Back to some records that I did find on our Deep South trip.
Our next stop was French Camp, slap bang in the middle of nowhere. I wasn't expecting any record digging opportunities, but in a roundabout way it turned out I was wrong.
Soon after leaving Muscle Shoals and heading back east we took a left and picked up the Natchez Trace Parkway. I had read about it in a Sunday Times article years ago (and had kept the article) and I guess it was then that my bucket list, such that it is, first came into being and, mentally, "driving the Natchez Trace Parkway" became the first entry. So, all these years later, here we were. Serene and empty sums it up I think. Fantastic scenery, which actually can get a little samey after a while, so we would dive off every now and again and try and find some small towns. The roads immediately off the Parkway we found to be extremely quiet too, no Interstates (we hardly hit a big Interstate in the entire trip) but some sizeable roads. It was almost surreal driving down a highway the size of a UK motorway, except bigger because of the enormously wide central reservation, that is almost deserted.
Anyway we stopped at French Camp for the night, a tiny town that is essentially dry, and we respected the advice to not take any alcohol onto the premises of our B&B. The next morning we happened to have an extremely serendipitous conversation with another couple at the breakfast table. They were interested in our trip and I mentioned that I was keeping an eye out for records along the way (cue Mrs Darce rolling her eyes). The guy said he knew a place in the middle of nowhere further south in Mississippi that was full of records and showed me where on his phone. My heart started beating faster. What were the chances? - it was literally on the way to the next stop on our journey, Vicksburg.
So it was, later that day, we ended up in Raymond MS. Just across the road from the record store we first of all found a lovely little book/nick nack/coffee shop which was perfect for Mrs Darce to while away the time, and I then hot footed it over to The Little Big Store.
I walked through the door and my heartbeat ticked up a few notches - it was indeed full of records, including plenty of 45s which I had decided to limit myself to on this trip. I thought: serendipity sent me here, it's off the beaten track, it's full of records, I'm going to fill my boots! So I dug, and I dug, and I frantically dug. But unfortunately I only found two 45s worth buying. When paying for them (nothing was priced so I didn't know what to expect, but I needn't have worried) I had a chat with the owner, who was lovely but whose name I now can't remember, and she let me have a free tote bag with the shop's name on it which I was really chuffed with. She admitted that the place was a bit picked over now, but only in the last five years or so. It seems it has become very popular with people travelling the Blues trail. So, I was only a few years late in finding this place. One can only wonder at was once there. Imagine if we had made this trip six years ago instead of doing the New England road trip? Stop it. She did say there were lots more records upstairs still unsorted though....
Fenton Robinson - Leave You In The Arms Of Your Other Man 1970
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