(In Times Square on Broadway @ 49th)
RIP, Colony Music (aka Colony Records, aka The Colony, etc.) The store is giving up its corner in Times Square for an internet-only existence. Times Square is the poorer for it.
When I hauled myself over there after physical therapy on Wednesday evening for one last visit, I realized it had been a long time since I’ve visited — making music isn’t a part of my life the way it used to be. It was a trip down memory lane to be there, though. Everything from fake books to violin études that I’ve owned (they’re probably all still in boxes somewhere here) were piled in dusty bins along with all kinds of printed music, including cheesy organ arrangements of sappy mid-century songs, marches popular in 1910, entire books of guitar music from bands I mostly really can’t stand, and much, much more. Though I don’t use it any more, there’s comfort for me in sheet music, though I realize that makes me a bit of a dinosaur (how many people even know how to read music these days?), especially when we’re talking not just about notes on staves, but about notes on staves on paper. I’d be willing to bet that the majority of what was on offer in the store is available for free on the interwebs these days.
The shop did offer some other things including music-related memorabilia, musicals on DVD, karaoke CDs, and more, but the sheet music always seemed the heart of the operation.
Or really, it was the neon. The neon COLONY letters outside were still glowing strongly on Wednesday when I visited — still animated to spell the store’s name out one at a time, then blink, then go dark, then start over. Which letter is your favorite?
Alas, the jumping girl (“I found it at the Colony!”) who held aloft the prize vinyl she had unearthed in the store’s basement record section, was already missing when I was there. Just a gap in the wall where she used to be. I wonder where she ended up? I hope she found a good home.
The employees were in a somber mood, and didn’t seem to welcome the many well-wishers who offered their condolences. I can’t blame them — finding a job these days is harder than finding a piece of sheet music in a disorganized bin. So I purchased my copy of 42nd Street without comment and walked outside to take one last look at my favorite corner in Times Square. I could feel I was about to start crying — silly, I know, for just some glowing glass tubes and an anachronistic shop on a valuable piece of real estate, but there it was — so I turned away and descended into the subway with my photos and my memories. If there’s no room for Colony in today’s New York City, I can’t help wondering how much longer there will be room for the rest of us dinosaurs.
There’s a documentary about Colony in the works. You can support it here:
Plenty of people have been writing about the end of the Colony shop recently. Here are a few: