Sam Ash stores were a tri-state area institution for a century. The flagship store in midtown Manhattan was known by its “Come in an play” tagline, a mecca for beginning and touring musicians. After merging with Manny’s across the street and acquiring the “Guitars of Distinction” famously pre-owned instruments, you were just as likely to run into Steve Howe from Yes auditioning the latest Gibson hollow body guitar as you were Steve from Accounting playing Led Zeppelin riffs over lunch time.
It was as much a judgement free zone for musicians as a place where the sales team provided expertise, insight and encouragement. We bought our son’s first guitars and amps there, my first (serious) basses and amps, any number of percussion parts, pedals, and paraphernalia. I firmly believe the guitar shop from “Wayne’s World” was modeling on the guitar floor at the beacon Sam Ash, as was Ian Faith’s exhortation in “This Is Spinal Tap” about finding mandolin strings in Austin (if you knew Sam Ash, you’d know where to look).
What started out as a speciality store selling accordians and sheet music became the equivalent of a music “big box” store with guitars, bass, drums, keyboards, professional sound and lighting and used gear to make the concert goer drool. Like Caiazzo Music of my hometown Freehold, NJ (where Bruce Springsteen bought his guitars, and where I bought my first non-serious bass in 1980), economies of scale, inventory management, the internet, and the explosion of boutique brands and brand variety in the Gibson, Fender and friends space made music retail unsustainable. For Sam Ash, the Covid lockdown further exacerbated the deceleration; just as they moved out of Times Square to the Madison Square neighborhood in a larger space, the dearth of foot traffic and used gear sales meant there was very little to “come in and play.” The first time I found a lack of inventory in late 2020 I could see the cracks in the foundation; I was just as guilty of hastening the decline by auditioning basses in person and then buying them, used, on Reverb, at a discount.
While doing some research, I discovered the Sam Ash name has been acquired by a Mexico-based online store, selling mostly entry level gear. Sam Ash lives on in tactile and auditory memory.
Is there a solution to this Coasian economic problem? When property rights are clearly defined (you’re buying a specific piece of wood that makes noise, yes) and transaction costs are low, the market tends to be efficient. When buying a guitar for half a month’s rent, though, the transactions costs escalate: you need expertise, repair services, an array of colors and finishes, and a place for buyers to audition and play loud(ly). A car dealership model doesn’t quite work, because your local dealer offsets the sales transaction costs with service revenues and there’s very little inventory shrink and damage (although Manny’s on 48th Street figured this out, see below).
I want the equivalent of the emergent online mattress show rooms: a studio where you can come in and play, literally, then refer the buyer to an online marketplace for a vigorish on the eventual sale. It’s a cross between the CarMax model of flipping cars and the Amazon buyer referral commission program.
Entry level instruments work well in this model; for mid-range and semi-custom axes you need curation and expertise. One of my best bass shopping experiences was at the Chicago Music Exchange, where I was able to sit and audition basses for an hour and discovered (then local) bass luthier Serek. As my friend pep says about her sports car, “I kept thinking about it until I had to buy one.” That confluence of expertise, local representation, and encouragement led me to buy my first professional grade instrument, a decade after I started playing. Appreciating the craft, scale and provenance of an instrument is best done with someone who brings professional expertise to the stage — and I feel a bit of pride that I picked out a Serek a full two years before bass hero Mike Gordon of Phish traded his Modulus for the same.

Manny’s Music, later part of the Sam Ash conglomerate, had a yellow Danelectro guitar that was used for testing guitar pedals so as not to scratch the new stock. Any number of famous people and equally anonymous players picked up that beater to make music; rumor has it one shaky teenage plugged in and ripped into the opening chords of “Sweet Jane” as Lou Reed himself looked on. Once you experienced it, you had to buy something.
Is there an opportunity for Sweetwater and Reverb to partner with local music shops to broker a global inventory of better-than-student scale instruments? Maybe. Like car dealers, many home town music shops supplant instrument sales with lessons to bring in the service annuity. Is there a CarMax “ship to my location” low-enough transaction cost model to make that inventory accessible and combined with expertise to close sales? It would re-invigorate a music retail model that is declining, and hopefully re-introduce new musicians to new instruments. Not sure we’ll run into BB King, Lou Reed or Steve Howe shopping for new kit, but maybe we can enable their successors.