My buddy, Carew Rowell is an electronic wizard. He’s able to hook up your TV, your computer, your iPad, your iPhone, etc. etc. One day while trying to help me figure out yet AGAIN what my Apple ID and password were so I could buy a song on iTunes, Carew told me about Spotify. If you don’t know, it’s a great music app where you can listen to literally thousands of songs for one low monthly fee. I signed up and have enjoyed listening to all kinds of music in my car. As I was cruising around the island the other day, listening to the Classic 70s Rock station on Spotify, I suddenly remembered the name Columbia House. Does anybody over the age of 50 remember those advertisements touting “Any Ten 8-Track Tapes for $1.97!” in the Sunday paper?
When I bought my first car, it had an 8-track player. The guy I bought the car from forgot to take out the 8-track tape that was in the player when he sold me the car. Since I didn’t have any money for new tunes after buying the car, I ended up listening to the “Grease” soundtrack for three months. I spied the Columbia House ad one Sunday and filled out the return card along with a check for $1.97. A week later a box arrived at my house and out came ten 8-track tapes: Boz Scaggs, Kansas, Earth Wind & Fire, Boston, and even Van Halen, to name a handful. No more “Greased Lighting!”
Columbia House once set the bar for the music club subscription business model through its famous deal: piles of eight-tracks, and, later, cassettes and CDs all for a penny! For generations of people, Columbia House was a huge rite of passage: your first foray into maybe wrecking your credit rating, or at least running afoul of an authority beyond your hometown. You had a short-term contract, say about two years, during which you had to buy a number of titles at regular price. Those “regular” prices were usually about double what the eight-track would cost in the local music store. Of course, you didn’t see that in the small print when you signed up!
By the time my contract was up, I think I was paying close to $20 for a cassette! It was my first lesson in high finance. But at least I didn’t have to listen to Sandy and Danny singing “Summer Lovin’” for the 4,000th time! You’re humming “Summer Lovin” now, aren’t you? Admit it!
