Toasting Jam

Well the long and short of it is that Jam Records may not even have the word ‘café’ in its title, but it comes near the epitome of the perfect Flaneur hang out. (There must be a word or phrase for such a place; may have to invent one. Havre de repos, perhaps?) 

Situated halfway up a hill in Falmouth, Cornwall, one might be forgiven for thinking it a bit off the beaten track by almost any standards. Except mine, of course; and perhaps yours too, or you wouldn’t have time to read this. In fact, Jam is situated smack bang in the middle of things, if you’re into emerging art, wild nature and beautiful youth. There are two specific centres of gravity for the former and the latter: Kings Cross in London, and West Cornwall.

For some reason – shared resources and creative cross pollination is my guess – the arts colleges in the UK are beginning to cluster, and the two notable locations are a massive new campus at Kings Cross and a collection of smaller ones around Falmouth. Add the established art scene of St Ives just across the headland, and you’ve got a very arty crafty creative environment. The difference down here is that there are also beaches and harbours, caves and secluded islands, moors and stone circles; the jewels of art and beauty in their true and fitting setting.

So why Jam records in particular? It’s not like there aren’t a few cafes hereabouts. Well, the others are… cafes. Some are better than others, some are  chains collecting real estate in order to service shareholders via consumers, the usual high street scenarios, but basically spaces for the selling and imbibing of beverages. But Jam records is, well -  a record shop. A passionate and eclectic one, at that. They may have put a coffee machine in before the grand demise of music’s physical product or after, like Brill in Exmouth Market, London, but either way it works.

Think about it: you want to find some good new music, and you trust that someone who runs a record shop, remembers your purchases and knows your taste will come up with righteous stuff. And this is about leisure, pleasure, transportation, so haste would be entirely perverse. What better while taking in their suggestions than to recline on a battered leather sofa with a well made cup of coffee and drift off?

Relaxation suffuses your cells and as the aural is sated you turn to the ocular: upon what sweets can you feast your eyes? Well, that’s where Jam wins on two levels: firstly the literature festooning the place, and secondly those who read it. One of my pet hates (as well you know) is muzak. If you think your space needs music, then have some balls and play some music. Play something good. If I really don’t like your taste, then I’ll drink elsewhere, and those who do like your taste will take my place. You’ll find your folk. Well, the same goes for coffee table reading matter. If you’re going to put something out, make it good. Don’t insult me with masturbatory marketing leaflets telling me how good your café is for those smiling folk in the Third World; don’t put bookshelves in to make it look like a living room and then spend 20p in the charity shop next door on fifteen utterly unsaleable but vaguely decorative books that you’re not even expecting anyone to pick up – after all, who reads? You don’t.

Where was I? oh. Yes. Sorry about that. Well, anyway, Jam is chock full of seriously good art books, contemporary photography and design journals and creative culture magazines, many of which are for sale. In fact, again, the impression is of an art and design bookshop that happens to sell first rate coffee and cakes. After idly thumbing through a dense volume on typography I realised I simply had to have it; I would probably also have bought several on photography and art, and the CD they were playing, and a ticket for a local band whose demo went on at one point too, if I’d had someone to carry it all for me and hadn’t already blown my wad completely on the typography book. But there’ll be other visits…

…trust me, there’ll be other visits. Let’s turn to the ‘those who read it’ bit of Jam’s winning coffee table book strategy. Last time I came here, I found myself sitting next to a chap on the big sofa and noticed he was reading a fairly specialised photographic journal. No, not that kind; otherwise I’d have just peered over his shoulder. Well, we struck up a conversation, and found we not only had art photography in common but also a shared passion for darkroom alchemy including Liquid Light photographic emulsion. You thought my geekdom extended only to the borders of the Caffeine realms? No, indeedy. Mind you, I did mention the typography book earlier on, so you can’t be shocked completely blond. But the point is that this quality of encounter would be an unusual occurrence in Starbucks on Oxford Street.

However, the bonus on this visit is the nymph sat across from me, who is so beautiful, so breathtakingly, innocently sixties Chelsea art scene that I feel vulgar raising my lens to her to share the vision with you. I’m too tongue tied even to say hello.  So you’ll have to get your brogues and pointy boots into the fresh Cornish air and come down and see for yourself. I mean, there must be six art colleges in the area and this café is their cool as tuck common room, so you’d be dreadfully unlucky to be sat here on your Jack Jones. It’s interesting company, I tell you. I could drain coffee and chat or just simply hang out, gaze about and breathe it in all day (to the internal strains of the adagietto of Mahler’s Fifth, naturally)…

The external soundtrack is equally inspiring, of course. Good new stuff I’ve mostly never heard before. Lots of folk, indie and world music. They’re so on it  that they even have their own Spotify playlist, website, blog, and downstairs with record player. It’s natural cool, though; they’re not guilty of trying too hard. That always smells dodgy.

Yes, yes; the coffee’s good. Faema machine, good milk (I didn’t ask, but I’m guessing it’s local), good water, outstanding beans; of course it’s good. Look, I know what you’re thinking, but face it – I’m bound to wax lyrical about the place: It’s a folk indie record shop selling the best selection of art and design books and journals I’ve seen in ages, world film, vinyl, local gig tickets, coffee and cakes, and populated with battered indie furniture and beautiful artists. By a beach. Where the hell else do you suppose I would rather be?

 

        Jam Records, 32 High Street, Falmouth, Cornwall  TR11 2NA           01326 211 722

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