What with all the posters, vinyl records and ephemera spread about hiphopsite.com’s Maryland Parkway store, it’s hard to see any writing on the wall. Easier to recognize is the proverbial kind, clearly evident in the scant traffic on a recent midday at the iconic 7-year-old enterprise directly across from UNLV.
In their upstairs office, co-owners Warren Peace and Mike Pizzo talk with the pragmatism of businessmen resigned to the fact that their company is failing—expenses outpacing revenues, flagging customer base—and that closing shop is the prudent move. Sure, they’ll miss the place as much as their customers, but nostalgia doesn’t pay the bills.
“KRS-One, Pete Rock, DJ Premier, ?uestlove, [Talib] Kweli, MF Doom, Redman, Pharrell [Williams], Mobb Deep ... all of them came through here,” Pizzo says. “We made history here.”
Missing from his voice is the hurt one might expect from folding a labor of love, one borne of a decade-plus friendship and one that made history in other significant ways: first local hip-hop business with a global profile; designers of Eminem’s first website; ombudsman to tens of thousands of patrons seeking old-school vinyl, new-school CDs, one-of-a-kind T-shirts and classic posters.
It was a place where you could talk about the Beatnuts, Ras Kass or Thirstin Howl III and not draw blank stares. Or just drink in the place’s authentic feel: images of venerable artists (KRS-One and Eric B and Rakim among them) staring at you from all over the store. You half-expect Fab Five Freddy to ring up your purchase.
Knowing this day was coming makes saying goodbye a bit easier. “With the record industry declining, it just made sense for us to go completely digital,” Peace says. “We’ll still be the same old hiphopsite.com, just without a physical store.”
The retail hiphopsite.com store grew from the Internet site, which debuted in 1996. On hiphopsite.com, the duo posted the latest in industry news—Peace using his record-label contacts, Pizzo trolling the Internet for tidbits. Pizzo scored new cuts from upcoming albums by trading tapes over the ’net. Soon they began luring visitors and filling orders from around the country. Headquarters was a bedroom in Pizzo’s parents’ house. Offices later moved to the garage and then a warehouse before the Maryland Parkway store opened in 2000.
“We had the first news and information website for hip-hop,” Pizzo says. “The store was an outgrowth. People wouldn’t come here for the latest Nelly CD. They’d come for the latest from Dilated Peoples.”
The first few years, inventory flew off the shelves; hyped albums by the thousands each week. Business began slowing in 2003-04. Sales declined, in part because of gimmicks (ringtones) and technology—iPods and MP3s and the Serato. In a business-killing move, Peace and Pizzo embraced change. Peace mastered Serato technology, which computerizes crates of music DJs used to haul to clubs (he and Pizzo spin locally). “You have to change with the times,” Peace says. “No one’s making radiators for Model Ts anymore.”
Going digital will have a freeing effect—no worrying about stocking product or making rent. The store is on a month-to-month lease, with plans to close in mid-July. And yes, Pizzo says, there will be a blowout sale. Get there soon, though. Asked one serious-sounding friend of the co-owners: “How much for everything in here?”