When I read the rave review of Forever Young Records in Grand Prairie, Texas (just outside Dallas) I knew I had to go. The hype said this was a massive warehouse of glorious vinyl, so I dropped my other plans (sorry, OKC) and pushed right on through to Grand Prairie, Texas with all the urgency of a lonely coal miner on his annual trip to the cathouse.

When I walked through the doors, I was stunned. I’d never seen anything of this size filled with vinyl, barring the Austin Record Convention. Behold:

This image in no way conveys the size of the place. Imagine a small airplane hangar and you have the right perspective.
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Forever Young Records has a floor-to-ceiling rack of cassettes of every description. I don’t know why anybody is still BUYING cassettes, but here they are, and a LOT of them. If you want born-again christian new wave on cassette tape, Forever Young is your store.

Yes, this store has the volume and the more obscure titles you’ve been lusting after. Though they do fail my obscurity test–I could find no Breaking Glass soundtrack, no Goblin or Morricone soundtracks from films like Revolver or his giallo period stuff. Not that the lack of those makes for a crappy store, but I do love the obscure finds.

The size and selection is the silver lining, but there is a dark cloud. Forever Young record prices for USED vinyl start at about 15 dollars. There’s absolutely no mercy for the record buyer here–commerce trumps all, and I just can’t recommend this store to the average buyer, it’s a store for collectors who have such a completist streak that they will pay any price to fill those holes. For example, the born again christian rock and roll section, with its endless supply of bad Castro-street ‘staches and flowing mullets? all $15 and many with labels like “Out of Print” seemingly to justify requiring you to part with $15 for a copy of the uber Jesus-weepy The Champion but the screamingly gay (yet somehow rightie fundamentalist) Carman.

Trust me, you REALLY NEED to hear The Champion for maximum amusement value–it’s a complete hoot–80s fundies had their very own mini-Liberace going on here, but with more sexual conflict. Oh, those homoerotic album covers! Carman with his shiny teeth and flowing chest hair–who could possibly say no to this guy as he prays for you with one hand and slips his phone number into your back pocket with the other one? Carman IS sex! Even as I write this, I am contemplating switching to the other team in hopes of catching his holier-than-thou/holy-jesus-spank-me attentions.

But for fifteen bucks a pop? Oh, HELL NO. I will remain on the hetero side of the highway at these prices. Sorry Carman. Maybe you can have a word with these maniacs and convince them to drop the prices a wee bit?

Then there’s the OTHER THING about this shop that rubbed me the wrong way:

You can’t read the lettering on the price tag for this CD copy of Remote Control by The Tubes, but it is a hand-lettered “COUNTERFEIT”. So now you know you’re holding a bogus release of Remote Control, how much would you expect to pay? Try $14.99, sport.

Yeah, thanks but no thanks. This place has fabulous potential, but the disappointing prices outweigh the incredible selection in my mind–I just don’t feel like getting gouged, especially when I show up in Austin the very next day and pay half or less for some of the same titles I find on display here.

I am sure somebody will make noises about these being pristine collector editions, yada, yada. But if you are interested in buying vinyl records you’ll never play, go ahead and purchase here…me, I want to PLAY these records, thanks. Different strokes for different shops, I guess. Let’s give this one a “C” and leave it there. Completists, come here and fill your collections out. Others, keep driving straight through to Austin and get the good deals.