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| Singer Rebecca
Wave and producer Steve Powell run 7 South, Santa
Barbara's only Internet record store. |
BY D.J. PALLADINO
A few weeks ago, with its typical cover
mixture of opportune hyperbole and disingenuousness, Time
magazine loudly announced the death of the mall, whose profits
were soon to be siphoned into the virtual cash register of
the World Wide Web. It posited a planet where the mouse and
the screen would triumph over issues of product display and
foot traffic, a world free from demon overhead, thriving on
24-hour, free, universal user visitations. (Never mind that
less than 1 percent of all humanity has access to the Internet.)
Rebecca Wave
does not agree with Time. "We're not going to turn into the
baby butthead people on Star Trek," asserted Wave, cautious
of the evolutionary issues. As one third (along with Steve
Powell and Bruce Capps) of the proprietary interest in Seven  South
Records* (you can reach it at sevensouth.com/recordshop),
an Internet business-place featuring only Santa Barbara-area
independent CDs, Wave's opinions reflect a combination of
self-interest, experience, and a lively sense of humor. "We
are still physical beings, we still get pleasure from moving
through a mall." Partner, Steve Powell, who is also the "webmaster"
who put together the site, echoed the sentiment clearly, even
adding a turn to the screw. "I frankly don't think that the
Internet, its carriers, or even the computers we use are ready
for prime time. My own computer has problems all the time."
Nonetheless, both Wave and Powell, clearly children of the
1960s, who run their supercool recordshop from a large earth-toned
house very near La Cumbre Plaza ("This could be Big Brown,
where it all started," joked Wave) have every reason to be
proud of their electronic baby. "At the very least, we're
a great little reference place for musicians and other folk
interested in the Santa Barbara music scene," said Powell
proudly.
It is that, and so much more. My own skepticism,
exacerbated by my technologically challenged mental state,
was bred from fond memories of real record stores. You stood
transfixed by the overwhelming variety and depth of selections
while seductive speakers--it always sounds best in the store--played
tracks you suddenly had to own. Older buyers will recall the
incense and bong
supplies. Powell pointed out at least two advantages, however.
"You can idle as long as you want in an electronic store,
and you can shop without wearing any clothes."
Despite their allegedly balky home computer
woes, Powell and Wave, husband and wife, with two teen daughters,
were happy to let me, fully clothed, play in their website,
as they invited me into their homey office. Even I had little
trouble negotiating the alleyways of the site and discovering
the hidden treasures therein. First, let's measure the virtual
store's dimensions. Seven South--it's motto is "the Shop Heard
Round the World"--currently stocks 46 artists
with 73 albums. You can listen to
215 samples from these albums,
lasting 30-50 seconds.
I began by calling up music by friends
like Josef Woodard ("He was an early supporter of the site,
and he brought along others," said Powell gratefully. "After
him, came the Big Bang of growth at the site.") and others
like Ellen Turner. But I was
soon tempted  astray
by the remarkable variety--see the 11-best box--and wandered
about checking brief recordings by the Santa
Barbara Symphony and a loveably named, unknown-to-me band
called Speed Racer. The record
shop offers Blues, children's
music, film and stage tracks,
folk, jazz,
New Age, pop,
R&B, and rock
with band names like 40OZ, Foggy
Dew, Cory Sipper, Tearaways,
Acousticats, JT
& the Zydeco Zippers, ANTI-M,
flapping, Flapping, This
Ascension, and The Untouchables.
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For those who recall the joys of
in-store passive listening, Seven South offers a Record
Shop Radio. Just click
on the spot and, while you surf the 142 pages, you can be
entertained by three and a half hours of sample tracks.
And even if the cover art isn't 12 square inches it's clear
and pretty for each CD on a color monitor. Mall death, where
is thy sting?
CD SITE-INGS: So far,
Powell and Wave haven't abandoned their day jobs. Powell
who has lived in the area since 1974 has impressive counterculture
media credentials. He is much better known as the owner
of Seven South Recording Studios, one of the hosts of little
studios around town, and calls it "the best damned hole
in the wall in town." He met Wave when she, who has lived
here since 1960 first recorded her second CD in his hole
in the wall. Wave's musical ventures range from children's
recordings to
therapeutic work among the "frail elderly" although Powell
has a better genre handle for her. "It's progressive folk
with a jazz flavor," he explained confidently. "Thank you.
You're hired," laughed Wave.
(Real old-timers remember Wave's brother, Jeremy Kramer
as the student body prez at Santa Barbara High class of
'70 who posed nude a la John and Yoke for his yearbook.
His career as a Bay Area comedian, lauded by the likes of
pal Robin Williams has brought him enticingly close to fame,
but, to his fans great regret, mine included, the breakout
film role or offbeat sitcom has yet to arrive.)
The online record store venture began
as a database, providing listings of S.B. groups and their
gigdates, updated by the bands themselves on a regular basis.
The record shop still offers this incredibly useful feature
for those who are about to party. It was an easy step, however,
to begin offering the CDs of their friends and faves to
an invisible clientele. The growth was slow, then steady,
and now near explosive--they had 560 new visitors last week--with
nearly every independent CD being offered.
"When a band signs, we set them free,
like a favorite pet. When they get a big record deal, they
belong to the world," explained Powell. Their greatest regret,
however, is a dearth of Spanish-language music. "We haven't
got any yet, although we would really like to. There seems
to be an invisible barrier between us and Latino music,"
said Wave ruefully. (Let the Martinet Family, and the Estrada
Brothers, and others take heed.)
This is how it works: If Seven South
takes on your CD they list it with sound samples and artwork
on its own page on the website at a reasonably priced average
of about $14. (They take 40 percent.) When an order comes
in it is either as a check or in credit card numbers, which
can be cleared immtdiatdy. This is where their third, largely
silent, partner, Bruce Capps comes in. Capps, who plays
in The Rave and works in Powell's** recording studio takes
and fills all credit card orders within 24 hours like a
big-time distributor. He also manages the books and tremendous
inventory.
What's most surprising about the clientele
is its foreign nature. Against all expectations, most of
the traffic comes from far-away people who are interested
in the S.B. scene. "I don't know if I should say this,"
explained Powell cautiously, "but [interest in our town's
music] is like a black hole in the middle with light all
around it." The farther away, ironically, the more avid
the interest. Powell would very much like to see that change,
regardless of the consequences to his shop. "I would be
happy if people came here to the website--I know it sounds
self-defeating--even if they end up buying the records at
the Wherehouse. So long as they came here and considered
this a place to go to find out what's happening in music
in Santa Barbara." Wave agreed and said she is happy at
least with the current state of affairs with their magical
product. "There really is music bubbling up here all the
time. People should be aware of this. Now, we're getting
a new record about every two weeks. And that's great. When
a new CD comes in, it's like a present. It's like candy."
Shuffle on over there, Net fools, and get you some. Long
live the hyperspace mall.
| CORRECTIONS: |
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*
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The studio is named Seven South
Recording. There is no Seven South Records. |
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**
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Bruce Capps is Steve Powell's
full partner in the recording studio. |
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