Most strikingly of all, there was no conversation—the dozen or so customers, men and women of varying ages and attire, each sat silently, some reading, some sleeping, some swaying in slow rapture in time with the music. Other than the dramatic notes of Bach's organ piece, the room was utterly silent. I had the impression that whatever dust had collected here on the curves of the dark wooden pillars and among the stacks of hundreds of albums had lain undisturbed for decades.