No genre walls, no bestseller endcaps. Just crates sorted by mood, a turntable you're allowed to touch, and someone behind the counter who'll actually tell you if a record's any good.
Four records the counter can't stop playing. Fictional labels, real taste.
Flip the dividers the way you would in the shop. Everything's still alphabetical inside — we're not animals.
There's a listening station at the back with actual headphones — plug in before you buy. First Thursdays are open-deck nights: bring three records, take the mic, no cover.
We buy collections too. Bring boxes, not bags — vinyl hates a canvas tote.