The Record Store

Back Cover Blurb Four pounds each. No labels. No refunds. No explanation. When Denny Kilbride, failed bassist and reluctant owner of Groove Merchants Vinyl & Collectables, finds a crate of blank white records in the back room, he assumes they are a clearance-company mistake. Then he sells eighteen of them in a day, to people who cannot say why they wanted them. By the end of the week, the whole town is playing them. By the end of the month, the whole town is hearing them, with the turntable off, in the bath, in the dentist's chair, in the quiet gap between one cough and the next. The records play back whatever you most want to hear. They keep a copy. And somewhere beneath the shop, something very old is counting the house. It is up to Denny; his sharp-tongued assistant Priya; a retired sound engineer with a lathe and a grudge; and a narrator of towering literary ambition and no discernible self-doubt, who wishes it recorded that he saw all of this coming, to cut the one thing the town will never buy: silence. A brisk, cheesy, deadpan horror-comedy in the grand tradition of the dark mystic school. Side A is funny. Side B is worse.