As we were out looking for shoes my travel companion got all wide-eyed and excited by a sign reading “used books.”

“Can we go into the used book store??”

“Uhhh… I guess…” I didn’t really see what was so exciting about this even though I have frequented many used book stores in my day.

“All we have is Borders back home! Do you have any idea how long it’s been since I’ve been in a used book store?!”

“OK, OK, I’m pulling over!” I mean how many people could possibly be frequenting a place like this? It should be relatively safe in this era of epidemics.

It was just a little place with three parking spaces in a tiny terrifying parking lot (which you had to back out into a busy street to get out of.) I was paying more attention to this than anything else as we walked through the doors. Inside we found not the promised books on the sign but instead a little record shop. Oooooh, this could be dangerous. I had left most of my record collection behind during a bad break up four years ago and had always wanted to build it back up again.

As my companion wandered off to look at a few shelves of used books I got wide-eyed myself staring at one particular label – Phil Ochs – which seemed to have a bunch of records under it. Now, just to let you know, I have been looking everywhere for Phil Ochs vinyls since I got my record player some 10+ years ago. I’d been in shops in New York, Vermont, Massachusetts, and Maine. I’d sifted through hundreds of milk crates at yard sales, flea markets, and antique venues and had always come home empty handed. And here, in this quiet little practically hidden shop there had to be ten or so records, all different, from Phil Ochs. That was almost his whole discography for his intensely short life. I almost laid an egg. This was 1960’s folk heaven.

And it got better. They had a section for New Riders of the Purple Sage and had an album with Henry and Panama Red on it which I always found hilarious. Jefferson Airplane had a winner with all-too-relevant Volunteers, a replacement to one of the albums I left that I dearly loved, and then something unexpected. As I walked out to the back room there were sections for less well loved record genres but intensely interesting none-the-less even a whole section on international music. I’d never seen records from South America and other exotic locales. I wish I knew something about them but I just didn’t. And then there was a huge section devoted to comedy.

Should I? I already had an armful. But there could be some old George Carlin records in there… I started to sift through it, throwing Cosby aside with the proper amount of disdain. He was goddamn everywhere here but then I started finding gems. There was an old Carlin record. There was also a cache of Tom Lehrer records! I’d been listening to Tom Lehrer in the car on the way here! They had to go home with me. And then I found the most delightful random thing. It was a record by Lord Buckley. Who is Lord Buckley, you may ask, and well… he was a nudist and Beatnik in the 1950’s who had one of those waxed mustaches that made him look like he just got back from tying a woman to the train tracks. Totally bizarre human being and here was a record of his telling the story of Jesus in so much vibrant Beatnik slang as to make it nearly incomprehensible. It may not be everyone’s thing but I HAD TO HAVE THIS. I mean when would I ever see this again?!

And I wasn’t the only one finding treasures. Across the room my travel companion had a number of books and CDs including George Carlin for the car. Because you can’t beat George Carlin. And after we cashed out (with me parting with a painful $64) we realized there was a whole upstairs we hadn’t seen! So we headed up there. There were a lot more books up there and another room filled with dollar records. Helloooo Barry Manilow! We left before getting ourselves in further trouble but I shall be back! What a great find this store was!

For funsies here’s some YouTube clips of my finds. First up is Phil Ochs with the closest thing he ever had to a hit. A scathing ragtime commentary of the political climate sung with chilling sarcasm.

Next up New Riders of the Purple Sage also singing with cheeky sarcasm about driving certain illegal goods across the border.

And to continue with the spirit of protest is Volunteers – a powerful rock number from Jefferson Airplane.

And onto an older sort of humor that’s no less still quite political. Tom Lehrer’s My Home town always amused me because nothing’s changed…

And of course the weirdest thing you will probably ever listen to – a rambling recollection of Jesus’ story wheezed out in colorful Beatnik slang by Lord Buckley…

What did I learn from this collection of audio? Only that I am more political than I let on and comedy really is the other side of tragedy. I laugh so I don’t cry.