A record store,  Melbourne, 1983

A garage, 2023

Five years ago I sold all my LPs and singles after a divorce. It was time to move on and modernise –  Spotify. Last year I was surprised to discover that my 21-year-old son had been buying vinyl, and even more so his latest purchase, Steely Dan’s album  Pretzel Logic, which took me back to 1983…

It was just after 9 a.m., a week out from Christmas. My best friend and I were on our weekly record hunt.  In my left pocket, I had songs asterisked from the current Top 40 singles chart, and in my right, a list of must-have older vinyl. Tony was rambling on about his 1966 mixtape. We turned into a laneway and our first stop – The Missing Link, in Flinders Lane. Steely Dan’s  Rikki, Don’t Lose That Number was blaring down the street, the singer pleading for the girl to give him a call. Metres from the shop we joined in, harmonising badly, rolling with the drummer and then, dual air-guitaring our way inside…

With such memories stirring recently, I decided to go into Popcultcha Records, for the first time in over twenty years. Inside, youngsters were holding up the classic albums and kept saying, “I reckon.” I smiled, remembering how many times I would have said that. I wandered over and started flicking through where the teenagers had been. A man around my age, slid in beside me, flipping through glam rock records.

“What are you into?” he asked.

I felt regret about my sold collection. “I’d buy half the music in here if I could.”

“Well,” he handed me an LP, “start here; it’s as good a place as any.”

Wow. I stared at the four hairy members of The Sweet and the track listings. I checked the year, 1974. It was the year of my Grade 6 Camp. We all had free time in the games room, and everyone was wearing Levi’s. There was a jukebox in the corner, and that girl, Michelle, put in 20 cents. The crackling needle called us together. We all screamed, “Fox On The Run!”

I got back home from Popcultcha and stared where my records used to be. I reminisced about my youth, Michelle, The Missing Link record store, my beautiful friend Tony, and Steely Dan. Then it dawned on me. The other song that I liked of theirs was Do It Again. That’s it. I’m back.

I transformed a quarter of the garage into a makeshift music room. I found posters of Bowie, Stevie Nicks, and Freddie—and got a record player, an old couch, a fake fur rug to cover some of the concrete and a bookshelf for purchases. Now for the records. That was a problem. Even if I had my whole life again I don’t think I could recoup what I had and secondly, the prices were insane. Here’s where I got lucky: I stumbled across two markets, each with three music stalls. The vinyl was second-hand, reasonably priced, and in good condition. I saw that Steely Dan record once, looked at it, held it for a minute, but put it back.

Every Friday, I alternate between the stalls, rushing home with about $30 worth of records. If I can, I play them around sunset and open the back garage door to an orange sky.

Stereo Story # 763

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The last few years I have taken up story writing in my spare time and love it - but still not as much as I love music and collecting records. I just really want to have some fun with my writing and hope a few people get some enjoyment out of it; that's enough for me. I live in Ocean Grove, on the Bellarine Coast in Victoria.