"Late night record shop" - A Tribute to Sam Sniderman

Sam Sniderman, CM (1920-2012)

This week, Sam "The Record Man" Sniderman died at the age of ninety-two. A good span, even by Hobbit standards.

When I was a kid I met Sam a few times; he lived in my Granny's building. I remember shaking his hand at the age of eleven. I introduced myself politely, the way Granny taught. Eye contact. State name. Firm handshake. Be confident. Be nice. Be natural. 

Sam smiled, remarking to Granny that I was a well-mannered boy, then walked down the hall to go about his day. I went about mine, glowing from my recent brush with celebrity, yes, but disappointed in myself for not telling Sam how much I enjoyed his store. If I said the magic words maybe, just maybe, I'd get a discount.

It was a dark day in Toronto when Sam's closed, five years ago. A sign of the times. A victim of the digital age. I'm of a vintage that I can recall afternoons and evenings spent exploring the store's three floors. It was always time (and money) well spent.

The plain truth is that shopping for music and movies in a physical place is superior to navigating browsers and applications for electronic media. 

Do you remember how much fun you had renting movies?

Music is deeply personal, but it's also inherently communal. With the demise of record shops, music communities have moved to online forums, like this one. It's convenient, but qualitatively different. 

Faster. Easier. Cheaper. 

There are no smells, few sounds, and no dusty corners. Just the tap of keys and hum of hard drives.

Music communities, the kind where punk rockers awkwardly bump elbows with jazz cats, have been gutted. 

This week, in memory of Sam, I'm featuring songs from two albums that I purchased at his record shop. First, the opening track to Herbie Hancock's 1973 album, Head Hunters, Chameleon. Second, the seventh track from the Jacques Loussier Trio's 2002 recording of Handel's Water Music & Royal Fireworks, Water Music Suite No. 3, Alla Danza.

Even though times have changed, the music, thankfully, remains the same. For all you did for Canadian artists, music fans, and this city-- thank you, Sam.

I guess it's a little too late to ask for that discount now.

Fuck it. 

Hocus pocus alimagocus...

The iconic Sam's sign, before it was ripped down to make way for

Starbucks, condos, and other empty places.