A Vinyl Junkie's Sundrenched Dream

Inspiration
I've been having a little browse around the blogosphere today (yeuch, terrible word, who thought that up?) and happened upon fellow culture vulture contributor Ben Denison's Good Arrows, who does lots of inspiring creative stuff with Leeds' Hope and Social. This ties in nicely with some things I've been wanting to say about Record Store Day, for which I was queueing yesterday at the ungodly hour of 7.40am, outside Crash Records in Leeds, to buy VINYL. In 2010. And I don't even have a record player.

Record Store Day Queue - Leeds - 8am

Let me start at the beginning...
I've long loved packaging of music and its presentation - the more quirky or unusual the better. We never really had music on in the house when I was growing up - Terry Wogan over marmite on toast was about as avant-garde as it got. My mum didn't like my dad playing anything more risque (Ian Dury and Led Zep are all I remember) with us youngsters around, and Top of the Pops was banned for the same reason. I even remember covering my ears and crying when a 60s party compilation cassette was on in the car once - the music wasn't the sort of stuff Wogan played and I wasn't used to it; I didn't know how to react (I was only 7 in my defence). But I do remember poring over the inlay, and the brightly coloured drawings of the hip and groovy Austin Powers style scenesters partying on the front. And thinking wow. I can't stop looking at this.


I've never bought my own records (aside from a couple of awful 7"s that I demanded to be allowed, when 7"s were all anyone bought), and then when my dad moved out and took the record player with him, it was cassettes all the way. Not really getting out much when I was a teenager meant my life revolved around the radio and the cassettes I (sometimes) bought or (more usually) borrowed & copied from the library or my friends (yes kids, this was how we used to do illegal filesharing). 

Old-skool cassettes: side Ride

My choice of tapes was undoubtedly pretty pedestrian but I loved the artwork and attention to detail. Like a lot of people, I'd sit and listen to my new acquisition, staring at the packaging throughout the whole album - opening it, looking at the pictures, folding it back again, opening it up slowly, turning it round, trying to compute what the band wanted to convey. Had the artist made the words flow around the pictures? Were there any quirky details? (Side Drive / side Ride and trumpet silhouettes on the run-in were two of my favourites). This is something that's engaging, and priceless even, about physical format music. You get none of this inclusivity or visual connection with mp3s, and sadly, a lot of this is being lost from commercial CD packaging too, to keep design and printing costs down and maximise profit - necessarily so in the on-demand culture. Naughty mp3s.


So it's 2010, and I'm queueing to buy a cassette..
This brings me to Record Store Day (see my previous blog for culture vulture). There were two releases I really really wanted: firstly the new Blur 7", and secondly the new limited-to-300-worldwide Goldfrapp cassette. 

Goldfrapp- Head First (cassette release)

Mother Vulpine - Keep Your Wits Sharp (her words are quick) (mint green vinyl release)

Now I didn't think I'd have to fight for my Goldfrapp (sadly) but I knew that Blur would be a different kettle of fish - I'd never been shopping that early in my life. Fortunately the morning was sunny and my fellow queuers were in amiable mood, and I tried not to think about the facts that I was 34th in the queue and that Crash had only 25 copies of the Blur record on order. 

1st choices of the first 31 people in the Crash RSD queue / I'm 34th!

But what else would I get? I have been known to buy vinyl before, if I love the band and the artwork, despite not having the facilities to play it in my own home (I do have friends who do I hasten to add). My prized mint green vinyl Mother Vulpine 7" is a case in point. Some of the RSD releases were really special, and the effort gone into the artwork on the majority of items was stunning, even the simple stuff. 

Queue buddies

My queue-buddy for the morning (hi Jonny!), who turned out the be a graphic designer, also often buys vinyl on the strength of the artwork or presentation. People don't tend to release on vinyl these days unless they're really passionate about their art, because they understand what I've long believed, and what Ben Denison explains better than I ever could: that the end result of creating according to your own art is more inspiring, joyous and desirable than anything produced with commercial goals in sight. 

You may - or may not - like to know that I plumped for Crystal Castles in the end, with cover art that reminded me of how 12"s USED to be - those illicit LPs in my dad's collection with just an atmospherically yellowed photo covering the front; the only text on the 288 square inches of the whole cover being boldly and simply on 6 lines on the back, just white on black. Speaks so many volumes, and differently to everyone who sees it.

Crystal Castles / Doe Deer 12"

Getting physical (Ha. Sorry..)
So unexpectedly, my Record Store Day experience has reminded me of things I'd long forgotten about physical format music, and in particular, vinyl. The cameraderie in the queue; the genuine and good natured excitement about what we would get to rummage through; hopefully take home, look at, hold, listen to, share, enjoy, and look at some more. My friend's reaction when I gave him the Mogwai/F*** Buttons white vinyl 10" split I'd bought him. My other friends' reactions when I showed off my haul. 

Mogwai/F*** Buttons 10" split on white vinyl

The last time I felt that was when I was swapping homemade tapes with my schoolmates when I was 15. But this is grown-up, and much much prettier. 


I'm off to borrow some separates.