Mod Lang

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Just when you thought it was curtains for old-school record shops large and small (see Tower Records), a Bay Area indie store leaves the beaten track to return to its original passions: customers they like and an inventory of vinyl records, magazines and memorabilia driven by their personal tastes rather than Top 100 hot lists.

After a successful decadelong stint as mail-order dealers and swap-meet regulars based out of their home, Paul Bradshaw and Naomi Diamond opened Mod Lang at the top of Berkeley’s University Avenue in 1993. The name Mod Lang derives from a song by ’70s Memphis rock band, Big Star, and the record shop’s inventory came from the overflow at their home and backyard garage.

Put simply, Bradshaw, 52, is a classic example of what happens when a passion turns into a plan, sort of. Bradshaw’s relationship to his product was that of a connoisseur, he readily admits he is much better at acquiring than selling, and he seems to have a knack for spotting the rare and remarkable in imports, indies and re-issues.

Sleeping With the Fax

Before the store, English-born Bradshaw would rent a van and head to swap meets to send vinyl back to the U.K. but would often bring back more than he brought. He had a special affinity for imported picture-sleeve 45s. “Record label art departments would put out five or six David Bowie releases with different art, one for France, Spain, etc. and those became collectible,” he notes, adding that he remembers carting around 80 boxes of 45s at 100 per box.

Soon, he was wholesaling to record dealers all over the world with weekly faxes. “The home-office idea sounds great, and I had always been fascinated by the convenience. You know, work when you want, no commute. The problem was that we had a worldwide clientele, and I’d be jumping up at 2 a.m. to check out the latest fax spooling in from Japan.”

Bradshaw, with Diamond vehemently seconding the emotion, realized that by staying small and home-based they were working potentially 24-7, never passing on any responsibility. “That’s when we decided to find a store,” he notes. Enter a retail space in downtown Berkeley, a block from the UC campus and strategically located next to a comic shop.

Bradshaw rode the Britpop craze of the early ’90s to much acclaim (Oasis did its first meet and greet at Mod Lang) and sales. Careful, if not slightly paranoid, Diamond, the business head of the two, refuses to give her age or discuss operating costs or sales volume or profits and loss for the shop, but for nearly a decade they had a solid run.

Bradshaw remembers the day the light bulb went off a few years ago. “I put a new prerelease on, say, Jeff Buckley, that I had just taken out of the package. No one had it, or so I thought. One of my employees started singing along.”

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