This tiny space isn't for the claustrophobic, but it's definitely for those on a vinyl mission. Pick an album—any album—and Dave's Records probably has it hidden within its miniscule trenches. So dig in, and perhaps we'll see you in a bit when you and the handful of other music lovers searching for tunes come up for air.
It's a motley crew that gathers here to shop. There's the scruffy DJ, bleary-eyed and ready to face the day after just waking up at 4 p.m. Breakfast for him consists of a quick discussion with the cashier behind the elevated register, which is reminiscent of the raised stages housing turntables at Excalibur or Sound Bar.
There's the sugar-riddled teens with their long bangs and black-and-white Converse sneakers squeaking on checkered tiles. They yell over the wooden shelving units at each other, both in agreement that one of them is holding on to the best album ever.
There's the thirtysomething camped out in the middle of the rap and hip-hop aisle, brushing his hand aimlessly across sleeves as he browses for nothing in particular. A half-turn places him in front of the albums remastered from original tapes, and also in front of the cashier. The cashier's on the phone, deep in a conversation about the brutality and thanklessness of running a music label. Sure, it's a dirty job, but someone's got to make these albums. All you've got to do is buy them.
Centerstage Reviewer: Nola Akiwowo
