56

IN WHICH… I REALISE – I’M ‘RECORD GUY’

For decades I have been in search of the perfect club sandwich. I have kept records of where and when I ate a contender for the honour. The front runner for many years had been the one purchased from the hotel around the corner from Prague’s Wenceslas Square. It fought off opposition from various contenders all over the world, largely, but not entirely because it was consumed in a lounge area frequented by many of the most beautiful ladies of the Czech capital. I am sure that their presence was entirely unconnected to the fact that the hotel brochure contained large advertisements for escort services.

Attending London’s Spitalfields Market record fair in October 2018, I had purchased for £30 an original Wild Turkey LP, one of the short-lived Jethro Tull spin-off group’s albums, but I wasn’t expecting that the decision to break for a glass of wine and a snack would result in a new leader in the ‘club sandwich competition’. But, out of nowhere, Spitalfields’ The Grocer, describing itself as a ‘Market Tavern’, leapfrogged the Prague leader with an absolutely delicious combination of sourdough bread and succulent chicken with the requisite accompanying fillings.

My fellow crate-digger Mike H had alerted me to the fact that a friend of his was desperate to acquire a copy of Peter Frampton’s fourth album. ‘It has a photo of him with some sort of mark or mask on his face.’ I had a look around to see whether I could find a copy, but none appeared.

On the way home from this otherwise satisfactory journey – both from a foodie and vinylie point of view – I caught the bus. A couple of stops away from my alighting point I saw ‘Book Man’ in the bus shelter. For years this gent in, I’d guess, late middle age has been appearing, come rain or shine, at a variety of stops along various routes I use. Always standing, always clutching and apparently reading a thick book. Not always the same one. Never speaking to anyone. And certainly never getting on a bus. My sons and I dubbed him ‘Book Man’ and report sightings of him to each other. He was looking relaxed today, a warm one, respectably turned out in trendy shirt and what I believe are known as ‘slacks’. Neither troubling, nor engaging with anyone. A small enigma. I suddenly had an alarming thought. Did he ever reflect on ‘Record Guy’, the elderly, unshaven, often scruffily dressed fellow he’d frequently see on the H14 or H12s stopping at the bus shelters where he reads? Always clutching a bag containing what could only be an old-fashioned LP, never getting off the bus, neither talking to, nor engaging with, anyone. Looking, well, like some kind of out-of-time weirdo.

A couple of days later, having taken my car in for its MOT, I realised I was close enough to pay a visit to Revolution Records shop in Stevenage’s ‘Old Town’, to which I had never been. I was drawn to it after reading two almost directly contradictory opinions expressed on the shop’s Facebook page. One visitor declared: ‘Cold coffee served by lovely lady. Not even a token apologie (sic) after mentioning it.’ This was followed by another viewpoint: ‘Chilled coffee shop – browse, buy or just listen to great vinyl. Lovely place.’

While I was there no one availed themselves of the coffee option. When I walked in, it was to hear a couple of gents of mature years discussing with the counter guy various Who-related matters. One was telling the others that Roger Daltrey had been unable to find anyone whose drum-playing ability would enable them to play the role of Keith Moon in a film – to, I would imagine, absolutely no one’s surprise.

I liked the way the floor of the record section is covered underfoot in vinyl records. Another chap came in looking for any record at all from 1988 which would be appropriate for a friend’s celebration – birthday, wedding anniversary, I didn’t quite catch which. He looked at every record in the place then with a sunny ‘cheerio’, departed, recordless. A different customer made a purchase, then spent several minutes deciding whether to take a receipt for the record he’d bought. Then there were just myself and the counter guy in there. He was playing a Tom Petty track, and ventured: ‘He’ll certainly be missed’.

I agreed and mentioned the recently announced death of Jefferson Airplane main man, Marty Balin. Then he chucked in the name of Charles Aznavour, also just departed. I said I thought he may have been slightly under-rated because of his nationality, but he pointed out that he had sold countless millions of records. We then discussed how death did not seem to diminish the appeal of the groups in which some of the now departed had built their reputations. He observed that ‘The Troggs seem to be touring with no original members at all’, to which I noted that the same is true of Dr Feelgood. Whether Dave will ever reappear since the sad death of partner Chas in 2018, I doubt.

I complimented his selection of records on offer. Very varied, some seldom seen titles, plenty of different genres and overall extremely competitively priced.

‘We used to operate out of a different site in the town, but when we moved here, I decided to overhaul the buying policy and aim for higher quality and being more selective, cutting down on the type of titles which may make up the bulk of other shops’ stock. I became much more choosey.’

I ended up buying a new reissue LP by the group Fynn McCool, (£9.99) and went close to adding a Lesley Duncan LP for a tenner. Others nearly made the cut – Wishbone Ash and Sonny Boy Williamson, to mention just two – but there was no sign of the sought-after Peter Frampton LP. With free local parking another plus, the day had gone well and when I arrived home, it was to discover another message from my friend Mike H. ‘That Peter Frampton LP – turns out he meant Peter Gabriel – and he’s just told me that he’s found it in his collection – so he doesn’t need it, after all!’

Mike was exasperated, but I just felt peeved…