Record shops became a place of fascination almost as soon as I started collecting records. Chain stores were a functional place to buy records, but I was immediately drawn to independent shops, where you could establish a personal rapport with the employees, who were just as fanatical about music as you. I started hanging around in record shops in my mid teens. Shops were a very important source of information about music, especially new music. Before the internet, or even as people migrated online slowly, the main resources of information about music were radio, magazines and record shops. There were clubs and live gigs too, but in the early years I was too young to attend most venues. Later, I realised that clubs and gigs were decidedly hit and miss as sources of information about new music.
Once I had been bitten by the vinyl bug, all I wanted to do was to hang out in record shops. I was fortunate to have a shop in my hometown that specialised in pretty much all forms of electronic music. They sold everything from Ambient to Techno. One of the guys that worked in the shop, Herbie Saccani, was really encouraging to young record buyers like myself. Later, Herbie started his own shop called Quadrastate (named after the 808 State album) and I would spend hours there, digging through the racks and listening to all types of music. He also encouraged me to write about the records they had in store, which was how I started writing about music. Herbie had been a young DJ himself, playing at Factory’s Dry Bar in Manchester aged 16. I think this is why he was so patient with young music fans such as myself. In this shop, I met DJs, record collectors and learned a lot about music and nightlife culture. At the time, the record shop really felt like a portal into a different world. I became an unofficial third employee of Quadrastate Records. I did my work experience at college there and wrote for their website. I discovered so much about music from just listening to the records and receiving recommendations from Herbie and other customers.
After university, I got a job at one of Manchester’s best independent record shops. I worked at this shop during the mid 00s, when the industry was in flux and the bottom fell out of the physical music market. Distributors, record labels and record shops dropped like flies. It was a weird time to be interested in vinyl, whilst the world was excited about iTunes and downloads. At the same time, Manchester has always had a strong music culture and people into vinyl were still buying records in the city. Manchester had a lot of great record shops (and still does). Whilst working at one shop, I would spend my lunch hours digging in other shops. It was not until years later that I realised just how good the shops in Manchester had been. I interviewed Christoffer Berg of Hird fame and he told me how excited he had been during a trip to Japan, where he went to a new shop and bought a Theo Parrish record on the day of its release. I was impressed by record shops when I went to Japan for their depth of stock, but less so when it came to new releases. In Manchester, you could always buy a new Theo Parrish record on release day.
In the shop where I worked, new Theo Parrish records sold very well. I found it fascinating to observe generally what sold well and what didn’t. Some records sold hundreds of copies and some sold next to nothing. Sometimes what sold well in the shop made sense to my ears and other times it didn’t. A case in point being this beautiful Jessica Bailiff 7”. This ‘coke bottle green’ vinyl EP featuring four live radio recordings seemed wonderful to my ears. I was especially enamoured with the haunting second track on the A side, Beautiful Soul. The record buying public of Manchester didn’t seem to agree. The record sat in the racks for a long while, before being put into the sale at a cheap price. I bought every copy of the record and gave it away as a present to friends. I still find the record very appealing today. My renewed interest in DIY and experimental music over the last few years brought me back to Brainwashed and Bailiff’s co-conspirators, such as Annelies Monseré of Luster fame. This 7” still appears to be an undiscovered gem. At the time of writing, there is a single copy on discogs…
Freer Sounds 
You must be logged in to post a comment.