Music Is My Best Friend

[grace_newsome]

Grace had spent the blizzard nestled indoors, and had run out of tasks and productive things to do pretty quickly. She ended up spending a few hours compiling a winter playlist. Specifically titled, Winter Needs To Die. It was mostly depressing 80s songs and shoe gaze.

Once the weather had evened out a bit, Grace decided to visit a little music shop. She had heard about it from a homemade-looking flyer that had gotten stuck to her windshield. And really, that was the best way to hear about anything.

The bell on the door jangled merrily, and she entered the store followed by a blast of cold, lung-invading air. She peeled her gloves off, the fingers turning inside out, and wandered lazily over to the new releases. There weren't many people around, so it was easier to let her carefully constructed guard down. Slightly.



[Open to Brian]

Comments

[brian_campo]

The house sound system was on, a heavily MacGyver'd old set-up with speakers tucked into nooks and crannies around the shop. When Brian stood in the center, he felt wrapped in music. Just now the opening chords of Swamp Thing by the Chameleons played. Inexplicably the song always made him think of rain on a highway, red taillights and windshield wipers rhythmically slinging water out of the way.

He lifted a hand in greeting to the customer and scanned a bulletin board for outdated flyers to tear down. "Hey." He balled up a pink one and lazily tossed it into a trash can.

[grace_newsome]

She always seemed to be on some two second delay. When the employee greeted her, it wasn't like that was unusual. But there was a lag time between thinking and acting, when for most people, it sprang out automatically.

"Hi." And then a smile. A tiny one.

Grace had come in with an actual question, but when she took a step forward, the lyrics of the song that drifted through the store struck her and she had to pause. That happened a lot, even in Wegmans; and they played awful music. But she had always felt this strange obligation to listen to what someone put effort into writing.

Right, the question. "I bought one of those cheap record players online, but I realized I didn't actually own vinyl records. Do you have older ones?"

[brian_campo]

"Yeah." He nodded, a wad of paper bouncing between his hands. Brian debated whether to ask her how cheap, because there was nothing worse than a new piece of technology ruining a vintage one. "Anything in particular? You're welcome to browse."

Brian was not a natural salesman. He didn't like making the big push. The place turned a small profit, boosted by nostalgia and location; he'd been in the neighborhood before the hipsters caught onto the fair trade coffee shop across the street, before the neighboring warehouse that used to hold weird radio components became a craft brewery with live music.

[grace_newsome]

Grace toyed with her mittens absentmindedly. "I was thinking old blues records. Something that I can put on while making tea and it just makes you feel like...you're in another time."

She browsed the titles in front of her, chewing on her lower lip. During winters, she had to reapply lip balm about 30 times a day. Not that she had counted.

"Has this store been here long?"

[brian_campo]

"Nine years." Brian walked immediately to another aisle and began flipping through covers. "It used to be a sandwich shop. Sometimes I think I can still smell onions."

He crouched, straightened, moved, crouched again, picking out albums and setting them aside for her. When he was finished, he gestured for her to come closer and tapped the small pile.

"Ideas," he said. "Georgia White, 1930s... upbeat, kinda clanky piano songs. This woman was a fan of booze. Next we have John Lee Hooker. He could play the hell out of a guitar. Then there's Laverne Baker. Love, loss, a little bit of Jesus. And Champion Jack Dupree... Actually, let's listen to this one."

He headed to a record player and gently removed The Chameleons album that had been spinning. A moment later, 'Alberta' began to play. "In case you're wondering, I'm intentionally avoiding the Starbucks greatest hits of blues, available at any register.

[grace_newsome]

"Love, loss, a little bit of Jesus," Grace repeated. "Sounds kinda like my family." The words were out of her mouth before she could run them through the many filters she employed in conversation. "Sorry, that was..."

Hoping the color wasn't rising in her cheeks, she turned her attention toward the music.

"This is exactly what I wanted." Grace tilted her head thoughtfully as she listened.

[brian_campo]

Brian heard her, but let it slide because she wanted it to. He looked at the album cover still resting in his hands.

"It's pretty good," he agreed. "Mississippi might be the birthplace of the blues, but I dunno. Nobody can touch these old guys from New Orleans." Brian watched her react to the song, a spark of excitement making his thoughts move quicker. It was easy to spot genuine music enthusiasts from the way they processed music, even music they didn't like.

He handed her the album cover.

"Does your family like music? My dad got me into it when I was a little kid. Zeppelin, Jefferson Starship, the Zombies." He smiled. "Prince. That was an outlier."

[grace_newsome]

She was grateful he let the comment drop without a weird or questioning look thrown her way. Grace blew out a puff of air, making her hair move out of her face.

Examining the album cover, she managed a sliver of a smile. "I grew up in choir, church mostly, but kind of gave it up when I got older. My family is still into it, though."

The girl held up the sleeve. "I want to buy this. It's weird to actually hold music in your hands. I mean, until awhile ago, I've mostly only had an mp3 player."

[brian_campo]

"It's better, right?" Brian's smile was crooked, like they were sharing a trade secret. "I always wonder what musicians are signing for kids now," he said as he walked to the register and leaned his elbows on the counter, in no particular hurry. "I mean... No CD cases, nobody buys magazines anymore, concert tickets are on your cell phone. I guess it's just selfies with the band playing in the background."

He had been in a band once, a small punk outfit that had some success locally but never made it out of the northeast. He tried to imagine some kid offering up a smart phone app and asking him to sign with his finger.

[grace_newsome]

Grace gently set the record on the counter. "I'm not sure. I've never actually been to a concert. I mean, not like a real one." She shrugged lightly. It seemed a nightmarish scenario for her. Yes, the music would be amazing, but all those people packed into one place, jostling and fighting for position.

"Do you go to many?" It was probably a dumb question to ask someone who worked at a music store, but for once, Grace wanted to keep the conversation going.

[brian_campo]

"All the time," he said. "But these days I just stand in the back with my drink. It's weird. You'll be going to shows, thrashing around, getting sweat on by lead guitarists, and then one day you realize your back hurts and you're drenched in other people's beer, and you retire to a spot near the emergency exits."

He scratched behind his ear. "Why don't you go to one?"

[grace_newsome]

"Pretty much for the reasons you just described."

Grace paused, took a fortifying breath, and continued. "Okay, better example. When I was little, my big sister took me to the midnight release of the newest Harry Potter book..."

She preemptively cringed. "I had a panic attack, and almost threw up on her Gryffindor cape. So, that happened at a Borders, not a mosh pit."

[brian_campo]

Brian smiled. A small chuckle escaped him and he stood up straight behind the register. "Believe me, I can relate. I'm more anxious around things than people." There was a can of open soda under the counter, which he took out and drank as he thought about the problem. "Flea markets. Pretty much my kryptonite. Maybe you can ease in with a coffeehouse show. It's acoustic, it's not too loud, nobody's slamming into you because they don't want to spill their coffee."

He reached into a mini fridge and offered her a can of Coke.

[grace_newsome]

She took the soda, and smiled back. "Thanks."

Grace alighted upon some of the scattered flyers as she popped the aluminum tab. "I never thought about that. Makes sense."

[brian_campo]

Brian rang up her purchase. "Twenty-four bucks," he said, watching her peruse the stack of event flyers. "That's going to be a good show. The blue one. They're from Worcester. Kind-of a neo soul vibe." He placed the record in a plastic bag to protect it from the elements and added a round sticker advertising his shop. "Even Jesus-loving parents would approve."

[grace_newsome]

"They're not so bad. They're the reason I'm a Coltrane fan." Grace pulled out a blue and white wallet, adorned with an embroidered bicycle, and pulled out two twenties before handing them to Brian.

After a second of deliberation, she decided to slip the blue flyer into the shopping bag. "Just in case I get some ill-advised courage."

[brian_campo]

"If you get there early, you can watch from the balcony," he suggested, making change. "It's a cool building. Good vibes. It used to be a bar with a cigar lounge."

Brian came around from the counter and headed to the record player. "Speaking of good vibes, I need some if I'm staying awake for the rest of this shift. Any suggestions before you go?" He smiled at her.