Why Record Store Day matters to me.

One of the great things about touring is meeting people and celebrating music. Nothing excites me more than seeing someone’s face light up about a record and knowing that I will probably do the same, about the same piece of music, to someone else, soon. It’s the ultimate hand me down, from generation to generation, from friend to friend. I love popping into a record shop, browsing the recommendations, chatting with the staff and getting excited about things I will soon love. Be it Resident or Davids, Spillers or Picadilly, 1up, Phonica, Rough Trade, Sound Knowledge or Rubadub, records in my collection are laden with stickers from across the Uk. Stickers that act as homing beacons to that moment of recommendation, the conversation and the music fan I encountered.

Two of the biggest influences on my musical journey are record shops. Puregroove and Banquet. Record stores are more than a place to buy music. They are the heartbeat of the musical community, we hang out there, we find out about gigs there, we make demo’s in the hope one day we can sell them there. The staff put on gigs and club nights, the 14 year old kid buying a green day record ends up djing at the punk night and packing up the mailorders. They support us as musicians and music lovers. They understand the physics of sourcing that ‘hard to find’ limited piece of music, but more importantly they understand the chemistry of why we love it. They too were the youngster digging through a stack of 12″s with a tenner and a free period, crouched over the hallowed 1210 in the corner, finally deemed responsible enough not to steal the needle or headphones. They are us and we are them.

On the last Get Cape. Tour, something sad happened. We knew we were coming to Manchester. The van was awash with space maximisation, it was Fat City day and the transit was about to get at least 180gsm heavier. It was rare to see me rolling out of a travelodge before 9am on a show day, the only bags bigger than the ones under my eyes, were the ones I was about to be carrying down Oldham Street. It had been awhile, but we were heading back with a vengeance. So here we were, at the top of the Northern Quarter, with a greater knowledge of our bank balances than we’ve had since we were 16, ready to go nuts. Nothing. Gone. The city had just gotten a little slimmer. Having received regular mailouts and bought music from them on mailorder, I frantically searched my emails to see where they had moved to, but alas the overheads and economics of modern music business did not check out. The passion and the knowledge lives on, but the place of Worship will soon be a Starbucks or if we’re lucky another Nandos.

Lets celebrate what we have. You won’t realise how much you miss it, until its gone. Happy Record Store Day everyone. Have fun!