The corpse of Tower Records has been jump-started back to life and its now trying to creep out of its tomb.
Recently, while gawking at a picture of probably something stupid on Instagram, a sponsored ad snapped my eyes to attention. I had to look twice to make sure I wasn’t tripping face, but it was true– low and behold, a sponsored ad for Tower Records glanced up at me through heavy lids and thick, darkened lashes. She gave me a slow, yet wicked smile and giggled a lusty, yet demur sort of laugh.
She definitely looked like this because yum.
“Hey Loryn,” the Tower Records ad mused, waving her long, perfectly painted red fingernails at me.
I looked around twice before turning my attention back to the cracked iPhone 6 screen in my hands.
“Me?” I whispered into the darkness of my room, where I was spending too much time on the internet watching Mukbang videos and not enough time sleeping.
The Tower Records ad winked and nodded at me, a slow and calculated bow of her head.
“Bin dive with me.” she said.
“But…I thought you were dead,” I said, sitting up just enough for my Garfield sheets to fall from my shoulders. “Have I time traveled? Is this a dream?”
Her flashing eyes widened, and her energy became more intense. “Bin. Dive. With. ME!” Tower Records said, the final word booming from her essence like a slice of lightning through my nightmares.
I screamed and pulled the blankets over my head.
I wonder whatever happened to those Garfield sheets, anyway.
But in all seriousness– what does Tower Records want from us?
If you go onto their official website, there’s literally nothing there except for some vinyl tote bag they’re trying to sell. Like really guys, hire a designer and bank off the nostalgia of your name at least. Make some shirts, a shitty mascot and try to Joe Camel that crap or something. Next up, their social media presence as of this writing is very, very strange. We have the Instagram account, which posted its first Bin Diving demand in September 2018. It posts Stock Photos of what seems to be people listening to music, or something, but it’s lost, vague, and disjointed. Even with a little over 4,000 followers on said Insta, they’re just not finding a presence. I’ve seen a couple people type demanding answers such as “Are you back?” which of course, aren’t answered by that reanimated, robot Tower Records corpse they have at the wheel.
In fact, by clicking on the link in their bio, it looks like Tower Records is just trying to redirect us to some Spotify playlist. Which like, bruh. We can do that ourselves.
Tower Record’s Twitter account is an even sadder place. It has been around for a little longer than the Bin Diving Instagram account. It looks like its wires were soldered back together in 2016. But alas, this tweet was made, and you can see how none of the fucks were given. The account has about 100 followers and this announcement of resurrection was greeted by silence.
Honestly, Tower Records was a fun store to hang out in. But the truth of the matter is, physical media was becoming harder and harder to sustain. Plus, as we know from the Death of Borders books, there’s very little fiscal return. Meaning, retailer pay nearly retail price for their stock and only make a few dollars back on it. And very likely, that went right into paying employees or covering those nasty Ticketmaster fees or whatever the hell went on back there.
Plus, with the whole Napster/Limewire/Morpheus/Bit Torrent insanity before iTunes and other services popped up that made music profitable again, it seems like Tower Records was an impossible business model to sustain. But they’re back on social media. And they want something from our lives. So when that “Riding the Nostalgia Wave” Tower Records Pop-Up shop lands in some crappy LA neighborhood with zero parking and too many young and trendy kids lurking around pretending they love 8-Tracks and Cassette tapes…
You better believe my sleaze ass will be elbow deep in that old girl’s bin.
Dive with Loryn on Twitter.