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Few storekeepers have been as passionate about the music that they sell — or about New York house of the 1990s in general — as the cantankerous team that presided over Dope Jams. With an unparalleled selection both new and classic and an off-the-beaten path location, the store became a cult destination for serious house and techno collectors, who wore a hazing from its holier-than-thou employees as a badge of pride. Whether you loved them or hated them, there was no one like Dope Jams.
— RBMA
Dope Jams isn’t merely a clubhouse for dance music pranksters; it’s the embodiment of a critique, though one that falls outside the realm of the strictly intellectual. It’s the last reserve of dopeness in a world they see as increasingly bereft of it….but they must know their model isn’t for everyone, that, like the ultra-orthodox Jews living a few blocks up from the shop, they ultimately have to coexist with an outside world operating under very different rules, for better or worse.
— Jordan Rothlein, Resident Advisor
It was only when we started perusing the wall-mounted racks of new releases that we realized we were dealing with something we’d never encountered before: a store unafraid to speak the truth. Not objective, inarguable truth; but its own truth, righteous and largely convincing.
— Tim Purdom, FACT
In a world of too-safe critics and techno-back-patting, they’re unafraid to speak their minds but at heart are just a couple of characters with an outspoken true love for music.
— Chris Tarantino, Time Out