Musical Chairs

#44 Counter Culture

For those old enough to remember the 1970s TV show Mr Benn, a great record shop is our 52, Festive Road experience - you go in one thing and emerge slightly changed.

If you've never seen the programme, the eponymous character is a suit-clad, bowler hat wearing suburban Londoner who visits a fancy-dress costume shop on Festive Road - in each episode he enters the changing room, sheds his traditional clothes and emerges through a magic door in a new outfit and a new adventure as a spaceman, a knight, a zoo keeper or other exotic occupation. Following his experience, Mr Benn reappears in the changing room before returning to his normal life with a souvenir of his adventure.

This is exactly what happens when you walk into a record shop where the staff love music at least as much as you do. You may well walk out with what you intended to buy but the chances are you'll walk out with much more besides. A great conversation, a gold-plated recommendation, maybe even a new favourite band.

A record shop is a place of escape, a place of relaxation (though maybe not for your wallet!) and a place of friendship. But it's a place of education too - somewhere we go to develop and nurture our passion with like-minded souls. We've all discovered treasured songs and vital bands in these small churches and great cathedrals of music - in my case, I was introduced to U.S. Girls, Wipers and a particularly outrageous King Gizzard album (Murder of the Universe) by record shop staff or lurking customers.

A conversation can change the dynamic too - on one occasion, a tentative enquiry about a new Felt reissue transformed a hitherto impermeable brick wall into a long-lost confidante eager to discuss the finer points of the cult band's back catalogue. That's the power of a shared passion.

In the sleeve notes to the recent Rough Trade compilation 'Behind the Counter with Ian Rankin', the author - who grew up in rural east Scotland - says this about his favourite childhood record shop: "It was called Bruce's and the bright red carrier bag was like a beacon to fellow travellers that you knew your stuff".

We all had our own version of this in our formative years. For me, it was Graffiti Records and Music Mania and that thrill, that shiver, that beautiful moment of discovery remains undimmed by the passage of time.

Sadly, both shops are long gone, but the likes of Stranger Than Paradise (London), Monorail Music (Glasgow), Piccadilly Records (Manchester), Drift Records (Totnes) and Resident Music (Brighton) remain proud keepers of the flame. So, here's to the record shops that open their doors and open our minds every day. To borrow Rankin's well-chosen word, they are beacons in dark times.