San Francisco without a doubt has one of the country’s great music scenes. It was the epicenter of 1967’s Summer of Love. From the Grateful Dead and the Jefferson Airplane to Wooden Shiips and Or, the Whale, San Francisco bands have been consistently quirky, creative and, in my humble opinion, excellent. And the tradition of making music on the street is alive and well here, whether it’s a shaggy-haired dude bent over an acoustic guitar while sitting cross-legged on the sidewalk or a ragtag crew blazing through a percussion meltdown on everything from bongos to paint cans.

Plus, anyone who knows me knows I’m a music connoisseur. My knowledge of pop culture is encyclopedic. I’m probably the only AAA employee who’s seen obscure Cleveland art-punk band Pere Ubu live—three times. My custom mixes—I’ve made hundreds of cassettes and CDs for friends over the years—are legendary. In other words, I am a total fan. So whenever I’m in San Francisco I make it a point to go to Amoeba Music, the closest thing this music-saturated city has to a definitive record store. 

Amoeba is the biggest independent franchise in the country (there are branches in Berkeley and L.A. as well). It’s synonymous with music—all kinds—and also movies, especially the arcane and cult end of the film spectrum. Vinyl albums, cassette tapes, CDs, videos and DVDs come new and used. You can buy, sell and trade. 45s? 78s? They’re here. Both local and big-name musicians play at Amoeba’s frequent in-store, free live shows (Elvis Costello, Steve Earle and Chris Isaak are three recent examples). And given its location in the heart of the Haight, the place has a prototypical San Francisco hipster ambience. Vintage Bob Marley was on the sound system when I schlepped in. Customers run the gamut from deadly serious collectors diligently hunting down a single item to street freaks wandering around in an endless daze. Staff members aren’t just clerks in a record store; they’re passionate geeks and knowledgeable musicologists who know their stuff and are eager to share their knowledge with you. It’s right out of the movie “High Fidelity,” only on a larger scale. Z

The music selection is vast. Rock and its sub-genres predominate, but there’s every other style you can possibly think of, from reggae, ska and hip-hop to country, jazz and classical to African, Indian and Brazilian. Stacks of albums and CDs fill endless rows of aisles. It’s rather daunting to drop in without a specific shopping list, but there are plenty of signs identifying the different music genres and store staff who will steer you in the right direction.

Handwritten placards sitting atop the CD bins are a combination of sales pitch and amusing snarkiness. Above Britney’s “Oops!...I Did it Again” CD: “Guilty pleasure!” A cutout of Sting’s pensive visage on the cover of his solo album “Nothing Like the Sun” bears the message “Why does Sting look so bored on all his album covers? Because Sting isn’t shopping rock clearance!” That one was along an aisle with a sign announcing “Buy four clearance CDs and get the cheapest one free!” next to an old Carly Simon photo with a scrawled-on “Mmmm! I smell savings!”

Classic album jackets and rock posters plaster the walls. I almost caved and bought a poster featuring an arty, circa-1981 black-and-white image of Siouxsie Sioux, leader and icon of British goth punkers Siouxsie and the Banshees (she stared out at me from across the breadth of Amoeba’s cavernous, warehouse-like space).

And what did I buy, you ask? There’s no way I was going to walk out without buying something. Given the vast selection the challenge was formidable, but I finally narrowed my purchases down to three CDs: “Revolver” (the recently remastered version; I’m on a quest to obtain every one of the Beatles’ sonically revelatory remastered albums); “Burnt Weeny Sandwich” by the Mothers of Invention (I’m a HUGE Frank Zappa fan); and a best-of by ’60s troglodytes The Troggs (that includes such indispensable gems as “Wild Thing,” “Gonna Make You” and “I Can’t Control Myself”).

moeba Music is a must stop for any music lover, whether you’re a serious oenophile or just a casual fan. I defy you to walk out empty-handed. And don’t leave without taking a look at the mural that covers the entire left side of the building; it’s a sterling example of Haight Street wall art. 

Amoeba Music is at 1855 Haight St. (near Stanyan Street). The Berkeley location is at 2455 Telegraph Ave.