Due to regrettable time, space, and IQ restraints, several record stores were left on the cutting bathroom floor of the Back to School issue a couple weeks ago. Here are three in our lovely neighborhood that should have been mentioned:

Everyday Music (Capitol Hill): I would not know as much as I know about music (which is admittedly not very much) without Everyday Music. More accepting of well-used media than other retail establishments, EM is an excellent place to get a legal education in popular music. Need a roughed-up copy of the Fall's This Nation's Saving Grace? EM is more likely to have it for cheap. Thing is, computers these days can usually read even the most abused discs—then it's on your hard drive for good. But once you get past the need for a used copy of Lyricist Lounge: Volume One, you'll find a well-stocked selection of both CDs and vinyl, and a genuinely friendly staff.

Wall of Sound (Capitol Hill): "You may not always find the thing you want, but often you're going to find something you want or maybe you didn't even know you wanted," co-owner Jeffery Taylor told staff music writer Dave Segal for an article about Wall of Sound's 20th anniversary. Taylor and co-owner Michael Ohlenroth expertly collect lesser-known sounds from all over the world, and they're likely to know something about everything in the store. Go there with an open mind and leave with something excellent.

Spin Cycle (Capitol Hill): Spin Cycle is a newcomer to the game of music retail, but it's lean and mean. Owner Jason Grimes often goes out to people's collections to purchase vinyl (they don't buy used CDs), and they have a smokin' tape collection. Also, not only do they carry Harry Potter stuff, they have an employee who looks like a disgruntled Harry Potter and wears a mechanic's suit. Bonus: His real name is Danny Noonan!

Addendum to the addendum: In the same issue, I erroneously reported that Bop Street Records in Ballard is "a giant cavern of mostly used vinyl. Let someone know where you are going and when you should be back, because you could get lost in the basement." Unbeknownst to me, BSR relocated since I'd last visited—they're still in Ballard, but now on Market Street—and they no longer have a basement. This produced some rather heated reader feedback. I regret the error. Now let us never speak of it again.