There Stands the Glass

Nostalgia is a noxious trap. I’m careful to avoid becoming ensnared by the unhealthy sentiment as I excavate the moldy contents of dusty boxes and rusty file cabinets during my seemingly endless quarantine. Yet I was snagged by an overwhelming rush of memories when I uncovered the pictured advertisement printed next to one of my record reviews in a 1993 copy of The Pitch.

While I have no clear recollection of Abbey Road, I associate each of the other retailers listed in the promotion with youthful music discovery and carefree hangs with friends both living and dead. Ron Rooks, the late owner of the vinyl behemoth The Music Exchange, was one of my worthiest adversaries. I also miss Anne Winter of Recycled Sounds and Dan and Dave Conn of the Music Exchange. Dan later worked at Disc Traders.

I bought my first ECM album at Classical Westport. Exile stocked irresistible novelties behind a glass counter. The shops in Lawrence were often engaged in enthrallingly spiteful competition. And I was introduced to the aloof indie aesthetic at Spiney Norman. Was life better in 1993? Not necessarily. I’m just grateful to still be here wistfully recalling the bygone era.