"The Vinyl Game in Greeley: A Look at Downtown Sound Records and Tapes"
by Alexander Cain in the UNC Mirror, 10.7.24
Somewhere, this side of the rainbow, there is a place for us all. It’s not the same place for everyone. It also isn’t always a single place. I have found my place on this side of the rainbow. All last summer, me and whoever was willing to join me on my excursions would spend entire afternoons—often turning into evenings—bouncing between vinyl shops, pawing through bins, arguing, agonizing, cursing the prices and then returning home to tear open the shrink wrap and lay the disc down on my turntable, watch the ink colored grooves spin into a dark whirlpool, needle touching groove, a moment of static limbo. Then…Music!
There are four or five vinyl shops in my hometown, but down here in Greeley, the only game is Greeley Downtown Sound, a little outfit on 10th Avenue. It’s the first in a row of three faded brick storefronts with quarter-circle display windows. One is a tattoo parlor, another is empty with a “FOR RENT” sign in the window, and the last is Greeley’s lone vinyl shop. It’s the most intriguing of the storefronts with a black and white striped awning sloping over the front and it’s two windows cluttered full of memorabilia/records, the centerpiece of it all a replica of the Capitol Records building, towering over everything, dwarfing the vinyl, posters, and lunchboxes.
Rows and rows of vinyl bins, bookshelves of crooked CDs, old jazz pressings behind glass cases, colorful posters plastered on the eggshell walls, DVDs and Blu-rays filling spin racks, vintage turntables and speakers up on the shelves. On the walls are some of the store’s most valuable records—original Rolling Stones pressings, albums by The Band, some jazz records, and a pristine copy of “Fragile” by Yes. Not bad for first impressions.
I prowl the store; I’m waiting for the man. The man is John Jankow, owner of this charming shop, which moved here from Loveland at the start of 2024. Thank the rock ’n’ roll gods for it, since the town had been lacking a shop ever since the last one closed, and I might have gone nuts if I had to drive back to Fort Collins whenever I wanted a new record.
John runs the store with his wife Jenny, and their son Ben manages it. It’s a real mom-and-pop shop, which means either fair or decadent pricing. There are plenty of $5 records amidst the more expensive ones (the priciest I saw was $300), which is a sign of salvation for a financially wounded college student.
After a hasty shaking of hands and exchanging of names, Jenny and I sit down on a couch near the front door while John stands with his hands in his pockets, staring down at the ground as I fumble with my digital recorder. We exchanged a little small talk. Journalism major, 18 years old, that sort of stuff. Enough about me, let’s get to you, John and Jenny. Tell me about your store. Did you own it from the beginning?
“No,” they both say. Then Jenny, to John: “You go ahead.”
They bought it, John tells me. There were three owners before them, and now they’ve inherited the shop, spending a few years in Loveland, then moving here to Greeley. I ask them a little about which town they like better (Greeley), if they mind the college kids—they don’t; in fact, they like them quite a bit— and other things of that nature. But once I start asking about their inventory, John comes fully alive, lifting his head, alert and ready to finally talk about the real stuff. The music!
“Classic rock’s a staple,” he says, taking me across the store. “We get a lot of that in.” He shows me through the new vinyl: Beatles re-issues, Mazzy Star, Mac DeMarco, Chappell Roan and Sabrina Carpenter. I took note of Waltz for Debby and Duke Ellington & John Coltrane. I bought the former the same day and the latter a week or so later.
He shows me the audio equipment, down by the folk stuff, including something called the AT-LP60, an Audio Technica turntable that plugs directly into speakers, no receiver required. Perfect for dorm life, he tells me. And that reminds me, I am a broke college kid. Some of these records can run 20-40 bucks on average; I’ve got to pay tuition! Textbooks aren’t cheap, and neither are the printer costs. So I ask him: “Do you have an opinion on why you should buy vinyl over a streaming service?” then, as an afterthought: “Like, as a college kid.”
“The thing is that vinyl is very tactile. You can…you can hold it,” John says, looking down at his hands and forming them into the shape of an invisible disc. “You can see the artwork; you can read the lyrics. It’s kind of an experience where you have to be a little more deliberate about sitting down and putting on an album and listening to an album all the way through, instead of playlists and kind of things like that.”
I started laying into John about all of my favorite music, starting by asking him what he thinks about Lou Reed, and his band, The Velvet Underground.
“Now, Lou Reed’s weird,” John says. “I know a lot of people love him, I never really…Lou Reed’s one of those ones that never grabbed me.” You’re entitled to your opinion John, but you should know, it’s the greatest music ever made. Anyone who has sat down and really listened to their first three or four records knows that.
“I kind of grew up listening to that,” Jenny says. “My sister was in college at the time, and she used to bring them home. I kind of have a soft spot for that kind of stuff, and it reminds me of when I was just getting introduced to music.”
We move on to Patti Smith. Then Coltrane, Mingus, Talking Heads, Swans, all of them. “What are some of your favorite records in the store right now?” I ask them.
Jenny starts talking about the boygenius record, a group she saw at Red Rocks. “So good,” she summarized. John takes out a vinyl by There Might Be Giants, called Lincoln. He tells me it’s one of his favorite albums of all time. I write it down in my notepad, the first of two recommendations I take from John (the second being Venus and Mercury by Wings).
The store closes, John flips the sign hanging in the door. We spend another twenty minutes or so swapping recommendations as I pay for my Bill Evans record. What a feeling it was, walking back out into the golden Fall evening and hitting the pavement, knowing that I had a brand-new record to listen to later. The journey from downtown Greeley to the dorms is a long one when you don’t own a car. Once I was back, I tore open the cellophane, as I’ve done a million times before, and I put it on the tiny player in my dorm, and I listened.
If there is something to take away from this, let it be the consideration that if you want to buy vinyl records, buy them at Downtown Sound. They are wonderful people, who run a wonderful shop. Who knows? It could be your place this side of the rainbow.
There are four or five vinyl shops in my hometown, but down here in Greeley, the only game is Greeley Downtown Sound, a little outfit on 10th Avenue. It’s the first in a row of three faded brick storefronts with quarter-circle display windows. One is a tattoo parlor, another is empty with a “FOR RENT” sign in the window, and the last is Greeley’s lone vinyl shop. It’s the most intriguing of the storefronts with a black and white striped awning sloping over the front and it’s two windows cluttered full of memorabilia/records, the centerpiece of it all a replica of the Capitol Records building, towering over everything, dwarfing the vinyl, posters, and lunchboxes.
Rows and rows of vinyl bins, bookshelves of crooked CDs, old jazz pressings behind glass cases, colorful posters plastered on the eggshell walls, DVDs and Blu-rays filling spin racks, vintage turntables and speakers up on the shelves. On the walls are some of the store’s most valuable records—original Rolling Stones pressings, albums by The Band, some jazz records, and a pristine copy of “Fragile” by Yes. Not bad for first impressions.
I prowl the store; I’m waiting for the man. The man is John Jankow, owner of this charming shop, which moved here from Loveland at the start of 2024. Thank the rock ’n’ roll gods for it, since the town had been lacking a shop ever since the last one closed, and I might have gone nuts if I had to drive back to Fort Collins whenever I wanted a new record.
John runs the store with his wife Jenny, and their son Ben manages it. It’s a real mom-and-pop shop, which means either fair or decadent pricing. There are plenty of $5 records amidst the more expensive ones (the priciest I saw was $300), which is a sign of salvation for a financially wounded college student.
After a hasty shaking of hands and exchanging of names, Jenny and I sit down on a couch near the front door while John stands with his hands in his pockets, staring down at the ground as I fumble with my digital recorder. We exchanged a little small talk. Journalism major, 18 years old, that sort of stuff. Enough about me, let’s get to you, John and Jenny. Tell me about your store. Did you own it from the beginning?
“No,” they both say. Then Jenny, to John: “You go ahead.”
They bought it, John tells me. There were three owners before them, and now they’ve inherited the shop, spending a few years in Loveland, then moving here to Greeley. I ask them a little about which town they like better (Greeley), if they mind the college kids—they don’t; in fact, they like them quite a bit— and other things of that nature. But once I start asking about their inventory, John comes fully alive, lifting his head, alert and ready to finally talk about the real stuff. The music!
“Classic rock’s a staple,” he says, taking me across the store. “We get a lot of that in.” He shows me through the new vinyl: Beatles re-issues, Mazzy Star, Mac DeMarco, Chappell Roan and Sabrina Carpenter. I took note of Waltz for Debby and Duke Ellington & John Coltrane. I bought the former the same day and the latter a week or so later.
He shows me the audio equipment, down by the folk stuff, including something called the AT-LP60, an Audio Technica turntable that plugs directly into speakers, no receiver required. Perfect for dorm life, he tells me. And that reminds me, I am a broke college kid. Some of these records can run 20-40 bucks on average; I’ve got to pay tuition! Textbooks aren’t cheap, and neither are the printer costs. So I ask him: “Do you have an opinion on why you should buy vinyl over a streaming service?” then, as an afterthought: “Like, as a college kid.”
“The thing is that vinyl is very tactile. You can…you can hold it,” John says, looking down at his hands and forming them into the shape of an invisible disc. “You can see the artwork; you can read the lyrics. It’s kind of an experience where you have to be a little more deliberate about sitting down and putting on an album and listening to an album all the way through, instead of playlists and kind of things like that.”
I started laying into John about all of my favorite music, starting by asking him what he thinks about Lou Reed, and his band, The Velvet Underground.
“Now, Lou Reed’s weird,” John says. “I know a lot of people love him, I never really…Lou Reed’s one of those ones that never grabbed me.” You’re entitled to your opinion John, but you should know, it’s the greatest music ever made. Anyone who has sat down and really listened to their first three or four records knows that.
“I kind of grew up listening to that,” Jenny says. “My sister was in college at the time, and she used to bring them home. I kind of have a soft spot for that kind of stuff, and it reminds me of when I was just getting introduced to music.”
We move on to Patti Smith. Then Coltrane, Mingus, Talking Heads, Swans, all of them. “What are some of your favorite records in the store right now?” I ask them.
Jenny starts talking about the boygenius record, a group she saw at Red Rocks. “So good,” she summarized. John takes out a vinyl by There Might Be Giants, called Lincoln. He tells me it’s one of his favorite albums of all time. I write it down in my notepad, the first of two recommendations I take from John (the second being Venus and Mercury by Wings).
The store closes, John flips the sign hanging in the door. We spend another twenty minutes or so swapping recommendations as I pay for my Bill Evans record. What a feeling it was, walking back out into the golden Fall evening and hitting the pavement, knowing that I had a brand-new record to listen to later. The journey from downtown Greeley to the dorms is a long one when you don’t own a car. Once I was back, I tore open the cellophane, as I’ve done a million times before, and I put it on the tiny player in my dorm, and I listened.
If there is something to take away from this, let it be the consideration that if you want to buy vinyl records, buy them at Downtown Sound. They are wonderful people, who run a wonderful shop. Who knows? It could be your place this side of the rainbow.
photo by Jalen Reiman