Profile

As the name suggests, CDs and newer strains of music play second fiddle at this West Village record shop. A veritable silo of bygone music, the space is dominated by swaths of used vinyl, while the creaky floorboards and scarred wooden album racks lend a farmhouse feel. There’s the usual classic rock, folk, and jazz sections, but also ones for new wave, house, and even Japanese electronic music. And yes, there are some CDs and DVDs, but they’re an afterthought compared to the countless boxes of 45s, or even the rare vinyl behind the counter. The staff can also track special requests, assuming they’re still in print. Virtually all you see is for sale, from the threadbare vintage tees and obscure movie posters to the campy wall clocks and banged-up stereo equipment crammed beneath the register. In fact, the only things off limits are the glass bongs, which belong to the hucksters on the sidewalk out front, and the pink invite to a Joey Ramone tribute bash, signed by his surviving bandmates, that hangs over the counter. — Alex Littlefield