Magazine
Fifteen Minutes with
Joshua Wright
Whatever “It” is, Norfolk, Virginia, never had it. A rundown military town, Norfolk paled by comparison to nearby Richmond’s rough-around-the-edges cool factor, and neighboring Virginia Beach’s perennial (if cheesy) vacation appeal. But the city is experiencing a revitalization once thought impossible. Granby Street, once lined with abandoned storefronts, now has the hippest restaurants for hours around. In the last few years, as brownstones went up and warehouses became lofts, would-be business owners saw an opportunity to help craft Norfolk into a cool city. Joshua Wright and David Hausmann’s startup story could have come straight from the movie High Fidelity. The high school pals saw potential in the new urban aesthetic of downtown Norfolk. In 2002, they were working at an area record shop, thinking they could do things better, so they maxed out personal credit cards and opened Relative Theory in 2004.
In an age when even Tower Records has gone under, Wright, 28, and Hausmann, 29, knew from the beginning they would have to open more than a record store. They envisioned Relative Theory Records as something of a community hub and added a performance stage, an art gallery, and a café to invite people to hang out awhile. They see themselves as an increasingly solid anchor for downtown Norfolk, and their original ideals for the business have held up pretty well: “music, culture, community.”
TNAC:How did Relative Theory get started? What was the spark?
JW:We think the record store is a cool safe haven for thoughts and ideas, really just the kind of place that Norfolk needed… Record stores across America are going away. The year we opened, we were one of just seven independent record stores in the country that opened that year.
TNAC:What kind of people are attracted to your store?
JW:We get a range. In the early evening it’s people between 17 and 20 who are just hanging out mostly. TCC [Tidewater Community College] is across the street, so in the mornings we have a lot of college kids who come in for coffee, to do homework, check their email, whatever. Lunch is suits, coming in to show their friends the local record shop, pick up a few albums. After school is Governor’s School kids—their high school is down the street. The really good days are when people are here who really understand how to use our space. They’ll hang out, go to a show at the Norva [a 1500-capacity
indie concert venue across the street], then come back. When that happens, it just feels so good. We’re like a home base.
TNAC:I’ve been working off this theory that for the young creative class, all you need is a good bar, a good coffee shop with Wi-Fi, a concert venue within a few hours drive that brings in good acts, and a local record store. With those in place, you can live anywhere.
JW:Yeah, like this third home idea. Not work, not home, but this other place you go and are comfortable and accepted… It’s this place you can go and be yourself, come as you are, meet people, engage with other people. Since we are a multifaceted venue, we hope that people would find a way to make Relative Theory theirs—to take the things that we offer and use them in their own way. Like, the people who don’t buy music but come in
a few times a week for coffee because they like the energy in our space or someone who comes in just on art openings because they want to support alternative art venues in the area, whatever the case may be… We wanted to create a space where ideas could be exchanged and people could interact with others in their community.
TNAC:Independent businesses have their own struggles, but record stores face an entirely new set of issues too. I was listening to a radio host who said he really had no idea what the industry would look like in a few years.
JW:No one knows. And that’s the question—how to bring the record store back? What can we do to make this place profitable? How can we survive in this industry? No one knows what’s going on. Vendors that have been around forever are going under, getting bought out. It’s just a really crazy time.
TNAC:Do you get a sense that you’re getting like “pity business”— that’s not the right word, but are people vocal that they are making a statement when they buy from you?
JW:Yeah, some people are like, “I need you guys around, I like my community
to have a record store.” If everyone went to Starbucks and Best Buy, every neighborhood would look the same. Do we really want a monoculture? Hampton Roads is a pretty transient community—it’s a military community. We wanted to give kids inspiration to stay here, not to leave for D.C. or Philly or New York. Maybe we can be the spark to jumpstart that community here. We thought kids would have a thirst for what we do. We thought people would be more with it. And certainly we do get tastes of that feeling, but we just thought it would be more prolific.
TNAC:I grew up in Norfolk, and my brother is one of your biggest fans. He was always wanting to get out and move to D.C. or New York, but now, when he comes home from college, he’s in your store nearly every day. It’s a place where he feels he belongs.
JW:It’s things like that that make the long days and the bounced checks and the slow sales bearable. Thanks.
This article appeared in the Summer 2007 issue of Next American City magazine. SUBSCRIBE NOW!
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