A Love Song for Aron's

Darwinian days for indie L.A. record stores � but maybe that�s okay

Comments (0) By Tanveer Badal Wednesday, Jan 25 2006

So long, farewell, and how much for that Boston picture disc? Aron�s � at Highland and Santa Monica � in its last days. Photos by Wild Don Lewis

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To Amoeba’s Pearson, the loss of Aron’s isn’t exactly a victory. “We see us as a brotherhood. We’re united against the bigger stores that can undercut us. What worries me is when you throw in the towel. Or take one thing or a few things and say that’s it. I feel that’s what the industry has done.”

There aren’t too many things you can depend on in life — record and book stores close, restaurants and bars fold, countries split, people you love disappear. Since pulling up roots and moving to Brooklyn a few years ago, I’ve come to rely upon the idea that, whenever I visit family and friends at home, Aron’s will be there. One of the things I look forward to most — and depend on — is taking that familiar drive west on Beverly, hooking a right on Highland, and watching for the approach of that famous building just past Santa Monica. As I drive, all my instincts return to form: It’s as if I’m heading into work for another Saturday 4 p.m.-midnight shift, sharing the counter with Jaime, Chris, Brooke and Jeremy. Next time I visit, I know that building will have become something else — perhaps a Barnes & Noble or another doughnut shop.