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Ian, the gregarious brother (and father of Riot Police singer Alex Boyd), generally handles the Glebe store, while James, the quiet one, mans the downtown spot.

“We’ve always felt we would appeal to the 20 per cent of people who value listening to music at home,” Ian said. “We thought we could succeed if we appealed to people like ourselves.”

Photo by Julie Oliver / Postmedia

Their first venture was funded by a summer program designed to encourage students to become entrepreneurs. In April 1978, the Boyds set up a stall on Somerset Street, next to the old Saucy Noodle nightclub. They were thrilled to sell seven albums the first day.

Now they’ll sell at least a half dozen albums on a busy morning, plus a handful of CDs, maybe a T-shirt, and probably some concert tickets. The day I visited, new albums by Johnny Cash, John Prine and Myles Goodwyn were selling well, and a steady stream of regulars was perusing the used vinyl.

One of those regulars was Michael Lemon, a middle-aged dad who stops by about once a week to check out new releases, and see what used LPs have come in since his last visit.

“They just don’t have bastions of society like this anymore,” he says. “Kids don’t understand music at all. They’re so digitally wound up. They don’t know there’s tangible music you can hold and feel and read liner notes. They don’t know good sound. They just look at their phones.”

He said he didn’t buy records for a few years, although he hung on to his collection. “In ’93, we were told we couldn’t buy vinyl. You couldn’t give records away, but some of us kept them because it’s a nice way to listen to music.”