Gigwise Words: The Sad Death Of FOPP

We’re sure all music/book/DVD lovers around the country were saddened, dismayed, even borderline tearful over the closure of FOPP.  For a lovely time, FOPP has provided us with a safe haven, a dichotomy few music shops managed to pull off in being both approachable and knowledgeable.  It lacked the conglomerate heartlessness of HMV or Virgin but retained some of the authentic indie shop vibes without the condescending glares when you search through the classic rock racks looking for the Best of Journey (which rocks!).  So the question to ask is; why is it gone if we loved it so?

Unlike losing girlfriends or boyfriends, losing a shop you love shouldn’t ever happen.  You can be a jerk to your partner, you can cheat or lie or steal or kill a pet and they will leave you.  But in this relationship, one side feeds the other.  The public love for FOPP allowed it to expand and exist, becoming the semi-muso’s chain of choice.  Its greatest strength was in combining all that is good about CD buying in modern life.  Old CDs became permanently cheap, meaning replacing vinyl became easy and discovering where your favourite band came from is no longer a case of tracking down reissues of thirty year old punk records and paying out fifteen quid a time.

It included the twin pleasures of books and DVDs in which its selection, in hefty quantity too and I certainly would never have discovered the brain-melting wonders of Haruki Murakami or crushing realism of Richard Yates.  Not only that, but you only had to pay £3. Not to mention the racks of great films for a fiver. But why dwell now you see. Nothing will match it again. Perhaps HMV and Virgin will be able to separate the failure of FOPP from its many wonders.  If they can only take in a small portion of what FOPP teaches then that would make for finer shopping experiences.

I have great memories of first walking through the doors of FOPP in Covent Garden during the halcyon days of The Strokes and the CBGB revival.  Slipping a £20 note on the counter and walked out with ‘Velvet Underground & Nico’, ‘White Light/White Heat’, ‘Marquee Moon’ and ‘Talking Heads ’77’.  Such an absolute treasure trove of incredible music should not cost you a cab fare but that was its beauty.  Plus, no change.  It seems churlish to complain that shops want you to keep your pennies but we all know those pennies just end up in a jar or in the guitar case of a homeless gent.  I don’t need to carrying shrapnel around in my pockets, I’d much rather hand over paper and get back nowt.