Surplus ““ the term brings to mind old, unwanted goods, or the extra nobody really needs.
But when it comes to vinyl records, surplus takes on a whole new meaning. Considering that used records are the bulk of the market, with many items out of print, the prospective record owner had better hope that some surplus is available.
And that’s where Record Surplus, self-styled “the last record store,” comes in. Located on West Pico Boulevard just west of the 405 Freeway, Record Surplus offers a comprehensive (and surprising, in the age of downloads) selection of records spanning all genres and labels, from the mainstream to the independent.
Approaching the store from the outside, the prospective customer is greeted with the colorful painting on the front wall that climbs from the ground to roof as it depicts a man sorting through a stack of vinyls, throwing them one at a time on the awaiting phonograph. The mural is no lie ““ in stark contrast to the sterile CD retailers that have slowly faded over the last few years, on any given day the record players dispersed throughout the store will be paired with customers trying any record of their choosing on for size.
The vinyl sold isn’t the only vintage aspect of the experience. Maybe the nature of the records themselves preserves the all but forgotten personal aspects of buying music, but regardless Record Surplus maintains the archetype of the shop staffed by music junkies.
Musical queries result in conversations rather than a computerized search of the inventory, and staffers double as collectors on their own time. While the kids at other music stores picked up the gig for some after-school spending money, for Record Surplus staffers such as Manager Neil Cantor, the records were the first motivation.
“I got really into collecting records in my early 20s,” Cantor said. “I liked vintage and got a bunch of surf music and blues records. I got passionate, and it kind of grew into my work. I get to do things with my own quirks.”
Cantor’s collecting took off in the store, but even if customers don’t develop the passion he did, Cantor enjoys the moments when people discover something new.
“The best for me is seeing people get excited. There’s so much music to discover that is only available on records. A lot of it just can’t be found on any other format,” Cantor said.
Add to the experience a selection of collectible vinyls, along with the second floor set to woo any budget-strapped college student ““ 99 cent records ““ and whether or not Record Surplus is truly the last, it’s as far as anyone needs to look.
But while there are parallels between Record Surplus and the idealized shop in the vein of “High Fidelity,” there is one important difference. There’s no need to fear the wicked tongue of some elitist rock snob a la Jack Black. As Cantor says, the goal is to provide a more accepting environment.
“If you ask us where the Barry Manilow is, we’re not going to laugh,” Cantor said. “We’ll show you the section.”