“If you wanted a tune, you had to buy a record.”
Sound System Culture, Jamaica & UK, 1986-88, Wayne Tippotts ©
My dad was the first pillar in my musical journey, listening to his old CDs, and finding out about a new sound system instilled in the house. The man was obsessed with quality and constant refinery. “Turn that shit off. Let’s hear some Kenny G.” His brutal opinions inspired a criticalness within me, a desire to dismiss the bad in search of the great. Growing up hearing soul, funk, smooth jazz, reggae and R&B, I became exposed to the world of beautiful basslines, majestic melodies and robust rhythms. He was very busy when I was growing up so I had to really exploit the time I could get with him. I learnt so much from him, his off-the-cuff references sent me down many rabbit holes. “If you like that, what you need to hear is Anita Baker.” (Her album Compositions is currently my favourite in my collection). I became so keen to impress that eventually, I started researching to propel our conversations onto higher plains. That curiosity is what inspires my music hunting to this very day.
Record Label Fair at Coal Drops Yard, King’s Cross
When I turned 21, he blessed me with two turntables. Having heard I’d taken a recent interest in DJing digitally, he put me on the path to material music. This investment has proved to be the best pass played in my sonar story so far. Having dropped out of Kingston Poly to work in a hi-fi shop with his cousins, it seems he has always been surrounded by the material side of music. He used to own a room full of vinyl but converted it to CDs and then eventually a digital-only collection. He says he wishes he kept all his vinyl but was simply running out of space to house them. I guess his gift was his way of saying, “Now it’s your turn to create a room full of vinyl”. I was lost for words at first, it seemed like such a mountain to climb rather than a hill, but my passion drove me, and I began my quest into the realm of records.
Vinyl in its appearance is an ominous disc. You can hold it in your hands and admire it. You can put a needle on it, and it will sing to you. Its sonic waves sift into the atmosphere and flutter into your ears. The music rushes through your bones like an electric pulse. Resonating at a high frequency which glows within the soul. Its tangibility binds us to it as we become captivated by our own curation.
To me, putting on a vinyl is more than just listening to music. It cannot be compared to digital. It’s like rolling a cigarette, the process is more addictive than the actual action. Looking through a crate and deciding your self-prescription. Observing the art on the sleeve and flipping it over to inspect its story like it’s the first time, every time. Choosing a track and finding the groove or bringing it back old-school style and listening the full way through. The contained excitement boiling under your skin rises as you try to maintain your expert composure, waiting for the crackle. Tensions remain high until the crackle stops and that first note kicks. Your whole body drops and your face winces to the glorious sound, serenaded by your selection.
Records by Local Artists
The mysterious power of these discs and their timelessness led me to embark on a quest to understand their value to DJs, artists, listeners and culture vultures. These spinning circles are opaque yet show my reflection when I look at them. It sucks me into its world like a vacuum with a magnet for passion and discovery. It spurs a two-way relationship between an explorer and ecstasy. The sound is the treasure, the rhythm is the addiction.
Digging at Dash the Henge, Peckham
London is home to numerous infamous record stores which both retain musical histories and aid the survival of vinyl. Greenwich’s branch of the Music & Video Exchange is a pillar of South London’s vinyl scene, housing musical bartering since it opened its doors in 2000. Funky fresh Manager Jamie offered his wisdom in an interview. We spoke in the bargain basement by the desk surrounded by records and CDs, leaving just enough space to stand and for him to finish his lunch.
Fresh Finds in the Bargain Basement at the Music & Video Exchange, Greenwich
Vinyl became essential to music lovers, as the only way to listen to music before the CD boom which became the “dominant format” in the 2000s. “If you wanted a tune, you had to buy a record.” He claims, “None of us are rational, especially when it comes to buying records” so for “every 100 records you sell, there’s 100 reasons why someone is buying it.” Diggers dig the crates for rare and raw sounds. Their bargain basement is a dream for hunter-gatherers looking for “rare gold or what they think will become gold” costing as cheap as 50p or a quid. Maybe we can’t answer why it has such a hold on us. Maybe we should grab what’s there before it’s gone. What isn’t thrilling about owning something that doesn’t exist in the world of another crate digger?
Flicking through New Arrivals
The Crates in Peckham Soul
So I urge you if you haven’t already listened to or gone looking for vinyl, to get digging and see how vinyl affects the way you listen to the music you love.