Editor’s letter

What does a record shop mean to you? Something that was on every high street, but which no longer exists? A place to nab rare vinyl? A building with a friendly (but long-suffering) proprietor and a clientele that hangs out all day without spending anything? How about a place that supports other businesses?

I wandered into the post office in Holt, North Norfolk, earlier this month. The customers seeking stamps and holding parcels were greeted by the sounds of reggae and rock’n’roll. All around them there were racks full of second-hand – and desirable – vinyl.

Clearly it is a country town, because the good people of Holt politely waited while I bent the ear of the postmaster about what an amazing sight his premises made. He could have filled his available space with parcel tape, padded bags or cheap toys, but as a record man through and through, he chose to support the main business with albums. I’ve seen this elsewhere, with Wood Street Market in Walthamstow, London, virtually relying on its still-excellent record dealers until the local authority began subsidising arts and crafts workers in empty units. Record shops were long considered a dying trade – now they are keeping other businesses going. And with the one in Holt being a vital lifeline for the community, the post office, that’s something we should all be grateful for.

Thank you for the great response to issue 400 – there will be more letters about it in 402. Meanwhile, here’s 401, with a Beatles rarity fully explained at last; the tortuous tale of the Cockney Rejects by way of contrast; Eloy; and the great Buffy St Marie talks to us. We have a word with Madness, speak to Deep RC?

by Ian McCann
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