A Quick Stop at Target

I was at Target over the weekend to pick up a kettle bell, because, who doesn’t need a kettle bell? Given that I frequent Target only once in a blue, I had to walk the whole of the store to find the fitness section.

Clothes? Check.

Housewares? Naturally.

Electronics? Yup.

Music? Hmm, Target sells vinyl? Interesting. I wonder what they have.

What I found in the “music department”, i.e. one 10 long by 6 high display stand with records on 2 sides, plus an end cap, was about 70 LPs, a smattering of CDs and some 10” vinyl EPs. Selections ranged from new releases: Mitski, Bruno Mars, etc to predictable standbys - Taylor Swift, Sabrina Carpenter, etc.

A there was a little section devoted to K-pop where I spotted those 10” EPs and some deluxe CD editions.

Up next was a strange assortment of classic vinyl: Michael Jackson’s “Thriller”, the FRIENDS soundtrack, Nirvana “Nevermind”, and Jeff Buckley’s “Grace” were counted among the menagerie.

Huh? Was this curated? By who, and for whom? It felt random!

I mean, who buys Jeff Buckley at Target?

The kettlebell quest was yet to be fulfilled so I set my puzzlement aside and eventually found the sporting goods section. Drifting back to the check stands, I spotted a conveniently short queue and trudged in. As I hoisted my 20 pounder onto the motionless conveyor, I spotted a 12x12 square of cardboard blocking the sensor. Wrapped in shrink and trussed up in the black anti-theft cord and its accoutrements, the LP sat there.

Peering through the plastic glare, I could see Jeff Buckley staring down at the floor.

Surprised by the coincidence, my glance quickly shot to the purchaser, a gentleman maybe in his 50’s with gray hair and a beard.

“I was just looking at that record,” I said, nodding toward the counter. “Trying to figure out who comes to Target to buy Jeff Buckley. Now I know.”

He smiled. “Well, not exactly. This is for my 13-year-old daughter. She asked for it.”

That gave me pause. “She’s into Buckley?”

“Oh yeah,” he said, clearly pleased. “She came to me and said, ‘Dad, do you know who Jeff Buckley is?’”

I laughed. “Does she have a record player?”

“No,” he said. “She streams everything. She just likes having the records.”

I looked back at the album in its plastic prison. “So she keeps them sealed?”

He shook his head. “No, she opens them. Reads the liner notes. She thinks just collecting is dumb.”

So there you have it…

The display, minus one Jeff Buckley record.

A few minutes earlier, I was standing in front of that display trying to figure out who it was for. The mix didn’t make sense: new releases, catalog staples, a few odd outliers. It felt random.

It wasn’t.

It was for a 13-year-old who streams everything, doesn’t own a turntable, and still wants the record - wants to open it, read it, spend time with it. Not as a collectible, but as something to engage with.

Jeff Buckley didn’t end up there by accident. And neither did her dad.