Round Again Records has hunkered in the same, whitewashed brick basement at 278 Wickenden St. for 25 years. Over time, it has carved its identity into the minds of local music fans as a store devoted to excellent quality and selection. Thanks to this reputation, Round Again remains anchored on Wickenden even as other record stores have faded in and out.
Though the taste of Round Again's customers has changed over the years - '70s soul is popular again, for example, said owner Steve Kotler, whereas when the store first opened, those records couldn't be given away - it has continued to be a mainstay for East Side music lovers.
Started without esoteric ambitions, Round Again was nothing more than a source of income for Kotler, also the store's sole employee, after he lost his job as manager of The Improv, a renowned comedy club in New York City. "I needed something to make some money, pay the rent," he said. "But it turns out, I really like it."
Although he fell into the business casually, Kotler is passionately devoted to the record store, and it shows in the quality of his records. "I turn down 20 (records) for every one I buy," he says. "Condition is everything."
The record cleaner - an oversized wooden box with a turning mechanism and built-in brush - that occupies a corner of Kotler's desk is a testament to his methodical care for records and his demand for quality. More often than not, a visitor to Round Again will encounter Kotler cleaning a new acquisition. He makes a point of repeating the procedure on every record that comes into the store before putting it up for sale.
Since the store's establishment, Kotler has built a wide-ranging collection of music, composed mainly of his impressive selection of seven- and 12-inch records. Though a slim portion of Kotler's inventory is CDs and stereo equipment, he said most of his sales are records. He added that although many of his customers are college and high school students, most of his records sell to an older demographic, and that the store "has a much older demographic than the average record store."
While speaking with The Herald Tuesday, he trimmed the edges off a Nat King Cole black-and-white he is preparing to frame and add to his wall, pausing to put bebop jazz on the stereo. The store is the basement of a one-time house on Wickenden - a small, carpeted room filled with records and decorated in a profusion of music memorabilia.
Kotler understands the importance of his selection and the atmosphere of his store, and the way his store impacts customers. As he explains to one customer, "That's the magic of the store."
He said his collection of posters and photographs - which includes advertisements for the Rolling Stones fan club, posters for Bob Dylan, the Grateful Dead, Woodstock and many lesser-known local artists - was acquired gradually and unintentionally; he didn't seek any of the items for collection.
One poster, for example, which advertises a concert for Bill Monroe and his Bluegrass Boys, Kotler took off a telephone pole in Austin, Texas 30 years ago, when he attended the concert. The door to his storage room is adorned with a Johnny Cash poster, also from the 1970s, which was a gift from a friend.
Despite the collection's eclectic, impromptu origins, its breadth is formidable and hints at the range of music Kotler makes a conscious effort to maintain. (He has autographed pictures of Frank Sinatra, Tony Bennett and Duke Robillard.) His music selection, which he tries to keep varied, ranges from ABBA to Chuck Mangione.
Kotler is unassuming, immediately making disclaimers about his knowledge of music - though he tries to know something about the music he carries, he says he is not very knowledgeable about music in general. And, although he is frequently able to offer advice about which Joan Baez record might make a good introduction to her work, for example, he is also unafraid to say if he knows nothing about the Keith Jarrett albums he has in this store.
Equally unpretentious is Kotler's approach to his past. While working as a club manager in New York, he had the opportunity to meet people like Pat Benatar, Jay Leno and Rodney Dangerfield, but when pressed about these acquaintances, he changes the subject, seemingly embarrassed. "How is that relevant to my life now? It isn't," he said.
Kotler said he chose this job, as his previous ones, because it accommodates his need to spend time with his friends and keep hours that suit him. "That's what I like. ... I don't like to work very hard. ... All I've ever had are hang-around jobs," like his job at The Improv and, before that, a motorcycle shop. For Kotler, this kind of employment is not a luxury, but the only kind he would ever consider.
The only relevant aspect of his employment, Kotler said, is the flexibility necessary to spend time with friends and socialize. "Now the record store is where I hang out with my friends, instead of The Improv." He added, "I'm just a guy who comes to work every day. As with everybody with a small business, it's hard. It's a day-to-day grind."
Despite the constant challenges of owning a small business, Kotler remains passionate about his job. He hates to see records mishandled. "Some people come in here and throw them around like Frisbees," he said. "Then when I tell them to be careful they look at me like I'm a monster." He chuckles. "Well, I'm a monster."
"By the way," he adds. "They're called 'records,' not 'vinyls.' God, that annoys me."
