The announcement of the closure of the Archambault store on Berri Street shook me up and made me dive back into memories that are so dear to me.
I remembered the young music student who had just landed his second job (for life) as a classical record store at the Archambault in Sainte-Foy — this job where my knowledge of classical music increased tenfold, and where my passion for orchestral direction ignited. In the sheet music section, there were some operas that I watched avidly as well as some reference works on composition. And very often, one of my colleagues would say to me: “You should go and have a look at Berri. They have so many over there! »
Berry. This branch that was so often our solution when a disk or partition was not in stock.
No surprise to know that my first destination when I went alone to Montreal for the first time was this establishment. And what a meeting it was! I, who planned to stay there for an hour, remember spending the afternoon leafing through the scores for trumpet and piano, marveling at the scores of symphony conductors and discovering so much music.
From then on, it became a must — each time I visited Montreal, I spent half a day getting lost in my wonder through scores, records and reference books. To nourish the trumpeter, the composer, the conductor and the music lover in me. Debating with myself on what was the “reasonable” amount that I could invest in this inexhaustible source of musical culture. I remember that time when friends who accompanied me asked me, after thirty minutes, if I was almost finished — to which I replied, laughing, that I had just finished the section trumpets.
A place of discovery
Why bother to tell this? To illustrate the greatness of the loss of this establishment. Much more than just a store, the Archambault Berri has been a place of discovery and culture for many people. This is the place that allowed me to handle symphony and opera conductor scores for the first time. This is the place where I was able to leaf through so many reference works that formed me and which today fill my library. Without this reference in the musical trade, the young trumpet player from CEGEP would never have been able to develop his passion for orchestral conducting so much.
Yes, we can still buy sheet music online. We can always make musical discoveries elsewhere. But, quite often, buying online is done by someone looking for something specific. By losing the Archambault on rue Berri, you lose the possibility of exploring, of getting lost, of coming across unexpected finds, of manipulating, of leafing through. We lose the opportunity to let our curiosity lead us to the next revelation, the next discovery.
When we let this kind of store die, we run the risk of compartmentalizing a phenomenal musical heritage for those who already know it rather than opening it up to those who are discovering it. I recently wrote a text to talk about the music that is dying in schools, but it is clear that it is also allowed to die in our society in general.
When I assimilated the news of this closure, I came across a Facebook ad. A woman, wishing to get rid of her mother’s piano, threatened to “cut the saw through it” if she did not find a buyer. Ironically, this announcement confirmed my thinking: our society lets music die with great indifference.