Box 8.1: Detroit – a story

High up in the Austrian Tyroll, a young journalist, just returned from six weeks in Detroit, read to a small group of artists and academics some of the personal stories she had picked up as she wandered around the half empty, somewhat scary neighbourhoods of Detroit, which declared bankruptcy in 2013. One story struck home.

A young, white jazz music lover and record collector, Brad, opened a shop, ‘People's Records’, in 2003 selling old vinyl records, mainly 45s. His shop was in an insecure shopfront in a half-abandoned neighbourhood. Brad searched boarded up, abandoned houses, their attics, garages and basements, for old records. “Old records are the last thing people want to take with them when they move – they’re heavy.” These discarded records were often of famous but long forgotten Motown greats. Now that vinyl records have become the pure fashion sound in music, particularly jazz, they are worth something. Brad gets specialist collectors from Europe and even Japan coming in search of his vinyls. Occasionally, they sell for $100s – often for $35. He has about 11,000 records in his store, many in crammed, barely sorted boxes.

Brad has built lots of friendships with local teenagers who help by searching abandoned properties and bringing old 45s into Brad's shop for a couple of dollars. He enjoys their company, knows there are far too few opportunities, and teaches them about their ‘damn cool’ grandparents and their music. He encourages them to find music they like for themselves.

One young lad, who is lame and with a bad eye, finds two old gospel records among the thousands Brad holds. He is hoping to invent a new kind of Motown music, ‘Gospel hip hop’, with help from his brother's computer. Brad is enthusiastic.