Bags and boxes scattered around Wherehouse Music tag the store as “Where the buzz begins.” But in two days the buzz will end for good.
On Saturday the Sherman Avenue CD/movie emporium will shut its doors forever. Yet no one seems terribly pained about its demise. Even the store’s employees go about their tasks cheerfully — surprising for people a few days away from unemployment.
Still, there’s something a little sad about the death of any record store, even if it is part of a chain whose modus operandi involves selling CDs for $17.99 plus tax. So as Wherehouse limped ever closer to extinction, nyou paid a visit to survey the scene. And in the spirit of this publication’s grand tradition of investigative journalism, we considered the tough questions, such as, “If someone isn’t going to buy the new Boston album at 70 percent off, will anyone ever buy the new Boston album?”
“I’m not really surprised with what’s left,” said assistant manager Ken Buchholz, who has been with Wherehouse for seven years, the last year and a half in Evanston. And what’s left are slim pickings: shelves, bundles of metal fixtures, stacks of CD bins and vibrant cardboard displays. Assorted wires hang from the ceiling, and clear plastic garbage bags are heaped in one corner. It’s enough to make you wonder exactly why the security cameras are still running. What’s left to steal?
All the fixtures have been sold. One used retail company bought $5,000 worth, and even two yellowing Mr. Coffee coffeemakers have been snapped up. “There have been some average Joe Schmoes come in who think it’d be cool to have stuff,” Buchholz noted.
One such Joe Schmoe staked his claim to several painted metal displays. The “sold to” signs on the displays call him “Sexy Erhan.”
Since liquidation began two months ago, discounts have increased every week. When nyou visited, merchandise was 70 percent off; tomorrow, that increases to 85 percent, and on Saturday, everything will be 90 percent off the original price.
“Sales really started to pick up at 30 to 50 percent off, when we still had a lot of the good titles,” noted Buchholz. “Now it’s been dying off.”
Rappers fled first, followed quickly by new releases, divas (Mariah, Whitney, Shania), DVDs, chart-topping bubblegum stars (Britney, Christina, Justin), respectable rock and pop singers and groups (an entire end-cap worth of the new Phish CD disappeared after the price fell to $5.70), and semi-respectable rock and pop singers and groups.
“People are coming in looking for the great deals,” the affable Buchholz said as “Pump Up the Jam” played in the background. “I think they realize they’re not going to find much of anything.”
Still, they come. On Monday afternoon, a steady stream of Evanstonians of all stripes and colors circulated into and around the store. Most were like Weinberg freshman Amanda Hinton, who wasn’t looking for anything in particular, and wasn’t finding much, either. “Well, it is nice to see CDs you don’t usually see,” she said generously.
Then Stella Soleil’s Dirty Little Secret caught her eye. “Hey, this isn’t so bad. I used to dance to it,” she said. But would she be buying it if it weren’t 70 percent off? “No, hell no,” she said, horrified by the possibility.
Indeed, in its waning days, Wherehouse has become the last resort of some pretty awful music — music that makes Stella Soleil look like the Beatles. The unwanted stepchildren of sound take center stage: MC Hammer’s Greatest Hits lurk in the depths of the jazz/new age section; rock dinosaurs like Dio, Foghat and Ted Nugent warm the racks; slick, sensitive members of the boy-band B-team party like it’s 1999; and one can still catch Lil’ J Thuggin’ Under the Influence (multiple times).
