I am almost as old as dirt, so I can remember lying on the bedroom floor in the mid-60s, eagerly playing the newest 45 on my portable record player. I especially loved finding out what was on the flip side of the best-selling song, and I often liked it better (cue up Big Girls Don’t Cry). Then, there was the chance to hear a song uncensored, as the radio stations would only play copies that were considered “clean.”
Fast forward to 2025, and seeking vinyl is accessible again. That tactile feel, the cover art, the thrill of finding a rare recording, and the chance to have the store owner make a recommendation instead of listening to the annoying AI DJ on Spotify. We can return to Empire Records and High Fidelity or hang out with Mollie Ringwald at Trax. And here, on the South Shore, we have the real thing in Old Town Records and Salt-Water Ballad Books. Located only an hour apart, with plenty of good food choices in between, these two shops are worth a day trip.
Old Town Records’ Mike is congenial and clearly a vinyl aficionado. He has an eclectic mix of albums packed into his tiny shop on Montague in Lunenburg, with a bookshelf of music-themed books, and a little bit of merch. I could spend all afternoon just looking at what he has on the walls. When I stopped in, we talked about how he started out, mostly as a hobby, and then slowly realized he could make a living out of what he loves, as opposed to being bored behind a computer.
His buying the shop two years ago was serendipitous as he and his partner were putting down roots locally after leaving the UK. As we chatted, I could sense his love for collecting but also his desire to share his knowledge (a friend tells me Mike’s recommendations are second to none). We chatted a bit about bands I loved, musicians I had met, and ones I would love to have seen. He made me feel better about never seeing Clapton live.
Mike also emphasized how vinyl is a better way to support artists. I also shared that I prefer the sound of vinyl over digital. Analogue is continuous, so in my mind, it provides a more immersive experience. And, as many of us are currently wondering, we talked about how AI could eventually ruin it all.
Salt-Water Ballad Books is tucked away in an old barn on Long Cove Road in Port Medway. Parking on the side of the road, I was greeted by Jeremiah, who was in his garden. We walked a winding gravel path through lovely gardens, back to the barn.
Walking through the door was like walking through Alice’s looking glass. Jeremiah has renovated and insulated the barn. It has two stories, with a small lounging area in the loft where you are encouraged to chill out. There’s a nice collection of vinyl, definitely curated well (I salivated over a cool Lou Reed). The walls are covered with movie posters and shelves upon shelves of books.
Upstairs is a sizable collection of movies and the beginnings of a curated collection of vintage furniture. Jeremiah said he is melding together all his passions—vinyl music, books, film, furniture, and community-building. You can see the touch of love in every corner of the building and its contents. Moving from Ontario and trying to find a place to settle on the coast, Jeremiah and his partner stumbled upon the listing for this house and barn, which have proven to provide exactly what they were seeking.
Both shops are worth a visit even if just to chat with Mike and Jeremiah. Mike contends the interest in vinyl never really waned, but it has come to the forefront in the past decade because a younger clientele has become interested.
My favourite part of each visit? When Jeremiah put a record on his turntable, and I could hear the grooves. At Mike’s? His last question to me. He asked if I knew back in the mid-60s and 70s that the music era I was experiencing was one of a kind. I didn’t then, but I do now, because, of course, I am as old as dirt.
