Jacuzzi Takes Us to LA's Most Obscure Synth Store

On a recent trip to Los Angeles I got in touch with Ryan York (Jacuzzi) and Evan Harris (his co-manager) who as luck would have it, had recently moved a block away from me in West Hollywood. After some much-needed coffee, we discussed Ryan's move from Hawaii, Evan's former clients (Coyote Kisses), and our plans for the weekend. Normally, I would decline any offer from your average electronic retailers and be on my way. Whether specialised in music or not, I find these stores to be entirely unpleasant and solely devoted to impulse purchases and high-pressure salesmen; fluorescent-lit domains driven by flash sales, return policies, and the need to upgrade. This store is different, Ryan tells me. He explains that we can't simply show up and walk in the door. He needs to call, make an appointment, and be approved through some arbitrary process. Seeing as the friend that I was staying with was hungover and confined to his couch, I soon found myself heading north towards Studio City in a dilapidated, yet charming Volkswagen Jetta.

Despite a fresh layer of orange paint, the building was as unassuming as could possibly be. If there was any signage it escaped my eyes, and the windows were inexplicably blacked out. "I guess it must be around back," Ryan says with a hesitant laugh. He calls the number that he'd found on a forum to confirm. It's around back. After a brief exchange a door opens and an equally unassuming young woman meets us. Her attention is immediately drawn to my camera.

The interior was more akin to a home that someone hadn't finished unpacking than a store. It was organised chaos. The young woman vaguely points at a set of keyboards as Ryan's eyes light up. His fingers place themselves on a Prophet 12 and he begins to play something that I'd describe if I had paid attention at the time. He is, in every sense of the word, captivated, so Evan and I proceed to look around the store. Pedals were strewn across the floor; boxes of all sizes were everywhere; racks upon racks of controllers lined the walls; in the corner, a man fiddled with the front plate of an analog synthesiser and asked not to be photographed.

After several minutes of fiddling with the keyboard an older man, the shop's owner, stepped into the room. He asks us how we're doing and doesn't encourage us to buy anything. He's in my good books. I ask him if any big musicians buy hardware from him and he avoids the question. I ask again, and he opens up a little more. "Trent Reznor comes in every now and then," he laughs, "He comes in and we just add everything to a tab… I gave his accountant a bit of a shock a little while ago when I'd forgotten about his tab for a few months. Then, one day I remembered and had to come knocking for seventeen grand." He then tells me a story about how Radiohead's Johnny Green commissioned a shop in the UK to build a synth rack for their song Idiotech. Being the only store in the US to sell those racks, they soon ended up in their possession, but they later sold them on eBay and neglected to write all this in the description. How his relaxed attitude hasn't driven him to bankruptcy perplexes me, but I suppose that's the benefit of specializing.

Ryan asks about another synth, a Moog, and the young woman walks across the store to a cavernous back room that I was explicitly barred from photographing. Boxes of keyboards are stacked from floor to ceiling, a quantity easily worth upwards of six figures. I notice a Pez dispenser sitting on a shelf and take a photo of it to occupy my time. The young woman returns and tells us that they have what I later find out to be a Moog Voyager XL in a rare white colourway. Apparently this is a big deal, because Ryan has his credit card out before I've turned away from the flip phone I found on another shelf. The woman rings him up and American Express doesn't find a large purchase to a card registered in Hawaii at all suspicious.

As we're about to leave, Ryan remembers one more thing that he needs and asks to see their keyboard stands. They don't sell them. He then remembers that he'll need quarter-inch cables, but they don't sell those either. The old man, overhearing us, returns from the back with two cables that he gives us for free. As we leave I find myself once wondering again how the store stays afloat. I guess it doesn't matter.

Author's Notes:
-       At their request, the store's address, name, and names of its employees have been omitted.
-       If you know which store we're talking about, please don't advertise it in the comments.
-       Ryan opted not to eat out that evening.

This article is low carb and gluten-free - @bluuuuueeeeeee

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