The story · 1984
The story of Groove Bin Records
Groove Bin smelled like old cardboard and carpet cleaner. Records lived in milk crates sorted by a system only Roxanne, the clerk with the purple mohawk, understood. You could try a tape on the headphones at the counter if you asked nicely. The corkboard by the door was layered with flyers for bands nobody had heard of yet.
Fun fact
Roxanne rated every purchase with a sticker on the bag: a star, a shrug, or a tiny frowning face.
