Featured Conversation: Mike Monteiro

Published on Feb 28, 2025

Good morning. Would you like to introduce yourself?

My name is Mike Monteiro. I am 57 years old. I have listened to records my whole life. I have some, I hate the word collection, records. I live in San Francisco. I grew up in Philadelphia, and I’m very excited to be here.

I’m excited to have you here. Mike and I have known each other a long time.

We dated back in the 40s.

Yeah, we went to sock hops together.

The first thing I want to talk about is a zine you made in 2020 called 31 Perfect Records. What makes a perfect record to you?

Nothing. It’s a nonsense phrase. There’s absolutely no way a record can be perfect. I say that in the intro to the zine. It’s silly. Because a perfect record to me is not going to be a record to you. What makes a perfect record to me is I heard it at the right time. It left a dent of some sort. There’s times when it calls to you, like, if I’m in a particular mood, good mood, bad mood, sad mood. There’s a record. There’s a record that matches that mood, and that’s the one that I pull out. I’m like, Oh, fuck. I really need to go listen to this right now, and it’s the record that either gets you out of that mood, if it’s a bad mood, or, like, kind of gives you the whole atmospheric experience. Like, yeah, now the outside matches what’s going on on the inside.

So it’s perfect at that moment.

Yeah, it’s perfect at that moment. And it’s perfect for me at that moment. The idiocy of that zine is that, for me, those are 31 perfect records. You can look at it and you could be like, two of these are okay, and that’s fine. That’s fine. Your list of 31 perfect records would be totally different from mine. And that’s what’s great.

That’s what I loved about reading the zine. I didn’t even know some of those records, and I’m thinking, well, these are perfect to him, yeah. So I am going to listen to some of them to see if they’re perfect to me.

What’d you find?

There were a couple I wanted to look at. Believe it or not, I have never, for reasons, listened to David Bowie’s Blackstar.

Really?

I just kind of separated myself from it at the time, and I never went back to it. And that’s something I want to explore, because I’ve been really into listening to Bowie lately.

Well, I love that record. I think it’s a great record, but, your reasons for not listening to it might be the thing that’s most important in that equation. I don’t like to force things on people. When you’re on a road trip and somebody’s in charge of the music, a good person will figure out what the whole car wants to hear. What’s going to get the whole car’s vibe going? And then there’s always that one person who’s a jackass, who’s like, I’m going to convince you that this song is great. Yeah, my dude, we’re in the middle of a road trip.

Not the time to listen to new music.

This is the time when you have to, like, understand the vibe, the whole group vibe, and ride it out.

Tell me about your records.

I got records. Some of them are old, some of them are new. Some of them, I’ve bought four or five times at this point. Some of them, I forget that I have, quite honestly, and some of them I listen to all the time. And I’ve got this room that’s just full of records.

So how did you get into records and music in general? Was it something you did on your own or did somebody get you into it?

Well, I mean, there’s always somebody, right? Growing up records were like,if you wanted to listen to music, you had to buy a record. Cassettes hadn’t even come into play yet. They existed. But honestly, you were much more likely to find an eight track at that time than a cassette. So you listen to records. And, you know, not, I’m going to be really cliche here for a second, but getting that little record player in your room and getting a set of headphones it’s like that Mountain Goats song; whatever’s going on outside this room can’t make it in here, right? You know, you put on your record, you put on your headphones, and you create your own little world. It’s great. It’s a survival mechanism. And it’s also a way to talk to other people, because then you go outside and you find other people. The way we built community when I was in high school, you like the same bands right? We were real shits about it. If you didn’t like the same bands, you were an asshole. But I think that’s just part of being a teenager. Having all of these ridiculous dividing lines based on if your music has too much of a beat or something like that, but at the time, if you like the same bands, you would become friends and you listen to each other’s records, and folks came over to listen to records.

Listening to records was a very communal thing back then.

It was like, come on over. We’ll listen to records. And it was in a very trying time, where people were still very judgmental. And I’m not saying that doesn’t exist now, lord, but it was an acceptable way for men to make friends with other men. And it was mostly that, I mean, there was, there was a very sexist aspect to all of this.

It gave you a common bond, where you’re more than just two guys hanging out.

Well, we need to hang out over something, so why can’t it be these angry guys screaming and playing their instruments really badly.

The other part of records is, it gave you a location. So if you needed records, you had to go to a record store to get it. And that gave you a place to go that wasn’t home or school, and you got to meet people in the record store. And this was at a time when you either went to a weird place, like Sam Goody, or later on, as you got a little bit more hip to things you find, the hole in the wall record stores that were a little weirder, like Third Street Jazz in Philly, which is, unfortunately, is no longer there. But I remember the first time going in there and just being blown away. And you go to a record store, you meet weirdos, you flip through the records, and at that point, every record is an “or” decision, like, I can buy this, or I can eat, I can buy this, or I can buy cigarettes. So, you know, every, every record decision is very important, because it’s keeping you from doing something else. And this is back when records were $7.98. The nice price.

What are your first memories of listening to music on your own?

In my bedroom as a kid, I had one of those record players like a Crosley. I don’t know what make it actually was, but it’s one of those self contained turntables where you lift the lid and there’s a speaker. So I had one of those, and I had some singles, I had some LPs, and I would just sit in my room listening to them. And I remember, at that point, you would put on your headphones and read along the lyric sheet. You studied that whole thing. It was like you checked out every detail of the cover, which was also kind of my way into design, because these were the first design items I ever studied. How do they make this? How does this happen? How does text go over an image? Like, how do you get an image of a horse on a plane? Weird shit like that. And therefore, you open up your sketchbook and you try to draw every band’s logo in your sketchbook. How many times did I draw the Yes logo as a kid?

Oh god, that was my favorite one to draw.

And the Zeppelin logo, I drew that. This was my intro into typography, drawing logos of crappy bands.

On that note, have you ever bought a record just for the artwork?

Absolutely, 100% I still do it. I do it fairly often. I see something, and it’s intriguing, and it’s like, I have no idea what’s in here, but I want to find out.

The first Phoebe Bridgers record is one that comes up. So I’m in the Seattle airport, and there’s a Sub Pop Shop, which always made me go to the Seattle airport earlier. I wanted to go to the Sub Pop Shop. And in the back, there’s a bunch of records on the wall, and one of them has a photo of a young woman, and somebody’s painted like a ghost, with the ghost sheet over her. And I was like, that’s really intriguing. That’s really effective and really good and I looked at the name Phoebe Bridgers, I’ve never heard of her, and I bought it. And I was, like, amazed when I actually heard it, but yeah, I bought that.

That’s an amazing pickup when you didn’t know anything about it.

Right? I mean, I would have found her eventually, because she blew up. And she continues to make fantastic music, but at that point, totally unknown, and the cover just jumped out. And I was like, I’m taking a chance on that one.

Are you a completist when it comes to artists? Do you get everything in the collection of your favorite artists?

With some artists, I try, with others, not so much. not so much. I’m probably going to regret talking about this. So I’m in Germany, and I’m in a little record store and all of a sudden, this song comes on, and I really like this song. I’m like, what? I didn’t I didn’t know Cat Power had a new record out. So I go up to the clerk, and I’m like, Hey, I didn’t know Cat Power had a new album out. And they look at me, and they’re like, you’re an idiot. This is the new Lana Del Rey. And that was Norman Fucking Rockwell.

Great album.

It’s a fantastic album. It’s a great album. I still listen to that one semi regularly. And, I mean, I’d heard of her, of course, but I hadn’t heard her, not knowingly. So after that, I came back home and I was like, I gotta check out more of this Lana Del Rey, and I picked up a few more of her records, and none of them ever hit?

The same for me.

This is all right. This is fine. You know, I’m not, you know, trying to shit on her or anything, but that particular record hit me in a way that her other records haven’t. And I get that it’s kind of, it’s amazing, because the way it came to me was literally in the air. I heard a song. I had no idea who it was, and it was a very honest reaction. This is good. And then when I found out who it was, I was kind of shocked, like, Huh. But, yeah, that’s a banger of a record.

What’s the weirdest record you own?

A single from Neil Young’ Reactor record. It is a triangle. It’s “Southern Pacific” with “Motor City" as the B side. You have to carefully open it up [see photo].

That’s really neat.

I’m a sucker for good packaging. But you know the weirdest records that I wish I still had? Do you remember when cereal boxes came with records?

Yeah, I had the Archies’ “Sugar Sugar.”

Yeah. So the back of the cereal box itself would have like a flexi disc glued to it. And you would eat your box of cereal, which was very easy to do on a Saturday morning, and then you would very carefully cut around the box, and you’d have a little Flexi disc.

Love those, that’s the way I first listened to records.

I had a bunch of those growing up. Sadly, I no longer have any. Which is stupid. What I would love to get my hands on at some point is a Russian X-ray record. Have you heard about those?

No.

In the old USSR, kids couldn’t get records pressed. Bands couldn’t get records pressed. They couldn’t find the vinyl for it. So they would get their hands on old x-rays and etch records into the X-rays. You’ll find them on eBay, look for old Russian X-ray records. And this was all stuff, all bootleg shit that they were getting from Europe and the U.S. If you wanted to listen to the new Stones record in Leningrad, there’s a fairly good chance you could get it on an x-ray.

I’m going to look into that. How has your record collection and appreciation for vinyl evolved over the years?

Well, it’s no longer an “or” situation. I no longer go into a record store and think, Well, if I can buy this or I can have dinner tonight. Also they’re like, 25 bucks now, which is crazy.

There’s also that I can get more of them. I know the format is so stupid. It’s 2025, and I’m not one of those people who’s like, well, you know, this is the best way to listen to music, because it’s not. It’s an objectively terrible way to listen to music. They’re big, they break. You have to flip them every 20 to 25 minutes, and they’re expensive, and they take up so much room in your house. If you haven’t started buying records, you should not. But a part of it is a ritual. It’s a ritual that started when I was a kid. You go to the record store, you get a record. And part of that ritual is going to the record store. And part of that ritual is being in the record store. It’s flipping through the bins. And part of that ritual is picking out the record and walking home with the record, and then putting the record on, like all of those things are important, and I’m not. I’m not judging anybody who doesn’t want to do that. In fact, I commend them on not being a prisoner of that kind of ritual. But this is me, I only have to make this decision for myself. I don’t have to talk anybody else into it. That, to me, is really important, right?

So I used to travel a lot when I was out speaking at conferences and stuff. And the thing about all that is I was usually doing all that traveling by myself, so I’d find myself all alone in this city I’d never been in before. And you go from a conference with 1000 people, and they know who you are, and it’s a little much, even though I appreciate all those people, it’s a little much. And then the opposite of that is you’re, you’re absolutely alone in a city you don’t know, and I got around that by finding record stores. So you’d get to a new city, and you’d look up record stores, and you’d see like, Okay, well, there’s a group here. Let’s try these out. And you go into a record store, and you know you’re going to find something very familiar in the record store. There’s going to be bins. You can flip through the bins.

I always made it a point to ask people, do you have a local bin. So you find records that you never find anywhere else. And you know if they were playing something that you didn’t recognize, you strike up a conversation. I hate this analogy, but I think it’s like church. It’s like what church does for some people, it gives you that place of belonging and, and being with a group of people who you all have this thing in common. And maybe leave here and you’ll disagree about a million things, but while we’re here in this place, we’re all united by this thing that we all enjoy, this thing that we all care about. And we’re more open to going up to a stranger and saying, hey, what is this? I’m here for music. You’re putting on music. What’s this music that you just put on? It’s got me interested. And they’re all excited that somebody’s asking about the music that they put on, and all of a sudden you’re having a conversation with this Dutch person that you’ve never met before, about some weird band that they just decided to put on. When you pull out that record, you’re not remembering the music on that record. You’re remembering that connection. You’re remembering the whole circumstance that brought that record to your house. You remember meeting that introverted Dutch person at the record store who really wanted you to ask, what is this? And you’re remembering that conversation that you had, and you’re remembering bringing it home on a flight, and then you’re remembering adding that to the collection. Because what you’re actually adding. You’re not adding a record to a collection, you’re adding a memory to a memory bank.

That’s a beautiful sentiment. Do you have a favorite record store?

I have a thousand favorite record stores.

I have two locals, two main locals, three main locals. That number is going to keep going up. Amoeba Records is a few blocks away, and they’re semi local. I mean, there’s three of them, Berkeley, San Francisco and LA. They’re pretty well known, and they stock everything. Also Stranded, which is a tiny record store, and they specialize in playing music that you don’t want to hear when you walk in. That’s their whole thing. God, I hope they read this and never let me in again. But seriously, I’ll walk in and it’s like, what the fuck do you not want customers today? But they’re, you know, they’re really good at recommending stuff that’s off the beaten path a little bit. They’ve got one guy who works there who’s incredibly knowledgeable about soul, both new soul and old soul, which is not something that I know that much about. So I love talking to him about that stuff, because I’m learning. But honestly, my favorite record store is probably the one I can get to within, you know, the next hour. I’ve had layovers so there’s a record store in Copenhagen where I’ve actually made sure that my layovers in Copenhagen are long enough that I can take the train out to the record store and come back. My home record store, I think, is always going to be Third Street Jazz in Philadelphia.

And you said they don’t exist anymore?

No, they’re long gone. Third Street Jazz was amazing because it was an old jazz record store, and you walk in and it’s all jazz. And I’m, like, 17 at this point. I have no use for that. I don’t understand it. I don’t like it. It’s weird. But then you go down into the basement, and they stocked like the most, like alternative/new wave/punk, y that I was actually looking for at 17. Yeah. And so that’s the stuff that I was looking for at that time. But the more I went into that store, the more intrigued I got by the main floor. At first it’s like, gotta walk through this crap to get to buy my Die Katzen record. But the more I would go in there, the more I was listening to what was going on in the main floor. And there’s a point at which it’s like, I don’t know, call it growing up, or call it whatever, but the main floor starts to be like, wow. This is interesting. This stuff is good. I like it. And sadly I moved, and sadly they closed and but, man, if I could take a time machine to Third Street Jazz right now, I would murder that main floor.

What’s the last record you played?

I played the new Squid record.

How is it?

It’s still on the turntable. It’s really good. It’s called Cowards. Here’s my last trip to the record store: I got the new Squid. I got a reissue of Deee-Lite. By the way, that is a record that younger me would have not been caught dead listening to because I was an idiot. And I got the new Kendrick.

I thought of my weirdest record. Devo’s Beautiful World [see photo above] as a die cut astronaut head that I’ve had since it came out in 1981. And as I was reaching for that I grabbed this; there’s a woman on instagram, teeny tiny vinyl and she has recreated her vinyl in tiny, maybe two inch records. She made me this Minutemen’s Double Nickels on the Dime. She does all of the details. And this is like the paper sleeve that only has the hole on the one side and that is correct. She researches all of the details and she puts this thing together. And the best part is she sent me this many years ago, and she said, I really don’t like this record. Oh, but I made it. I made it for you.

Mike Monteiro is a designer, writer, and painter living in San Francisco. He hates audiophiles whatever you’re using to listen to music is just fine. Protect trans kids.

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