Jerry's Record Shop
There must be tens of thousands of records there
Passed from generation to generation
Sitting in the stacks, some scratched, some pristine
Mostly organized
Some not
Hundreds of classifications for them
Classical, early rock, Christian, popular, vocals, comedy
They have virtually everything rare
And it’s funny because I wanted a simple copy of Sinatra & Brando in Guys and Dolls
I couldn’t find it where it should have been
And I found the tall wiry help clerk to help me
We searched a good ten minutes through tombs
And catacombs
Of ancient 45s and long plays
We were obsessed with finding it
We didn’t find it.
The man sighed and admitted that as soon as I left he’d probably find 3 copies in perfect condition
I asked about the Steve Miller Band because I couldn’t find them either
He took me straight to them and asked me what I was looking for
I said
“when I die and my kids are looking through my records I want there to be a Steve Miller band record there and they will listen to it and love him as much as me”
He said,
“I see. Well, I have some extras in the back if you can’t find that one you hope for”
I said
“thanks I think I’ll get this one right here.” He asked “does it have jet airliner on it?”
I said
“no but it has Swingtown and in the winter time on it”
I dug up some other great pieces of history that day as well
Some old cosby comedy, some Saturday night live with chevy chase and gilda radner on it
Some george carlin from when he was so young I didn’t recognize him
An old beatles album from the best sellers shelf
I love the smell of all the old records
I love the scattered hand written
Cards directing searchers where to search
I love the claustrophobia of the place
The thin little aisles in the back
Stock full of old ethel merman and Julie Andrews
Herb Alpert
Hip hop
Bowie
And the people walking around knowing that they are cool by proxy
And the independent video store next door
With the clerk
Smoking her weed
And suggesting movies to us
But that’s not all
It’s Jerry’s
It always will be
That place with old sleeves on the walls
And I wonder what that tall wiry clerk would recommend
Maybe some old cowboy classics or some elvis
He might be an elvis man
Maybe not though
I could see him putting on a kinks album while doing his dishes
And I’ve never met Jerry. He may be dead.
He may have left his records behind.
But then when we check out I see a cell phone number for him
I want to call him and thank him for having this record store
The beacon of the east coast
With City Lights on the west coast
And Jerry’s on the right
We will get through this life
Holding on to our old history with fiery eyes
And anxious ears
Because everyone wants to forget about records
But why do we excite in burning the previous?
It makes no sense to me
I can’t wait to try out my new finds
My new gems from the dust