Oh, what a strange and beguiling place, the record shop. Somehow, the assemblage of vinyl adds up to more than the sum of its parts. The advent of CDs and MP3s failed to relegate vinyl to the status of the 8-track or Betamax. There’s a beauty and simplicity in records that makes their existence necessary; the lore and ritual surrounding vinyl makes record shops necessary.

Sure, you can buy records online, but what you miss by doing so is the tactile sensation that is the cornerstone of vinyl’s appeal. The sensation is similar to the little tics and rituals that come with smoking. Visiting a record store, running your hands through the stacks, stopping at an intriguing cover, pulling the record out to investigate for cracks and scratches, bringing it to the counter and asking an employee, “You heard these guys? Are they good?”

It’s romantic, the search and discovery of a great new record.

My father worked in a record store (Peaches Records) for a number of years when he was my age.

“My experience goes back to pre-Internet, of course,” says my father. “Nowadays, I think, more than ever the human touch is what’s going to keep a brick-and-mortar store alive.”

Speaking with Marty Campbell, owner of Buzzard’s, which was voted Best Independent Record Store in the Weekly Volcano’s 2010 Best of Tacoma Readers’ Poll, he tells me of the process they go through to find the right employee. It’s a rigorous interview.

“It’s 54 questions with 64 parts, usually given by a panel of three people,” says Campbell. “It’s a highly scripted interview that is carried out in a very casual way. … Anyone can say, ‘Tell me what you know about punk music. What do you know about country music?’… It’s about finding people that have that innate knowledge and intuition, but the ability to talk with others about it.”

Buzzard’s, along with Stadium Video, were started by Campbell in a rather piecemeal fashion. Instead of going the usual route of taking out a large loan and opening up a store all at once, Campbell built it up, bit by bit, by selling CDs and records at swap meets. After making some money, he’d turn around and get even more records. And more and more, until he finally had enough to open a store.

“Buzzard’s was inside Stadium Video, and then I spun it off into its own location in ’96,” says Campbell. “Just one idea on top of the next, the next, the next. I just kept asking customers what they want, saying ‘We can add that.’”

It’s impressive that one person created two Tacoma institutions. Buzzard’s and Stadium Video have become integral parts of the landscape in this city, and they succeed not only because of the selection they offer, but because of that feeling we were talking about earlier.

Searching for the best new thing, talking with others who are searching for their own best new thing. This magical feeling is facilitated by an otherwise regular building in downtown Grit City.

1916 Jefferson Ave., Tacoma, 253.591.0183