The real record shop died a slow death in the '90s. What I mean by real
is: 33, 45, and 78 rpm; all genres; record care supplies; ephemera; the
selection of replacement styli; the stylus magnifier; the audition
turntable and headphones; tobacco smoke _OR_ an old man chewing a cigar
_OR_ the hourly help dealing pot out the back (but preferably all
three); two pair of JBL L100 on the walls; cardboard stand-up Beatles; a
ceramic nipper somewhere in the store; at least one crotchety old worker
and one bipolar young worker; a jaded owner that USED to be in "the
business"; the smell of paper aging (the not acid-free kind); and let's
not forget the most important part of a real record shop--delusional and
weird record collectors. Yes, it's dead.
Roger and Allison Kulp wrote:
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