to say.

We’ve been hosting shows at Galaxy CDs since the beginning of last summer.  What was initially me helping a band out that I happened to like turned in to me setting up shows in an attempt to bring in new customers and regain the support and loyalty of some of Galaxy’s older and oldest… and help out bands that I happened to like.  These were shows, though loosely defined, but were treated like in-store events – they were free and were meant to be mutually beneficial.  The bands got exposure and made new friends and fans, Galaxy got some extra foot traffic and a few more customers.  Part of that worked.  If you’ve followed the story at all, though, you know the part that didn’t work was Galaxy gaining, and maintaining, enough business to survive.  At the end of October, it stopped being Galaxy CDs the record store, turning in to Galaxy CDs the venue.  No name change, no triumphant reopening.  A simple transition.

We’ve had a rough start.  We’re in a town that’s a running joke to most in the area.  We’re in a location that doesn’t make sense to a lot of people.  When bands first walk in, you can see the hesitance, and maybe, just a little bit of panic.  But those bands, after brief conversations or interactions with us, get it.  They understand, on an incredibly fundamental level, what it is we’re trying to accomplish.  And damn near every one of them play their heart and soul through their instruments, through the words they sing or scream.  Some to 5 or 6 people, some to just the other bands, some to 50, 60, or 100 people.  Almost unanimously, as well, bands have complimented the sound, the quality and clarity.  Every show has been completely different, and almost every band has been uniformly impressive, if not outright stunning. Continue reading