Nathan Weinbender

I have too many records. Most vinyl aficionados will probably tell you such a concept doesn’t exist, but when albums start stacking up precariously due to lack of shelf space, you’ve got a problem. That doesn’t stop me, however, from picking up a copy of a favorite album if the price is right, which becomes a dangerous proposition when a particular record store’s selection is top notch. That’s why Record Store Day is a godsend for analog junkies: It’s a great excuse to shell out more dough for wax (including some limited edition special releases), all of which supports local businesses.

With all of the changes happening on the 400 block of West Main Avenue, Rick Singer Photography remains in the same location it’s occupied for 33 years. For the past decade or so, the studio has served double duty as a live music venue, and it’s the kind of space that imitates the loose but comfortable vibe of a spontaneous jam session in someone’s living room. A show in Singer’s studio, however, is going to sound superior to one in your average parlor. He sets up the bands in his cyclorama, a concaved wall that’s typically used as a photographic backdrop but also functions as a makeshift stage in the corner of his studio. “What’s nice is that my studio has more room, and with this cyclorama, it’s a natural acoustical band shell,” Singer said. “It makes the instruments sound great, and the musicians love playing here.”

In all of 19th-century French literature, Alexandre Dumas’ 1844 novel “The Three Musketeers” might be the most frequently imitated, referenced and translated. Cinematic and theatrical adaptations have been produced since the early 1900s, and more people are familiar with the Musketeers’ “all for one, one for all” motto than have actually read Dumas’ original text. Athos, Porthos, Aramis and d’Artagnan remain indelible literary figures, larger-than-life symbols of adventure, rebellion and liberty. Ken Ludwig’s stage adaptation of “The Three Musketeers,” which was originally commissioned by Britain’s Bristol Old Vic theater company in 2006, is a solid introduction to anyone unfamiliar with the content of Dumas’ novel, especially for younger viewers. He’s an expert at converting famous literary properties into goofy, easily digestible entertainments: He also turned Mark Twain’s “The Adventures of Tom Sawyer” into a crowd-pleasing musical, and Spokane’s Civic Theatre produced his version of “Treasure Island” last year.

There’s an old story about the first time Beach Boys mastermind Brian Wilson heard the Phil Spector-produced classic “Be My Baby.” He was reportedly driving around when the song came over his radio, and he had to pull the car over because he was so in awe of it. Lyrically and thematically, “Be My Baby” is one of the simplest songs imaginable, but with the way it’s been recorded and performed it becomes almost anthemic. That song, and Wilson’s obsession with it, neatly encapsulates ’60s pop as a whole: It was an era when emotions ran high, melodies were sugar-coated, every love was everlasting and every heartbreak irreversible, and it might have been the last time that mainstream radio was as consistently accessible as it was transcendent.