“Selling CDs is a boring experience but LPs are a different story. And it turns out, according to Fred, that sitting behind a desk is not so bad. He literally wrote the book on collecting Blue Note records to help fellow enthusiasts identify original pressings. Today, Fred is the one who does most of the teaching, and by all accounts he is an expert in identifying and appraising jazz memorabilia. We opened on April 1st 1983, moved to the West 26th location in 1992, and, well, we are still here today.”Īs the years went by, Fred broadened his musical interests, schmoozed with fellow collectors, and listened carefully to his customers. And on this tree were two crooning morning doves. “But at the back there was this window and you could see this tree. The shop was incredibly narrow, like a railroad flat, and you could barely turn around with all the record racks in there.” Fred paused a moment and shook his head before picking up the story once more. But Bobbie said we should at least take a look. The idea of sitting at a desk waiting on people - that did not sound like me. “In my previous job, I was traveling to conferences and centers across the United States. “I really didn’t think it was a good idea,” he recalled. The owner was looking for a new person to take over the business and offered the opportunity to Fred. Jolly Roger was a jazz record store on Columbus Avenue that Fred often frequented. That’s when I got the call from Jolly Roger.” I figured I could live for a year off of my savings, and it helped that Bobbie was making good money as a textile designer at the time. “This was 1969 through 1982, and after eleven years I was burned out. After college, he took a job with Odyssey House in New York as a drug rehabilitation counselor. Still, Fred never expected that jazz would become his life’s passion. It wasn’t until my aunt took me to the Boston Jazz Festival that I was exposed to music that really blew me away.” “We did have a piano but my sister was always the pianist. “My mother had a lovely voice, she sang in a chorus in Pittsburgh and there were records of show-tunes around the house,” he reminisced. While growing up in Boston (Dorchester, West Roxbury, then Jamaica Plain), music was a peripheral part of Fred’s life. During my visit, Fred’s wife, Bobbie, helped customers navigate the CDs,DVDs, posters, books, and records while he led me to a quiet corner for our “heart to heart.” But Fred Cohen’s collection of music and memorabilia has a cult of clientele who come from around the world to see it with their own eyes. Nestled up on the eighth floor and without any sign to indicate its existence to passersby on the street, the Jazz Record Shop is certainly not easy to find.
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