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Some say Omaha wouldn't be the city it is today if it weren't for Dave Sink.

Sink, who died last week at 63, was well-loved by many Omahans who ventured into Antiquarium Records, where he dished out recommendations and the occasional snarky comment on a purchase.

One of Omaha's most famous musicians, Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes, recalled the store as "the epicenter of discovery for my musical life (and life in general) and probably the single most sacred place of my adolescence.

"He had a way of making you feel good even as he insulted you. He was especially kind to misfits and oddballs," Oberst said. "Hence him nearly always being surrounded in the shop by a small enclave of disaffected youth. Boys mostly, but girls too, who would sit hour after hour listening to him pontificate about punk rock, baseball, local politics, French literature, chess, philosophy, modern art or whatever was the topic of the day."

Sink was a Central High School graduate and studied journalism at the University of Nebraska at Omaha. He later was an editor and reporter at the Omaha Sun.

He was a fixture at Antiquarium Records from the 1980s until he transferred ownership of the shop in 2006 and retired. The shop has since moved around the corner from its original location near 13th and Harney Streets.

Sink loved vinyl, underground and obscure music, baseball and talking to customers, often recommending something or flat-out criticizing their purchases.

He also started One Hour Records, which released music from local bands such as Mousetrap, Ritual Device and Simon Joyner, among others.

When Gary Dean Davis' band, Frontier Trust, wanted to put out a record, Sink was their man. Davis, owner of SPEED! Nebraska Records and a Catholic school principal, recalled getting the first pressing of the band's record and racing to the Antiquarium to play it.

"We didn't have a radio station, so the Antiquarium kind of became that because there were kids hanging down there," Davis said. "We'd play our record and they'd immediately come down to the counter and say, 'How can I get that?'"

Davis recalled him as a local music booster who made kids in bands feel like they were doing something legitimate.

Sink's death left many to wonder what Omaha's nationally-recognized music scene would be without him.

"Dave was neither subtle nor short of opinion," said Robb Nansel, president of Saddle Creek Records. "I shudder to think of what this city would look like if there had been no Dave and no Antiquarium. It's safe to say there would be one less record label and one less music venue calling Omaha home."

Oberst echoed the sentiment.

"All these years later, I can't imagine an Omaha without Dave Sink," Oberst said. "I can't imagine what my life and my friends' lives would look like if not for him and that shop."

Contact the writer:

402-444-1557, kevin.coffey@owh.com

twitter.com/owhmusicguy

I work in public policy and advocacy, you know, advocating for fairness and fighting for the less fortunate. Without Dave, I would not be doing the kind of work I do today. I, like many others, sought him out at the Antiquarium to learn about music, but through our innumerable conversations about politics and with Dave's support, I set out to fight the good fight. Who knew spending all that time chatting over coffee at the record shop (while I was skipping class no less) would lead to such an outcome?

A few years ago I was interviewed on the radio about my advocacy work and apparently Dave heard the interview. He sent me an email that said, "Great work, Jordan. Smooth." (Of course, this was after Dave caved and finally accepted a computer and email as a way of communicating.)

I will always cherish that message as much as the first time he approved of one of my record purchases, Husker Du — "Flip Your Wig," by the way.

— Jordan Delmundo, Omaha

I don't remember the first time I went to the Antiquarium or met Dave Sink. It all just kind of happened. I suppose I would have been twelve or so, just tagging along with my brothers and the older kids from the neighborhood. Whenever that was I know I could not have known then that that place would become the epicenter of discovery for my musical life (and life in general) and probably the single most sacred place of my adolescence. Dave was a rare bird. He had a way of making you feel good even as he insulted you. He was especially kind to misfits and oddballs. Hence him nearly always being surrounded in the shop by a small enclave of disaffected youth. Boys mostly, but girls too, who would sit hour after hour listening to him pontificate about punk rock, baseball, local politics, French literature, chess, philosophy, modern art or whatever was the topic of the day. The thing about Dave that gave him such a loyal following was not just the way he talked to us but also the way he listened. At a time in life when most all adults are to be seen as the enemy it was strange to meet one who was on your side. He treated us as peers, like our ideas and ambitions were worth something. He wasn't always pleasant or polite, but he wasn't a fake. And it is that quality that cuts through the angst and straight to the teenage heart.

He made me feel like my dreams and plans mattered, encouraging me to pursue them even as he talked trash on my latest recording or most recent show. It is true you had to be a bit of a masochist to be friends with Dave, but despite his sarcasm and argumentative nature he had a soft heart and generous spirit. He gave me a lot of good advice over the years, as well as my first real stereo and turntable. He said he couldn't stand watching me waste my money on the inferior formats of CDs and cassettes. Okay, truth be told, it may have cost me a backrub but I didn't mind. You see, even his fondness for teenage company and the arrested development side of his personality were never off putting to me. He was never creepy. He was sweet. I spent countless hours with him down in that basement sitting behind the counter (I never worked there but I was allowed to run the register) just smoking and talking. Smoking, talking and listening to music. Always listening to music. He would play old folk records or jazz records or cassette tapes of the John Peel show that his friend had recorded off the radio in Europe and sent him. He played cult classics and the newest local bands. Sometimes he would pull out some used LP that had just come in that he was certain I would either love or hate. He would place it on the turntable, with a gleeful smile on his face, just waiting in anticipation for my reaction. He would explain how this band related to that band or who stole what sound from whom. It was quite an education and opened my mind up to the idea that the music I liked and made came from somewhere. He made me realize that everything was connected. And it still is. Music will always be a mystery to me but Dave gave me plenty of clues I have been able to follow since. He got me a little closer to the source.

I saw Dave a lot less frequently in the last several years of his life. I travel too much and once the Antiquarium closed it became harder to track him down when I was in town. I really regret not making the time but I guess that's a typical thing to say at this point. But sitting here now, all these years later, I can't imagine an Omaha without Dave Sink. I can't imagine what my life and my friends' lives would look like if not for him and that shop. I know it would be nothing like it is today. I treasure my memories of him and that magical place. There is a part of me who will always wish to be more punk rock than I am because of Dave. I remember the day my brother Justin turned sixteen and we finally pried the keys out of my mother's anxious hands. We ran outside, jumped in the car and he started it up. As we pulled away from the house I felt that wild sense of freedom that only comes at a moment like that. It is the invincibility of youth and the absurd feeling that truly anything is possible. We hadn't discussed it but I knew where we were headed. We were going downtown to that crazy bookstore with records in the basement. We now had all the choices in the world and that was our pick. That is where we wanted to go.

— Conor Oberst of Bright Eyes

You don't have to have known Dave to have been influenced by him. His impact can be felt throughout our city. Whether directly or indirectly, Dave played a role in shaping so many aspects of our current music scene. Whether it was starting One-Hour Records to release Simon Joyner's first cassette or giving you an earful about the records you were buying, Dave was neither subtle nor short of opinion.

Yet it was those ideas, those debates, those long conversations with Dave that shaped our subculture's way of thinking not only about music, but about life in general. Dave instilled the DIY, punk rock aesthetic into a generation of Omaha kids that would grow up buying records, forming bands, starting businesses, touring in vans, and promoting shows.

As much of a critic as Dave could be, he and The Antiquarium were an institution of inspiration. They gave us the confidence to express ourselves, to think differently, and to question things. I shudder to think of what this city would look like if there had been no Dave and no Antiquarium. It's safe to say there would be one less record label and one less music venue calling Omaha home.

Here's to our favorite record store clerk. Thanks Dave.

— Robb Nansel of Saddle Creek Records

I didn't know Dave really well, but every time I went to the basement of the Antaquarium I knew I'd get a comment on whatever I was purchasing. I never had a good comeback.

Shorly after I bought a car with a CD player (instead of a cassette player like my last car) I went in to buy a few CDs one of which was Fugazi's "Repeater". Even though I had bought and replaced the cassette a few times already, it was the first time I'd bought it on disc. Dave complimented me on my selections and was happy to sell "one of the greastest punk albums of all time." Then he threw in "...of course you'd be better off if you bought it on vinyl instead of the CD... Sounds much better."

I finally had an answer to that: "Did they invent a way to play vinyl in my car?" He gave me a sly smile and my change.

— Chris Myers, Omaha

I first met him in '92. They had just moved the Antiquarium (Records) downstairs. It had been upstairs before. He got the band Mousetrap back together — they had played for awhile and then broken up — and started a record label.

At the time, I was in Frontier Trust and I thought, "I gotta go down and see this guy." He had done a cassette with Simon Joyner as well.

I had never met him, but it was like greeting an old friend. "Gary Dean! Good to see you."

He had a huge appreciation for musicians and I had never seen anything like that before. Here'st his guy who, I'm in my 20s, he's 20 years older than me and here he is knowing all about my band and had this huge respect for what we did and treated us all so well. It made you feel like there was some legitimacy to what you did.

He knew John Peel from the BBC and wrote him letters and stuff. He got our record played on the BBC. It was the "Highway Miles" EP, three songs on a 45 with a wooden nickel in it. Peel said the wooden nickel kept making his stack of records fall over, so he took it out and played it. From then on, he was playing Frontier Trust records all the time.

Dave was always really encouraging us to do those things like tour. Prior to that in Omaha, bands didn't do that. Not that I knew of. It was a really exciting time for that reason. You'd go out of town and develop followings.

Dave was a huge baseball fan. And I am, too. We'd debate stuff about baseball. We could tell stories about things, too. He liked the Yankees and then he liked the Cubs. Then he became a big Royals fan, in particular the Omaha Royals.

He'd also get to know your musical taste and he'd get records in the store that he knew you'd buy. And he was spot-on every time.

He could be the snarkiest guy, too. He'd make fun of people for the records they were buying, even though he carried it in his own store.

Dave meant the world to me. He was a pretty neat guy. Gosh, he was the kind of guy that made you feel good about what you were doing even when you had struggles or were trying get your band heard. You always knew you could talk to Dave about it.

Even in between his snarky comments, he had a way about making you feel good about what you did.

— Gary Dean Davis of SPEED! Nebraska Records

I moved away from Omaha in 1994. Dave never forgot me. For years I would come back for a visit and he always remembered me and what records I liked.
- Gina Pietramale

Dave was always super helpful and very encouraging of musical exploration.
- Casey Crawford

Can remember many a weekend looking for music down in the basement at the old location.
- Dave Christiansen

Have another tribute to Dave Sink? Add it below in the comments.