“I’M TAKING MY RECORDS TO THE TIP…”

Dickie Felton 25 March 2022

Twenty-years-ago Mark arrived at my front door with a car full of clutter.

“I’m on my way to the tip. I’m chucking all my records. Do you want them before I dump’em?”

There were around 70 vinyl albums and as many 7 and 12 inch singles.

Hand on chin, I dithered for a few seconds…

Had he lost his mind? How could anyone lash long-players to landfill?

And could I become a foster parent to someone else’s record collection?

Mark: “I haven’t got room anymore. Do you want them or not?”

I asked if I could I have a quick sift-through and take the ones I fancied.

“I don’t suppose you have anything by The Smiths?”

“Dickie – I haven’t got time for this. Either take them all or none at all.”

Five seconds later I was lugging several cardboard boxes from the boot of his car before he sped off towards Sefton Meadows Household Waste Recycling Centre.

I didn’t particularly have room for his stash of sounds either. But I couldn’t bear to see tracks turned to trash.

I wondered what had prompted Mark’s sudden appetite for destruction.

Initially I blamed an American lady called Ann Maurice (pronounced Moor-eese). She was the star of a popular TV programme at the time called ‘The House Doctor’.

Each week the Californian real-estate stylist would help UK home-owners sell their houses with industry know-how and style tips.

Her advice to a generation of hoarders was to chuck everything you owned and paint every wall cream.

I wondered if Mark had taken this advice a bit too literally?

This was 2002 and vinyl was not the hot-property it is today. I guess other people were making similar trips to the tip.

In the mid 1980s CDs had risen in popularity. Vinyl was disappearing from shops.

It seemed everyone wanted to downsize and CD was the medium of choice.

Two decades ago as I rifled through Mark’s cast-offs at super speed, I found gems at every flick.

I was delighted to uncover albums by The Smiths and blown away to discover a 12 inch of ‘Panic’ complete with Hang the DJ stickers.

Mark had two older brothers and he’d inherited their albums. So Mark’s stash spanned almost 13 years from 1978 to 1991.

The was ska, rock, indie and pop. All sat alongside a selection of obscure picture discs of scantily clad female artists who I’d never heard of.

In the years that followed, Mark’s vinyl provided my musical education.

Thanks to him so many bands and styles of music entered my life: The Undertones, Dexys Midnight Runners and ABC.

There were classics from Bruce Springsteen, David Bowie, Prince and a superb collection of Liverpool music ranging from OMD & Echo and The Bunnymen to Frankie Goes To Hollywood.

There were several albums and 12 inches by The Christians. I got to listen to every conceivable version of their ‘Ideal World’ hit.

These are the kinds of mixes you only get on the original vinyl. You won’t find them on today’s streaming platforms.

There were a few political albums in there like Irish singer Sean Brady’s wonderful ‘The Thatcher Song’. Oh, and some outrageous junk. His Gary Glitter stuff remains unplayed to this day.

In the first few years with Mark’s collection I stuck to what I knew, selecting the bands I liked.

The Housemartins 12 inch ‘Build’ became one of my favourite records of all time.

But it was the discovery of its weirdly wonderful b-side ‘Paris in Flares’ that made my life complete the moment I heard it.

As the years went by my Friday nights would generally become ‘vinyl night’. I’d dust off a couple of Mark’s records and give them a spin.

There were revelations. I was quite awestruck the first time I played Frankie Goes to Hollywood’s ‘Welcome to the Pleasuredome’. I then found myself hopelessly addicted to Tin Machine featuring David Bowie despite everyone telling me it was a poor record.

The collection shone a cute insight into Mark and his brothers’ past lives with a few records containing written messages from girlfriends. “To Bill from your honey pie…” was written in blue biro on one sleeve.

Despite two decades of playing Mark’s records I never felt I actually owned them.

I always thought I was ‘minding’ Mark’s collection. It always sat on a separate shelf to my own records.

My music was from a slightly different, and later, era. I was all about Morrissey solo, Brit-pop, The Cure, REM, The Sundays, Gene.

I didn’t like the thought of his records, despite how fantastic they were, infiltrating themselves into my own personal collection. When I had people round to the house I didn’t make out that I’d been buying David Bowie singles when I was aged seven…

I left Liverpool in 2016 to move to Cumbria, but I’d lost touch with Mark a long time before that anyway.

Until last month. I received a text message out of the blue:

“Dickie is that you? I don’t suppose you still have my record collection?”

I nearly dropped my phone and laughed out loud.

Here he was, after two decades, attempting to get his record collection back!

“Ah, Mark. I’ve been waiting for this day,” I replied.

When I returned to Merseyside to watch Liverpool play Norwich I took a detour to Mark’s and gave him all his records back.

It was a lovely moment where his collection had gone full circle, and come home.

Not that Mark is desperate to spin all his vinyl again – he’s actually going to gift his collection to someone else who is starting to discover music.

And I can’t think of a better place. Someone else can experience the joy of discovery just like I did.

Records really are magical things.

Music holds emotion, memory and opens minds to possibilities. But it’s often the physical vinyl that holds the key to so much more.

I say I returned Mark’s collection…

All but a couple of The Smiths records which mysteriously did find their way onto my shelf. And they’ll stay in my possession forever…