Heart of a Punk - Soul of a Rasta

Bargain Hunt
or
Why it seems almost impossible nowadays to get a rare or elusive record on the cheap from a second hand or charity shop - no matter how hard you try

Downloads are fine if your musical taste is ever changing, not well developed or if you only like "once listened to immediately forgotten disposable pap" Fortunately or unfortunately I must own in totality all the music I listen to, and that means I need to have something physical that belongs to me, something tactile, something to roll a fag on, something to look at, something to read and most importantly something to cherish. Call me a retentive and in this instance I'll take it as a compliment. It's the same with books. I have been a library ticket holder for forty years and in that time I've taken home many venerable tomes believing that I will read them in the allotted time, and in the course of those forty years I have read from cover to cover exactly none of those borrowed books. Every book I've ever read, has been paid for, devoured, and then placed on a dusty shelf. Why? I've no idea. With the ever increasing lack of space in my house sometimes I wish that this wasn't the case. Very, very occasionally though I do actually grab a load of books, records, cassettes or CDs, which I've tricked myself into believing I no longer require, and take them into the nearest town where I lovingly lay them down (chuck) in the doorway of a charity shop. Once or twice I have also sent substandard items to the charity shop as well. OK I'm not proud of it! I can remember once sending a copy of The Bends by Radiohead to a charity shop because it jumped in the middle of first chorus of High and Dry. Well it was no longer any good to me, and perhaps there was someone out there who would like a jump (on the CD) in the middle of the first chorus of High and Dry. Anyway, they would have got the CD cheap wouldn't they! Well back in 1995 they certainly would have, but today can you get a decent cd or especially a rare vinyl record on the cheap from a second hand or charity shop? It's been a long time since I was able to get a bargain but now I'm going to actively pursue this goal. So what do I mean by cheap, I hear no one ask? Well cheaper than new, cheaper than download, and cheaper than Ebay. Not much to ask for surely. Let the challenge begin.

The Charity Shop
Via an invisible and unavoidable magnetic attraction I'm wrenched off the pavement and through the door of Oxfam Hereford, I proceed in a trance like state towards the four racks of vinyl but I'm forced to stop, there's already some old bloody duffer there having a good shufty. And he's obviously seen the original Time Machine movie starring Rod Taylor because apparently "he's got all the time in the world"; he seems to be moving in slow mo if not slower. So I hang back and pretend I'm actually not watching his every move. Distractedly I flick through a fixture full of ladies blouses. From where I'm standing I can see clearly every record cover he's fondling and he's fondling them in the way I want to fondling them, but it's oh so apparent that he is not as sensitive a fondler as I am, his fondling is a lecherous fondling, a only caring about his own needs kind of fondling, the dirty old vinyl hogging furtive fondling fool. Suddenly and unavoidably I cry out. Like a cry emitted in the middle of a bad dream, a totally incoherent shout containing no actual words. My outburst is due to the cover of a Peel Session being brought out into the white antiseptic light of the shop by the furtive fondler. The fondler moves his head Geko like in my direction. I keep my deep cover by quickly pulling out a hanger and holding a turquoise Terelene blouse up in front of my face. Thank God it was see-through because, bloody Norah it's a copy of "Stump's" Peel Session! I decide immediate action must be taken.
Quickly I take a pound coin out of my pocket and roll it across the laminated floor away from the racks of records. Nothing escapes the eye of this particular old vinyl fondling Geko. He takes the bait and moves away chasing the perambulating sovereign.

I seize the moment and pounce on the Peel Session like a Panther on its prey. Whipping the record out of the sleeve I hold it up to the light for closer inspection. OK please try to imagine the following:
I take the aforementioned 12" record out of its cover and out of its sleeve, I open Oxfam's door and launch it Frisbee like across Hereford Cathedral Close. Then I retrieve the record by dragging it beneath my left Monkey boot, scrapping it along the stone flags for two hundred yards or so (pausing momentarily to turn it over to make sure the damage is equal on both sides) and back to the shop. Can you imagine the condition of the record now? Then you can imagine the condition of the vinyl I was now holding up to the light in Oxfam Hereford. And the price was? £5.99! Five flipping ninety nine are they having a laugh, for this piece of shit that is totally un-bloody playable, £5.99 for a tatty coffee stained cardboard cover. Both my daughter and son tell me to "shush, you're talking out loud again Dad and everyone's looking at you" I look into their bright little faces and wonder how they got here. Then I remember they've been with me all the time, I told them we were going to see the Mappa Mundi. Well frankly, Oxfam have gone bonkers, are they getting their prices from Record Collector Monthly irrespective of condition? My daughter looks up at me and says "Dad try to remember all the money goes to helping people throughout the world less fortunate than us" Really what are they teaching these kids at school nowadays, I had to put her right. "There are certain personal fundamentals dear that transcend the importance placed on the living standards and basic human rights of other people throughout the world, and one of these personal fundamentals rights is the right of your Dad to be able to get a cheap record!" She had to be told. So the Stump Peel Session was close but no coconut.

The Antique Shop/Market
Vinyl has travelled a long way over the last few years. From the high street record shop to the specialist record shop to the second hand record shop to the car boot sale. Then miraculously back to the high street record shop (for a brief visit) then to the specialist record shop to the second hand record shop to the car boot sale and finally it has migrated and made its home in the dominion of the antique shop. How did that happen? Anyway I visited a couple of antique shops in Hereford but there was only Jim Reeves and Peggy Lee to be had. If I was going to get a bargain I needed to venture off the beaten track to a place where no one knows the true value of vinyl. That place had to be Kington.

Yes Kington! You know Kington. Kington, where something happened once, can't recall what, but it did. Kington birth place of people born in Kington, Kington gateway to the next nearest place up from Kington. You know where I mean, Kington. I can see the flicker of recognition in your eyes. Kington, that's right I'm glad you know it too. Straight to the Antique Shop on the High Street strangely called Kington Antiques. First off it looked very unpromising all I could find amongst the bric a brac was a small cardboard box of records on the floor. I knelt down to peruse its contents and as I did so I immediately felt a tap on my shoulder and heard a small but perfectly formed old Kingtonite say. "If you be wanting records young master, we've got plenty more in the back here" Now I've been caught out by this "in the back" routine before. Once in a pub in France I was ushered "in the back" and "in the back" turned out to be a 24 hr drugs den which I found myself unable to leave for quite a considerable amount of time (money). I also went "in the back" in a Tipton shop once but, no, back to the antique shop. I decided the owner's kindly face and diminutive frame meant I could trust stepping "in the back" with him. I stood on the threshold of "the back", he tugged impressively on a light pull, the strip light flickered on and then off, on and then off, on and then off, and then after the longest off of all, my new friend released the cord and the lights came on for good. The small room was brilliantly illuminated, a room cram packed to the gunnels with racks and racks of vinyl. Picture sleeved singles adorned one wall; LPs in plastic sleeves adored another. I was instantly aware of how Aladdin felt when he was lowered into the rob dogs cave. I started sifting in fact I sifted for what seemed like a couple hours but was in fact probably closer to three. My kids left my side to play on the major thoroughfare that is Kington High Street and when I finally left the shop they had gathered together a fine collection of tumble weed. But still my quest was incomplete because unfortunately, though the canny old boy in the shop was open to negotiation he was also astutely aware of the correct value of each item he was selling. So even though I'd had a fine old time amongst his cornucopia of delights the purchases I made were far from a bargain. I followed up this foray in Kington (which does have a musical claim, google it please, it would make me sick to convey it to you) with a similar antique rummage in the venerable town of Leominster.

Freecycle
Day one over, and it was as I predicted this bargain hunting thing was not going to be easy. I would give it one more throw of the dice but this time I would need to go further much further than before. "Want to go and look at the sea kids?" "Yeah!" Te He He they fell for it hook line and sinker. As Tom Waits once sang "Well I'm going out west, Where the wind blows tall, 'Cause Victor Spinetti used to date my ma" or something like that. Off west we went to where the Oggie is King, where the female leg is still appreciated, especially if it's attached to a sheep. Yes, you guessed it, off to where people still the openly urinate in public both male and female throughout the daytime - Aberystwyth.

First I took the kids to look at the sea (I'm not totally evil see). It gave me a chance to show them where I used to sleep when I came out to see bands at Aberystwyth University a million years ago (God knows I can still remember very vividly one wild wet withering wuthering February night spent here - bless the people who built these shelters). This done we set about the proper business of the day. Uncannily, in the Cancer Trust Shop I came across The Bends by Radiohead it was £3 so I snapped it up, but could you get it off Ebay for less than £3, I think, so again it was a nice try but no coconut.

Anyway, in the end it went down to the wire, the last shop of the day, the Freecycle Shop on platform 4 of Aberystwyth Station, apparently & coincidently this is where Tom Yorke works in between writing, recording and tours, but unfortunately the day was Wednesday which is Tom's day off, so I was unable to get him to sign my newly purchased Bends album. There were neither Radiohead albums nor bargains apparent here, I rifled through all the CD's and records, zip. But by the door was a shopping trolley filled to the top with cassettes, and a huge cardboard sign was taped to it proclaiming "ten cassettes for .50p". Now this was more like it. I knew Tom would have probably already sifted out the good stuff but surely there must be something in here, and it was now twilights last gleaming and I must have my bargain. Peggy Lee's greatest hits again, Acker Bilk "Auf Wiederseh'n Sweetheart", James Last, Barclay James Harvest, James, Jane's Addiction, Rod Jayne and Freddie, Freddie and the Dreamers, Freddie Mercury, Freddie Star Sings, Freddie Kruger Croons, Freddie Parrot Face Davis sings Johnny Cash, I dug deeper still and there nestling beneath the assorted musical horrors was Euroman Cometh the '79 solo concept album by Strangler Jean-Jacques Burnel. Those useless Knights of the Roundtable they never found the grail but I had.
With no wish or intention to select another nine cassettes for my full .50p's worth I presented myself at the till with my single purchase, but my kids were already there buying a Simpsons Video also for .50p. Because of this my proffered .50p was dismissed by the assistant and I was able to leave the shop with a completely free copy of Euroman Cometh by JJ Burnel. Now the fact that I bought Euroman Cometh on ordinary black vinyl the day it came out, I also have a picture disc copy, I already have it on cassette, and also on CD is not of the slightest relevance. I had my bargain!

We returned to the car, a satisfactory day's work behind us, I shoved my newly acquired copy of the Bends into the CD player. F**k me it had a jump on it, on the first chorus of "High & Dry"! Thirteen years later it had found its way back to me. As some bald St Georges Hospital trained Doctor once said "What are the chances of that happening?"