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Derek Pearson

The Hunt For Vinyl - Digging Old Fashioned Style

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Dust, pigeon shit and tons of old records.

 

This wasn't LA or even Detroit.

 

Beginning of this week just over 10 miles from my house.

 

Can you dig it?

 

Derek

 

 

 

But did you find anything worth having ?

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Dust, pigeon shit and tons of old records.

 

This wasn't LA or even Detroit.

 

Beginning of this week just over 10 miles from my house.

 

Can you dig it?

 

Derek

 

What's the back story please.

 

Are these old retail units or something else?

 

How come left in that derelict state?.

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thought it was Rob Smith's the way the vinyl was stacked :):ohmy:

  

sorry Rob couldn't resist ....obviously the pigeon shit reference above doesn't apply

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Hi Derek , I too have been out digging, I only managed to find three worms,  a rusty old can, and some old animal bones (all in my back garden). LOL. jez.

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thought it was Rob Smith's the way the vinyl was stacked :):ohmy:

  

sorry Rob couldn't resist ....obviously the pigeon shit reference above doesn't apply

I think it does.

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Hi Derek , I too have been out digging, I only managed to find three worms,  a rusty old can, and some old animal bones (all in my back garden). LOL. jez.

Was out digging myself ...of a fashion ...with my trusty metal detector .............dug 400 holes for nowt ...before i realised i had my toe-tectors on !!!!

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No matter where you live in this big world most record collectors aka hounds will recognise these 2 scenarios straight away - the first involves getting a lead on some records (potentially of interest) where you do all the right things at the right time sometimes over a period of several weeks even months which somehow just sorta fizzles out and the trail goes cold without even the merest sighting way off in the distance of a solitary album mailer.

 

Yet as more mates get to hear the story as each day passes the number of records involved, their quality and subsequent value ends up covering virtually every known combination of numbers...

 

Yet other times you can be just stood around scratching your nutsack when you hear the golden words uttered "Do you buy records.......". Mister Opportunity once again has opened the door and walked right on in.

 

So I'm at this Sunday afternoon car boot which I frequently attend and I'm scuttling about hunting fo' vinyl. I'd just swooped on a woman's shoe box full of 45s tucked away on the floor out of plain view. The first half of the box contained all the usual casualties from her school years - and you know full well I mean Dollar, Bucks Fizz and other assorted drossy lightweight froth. But the second half of the box positively glowed with multiple swear words - "they're not mine" she said, "they're my boyfriends who was all into punk at time". I asked her several times point blank was her boyfriend fully aware that she was selling his records?

 

A deal was quickly struck and my rucksack was filled.

I'd only walked a few yards when a woman stood in front of a Black shiny top end Range Rover said "Are you called Derek? And as I turned around she finished with "and you buy vinyl records?"

 

To be continued.........

 

Derek

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No matter where you live in this big world most record collectors aka hounds will recognise these 2 scenarios straight away - the first involves getting a lead on some records (potentially of interest) where you do all the right things at the right time sometimes over a period of several weeks even months which somehow just sorta fizzles out and the trail goes cold without even the merest sighting way off in the distance of a solitary album mailer.

 

Yet as more mates get to hear the story as each day passes the number of records involved, their quality and subsequent value ends up covering virtually every known combination of numbers...

 

Yet other times you can be just stood around scratching your nutsack when you hear the golden words uttered "Do you buy records.......". Mister Opportunity once again has opened the door and walked right on in.

 

So I'm at this Sunday afternoon car boot which I frequently attend and I'm scuttling about hunting fo' vinyl. I'd just swooped on a woman's shoe box full of 45s tucked away on the floor out of plain view. The first half of the box contained all the usual casualties from her school years - and you know full well I mean Dollar, Bucks Fizz and other assorted drossy lightweight froth. But the second half of the box positively glowed with multiple swear words - "they're not mine" she said, "they're my boyfriends who was all into punk at time". I asked her several times point blank was her boyfriend fully aware that she was selling his records?

 

A deal was quickly struck and my rucksack was filled.

I'd only walked a few yards when a woman stood in front of a Black shiny top end Range Rover said "Are you called Derek? And as I turned around she finished with "and you buy vinyl records?"

 

To be continued.........

 

Derek

 

Stop bigging up your part.

Have you looked through them yet ?

 

Do you want a lift when you do ?

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Derek, clearly this is "Tease" from your forthcoming erotic novel for over fifties record hounds? 

BTW put me down for copy.... Promo copy of course this was the line that sold it for me:-

 

"my rucksack was filled.

I'd only walked a few yards when a woman stood in front of a Black shiny top end Range Rover said "Are you called Derek? And as I turned around she finished with "and you buy vinyl records?"
 
To be continued.........
 
pure Erotica Mr Pearson it just needs a good title......      Any Ideas?

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A deal was quickly struck and my rucksack was filled.

I'd only walked a few yards when a woman stood in front of a Black shiny top end Range Rover said "Are you called Derek? And as I turned around she finished with "and you buy vinyl records?"

 

To be continued.........

 

Derek

Dirk Diggler does Vinyl :lol:

Derek looks like Ruby's going to have fun chasing the rats off for you.

Hope find something matey :thumbsup: 

Cheers

Martyn

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Derek, clearly this is "Tease" from your forthcoming erotic novel for over fifties record hounds? 

BTW put me down for copy.... Promo copy of course this was the line that sold it for me:-

 

"my rucksack was filled.

I'd only walked a few yards when a woman stood in front of a Black shiny top end Range Rover said "Are you called Derek? And as I turned around she finished with "and you buy vinyl records?"
 
To be continued.........
 
pure Erotica Mr Pearson it just needs a good title......      Any Ideas?..........
 
 
 

 

50 sheds of vinyl ?

Edited by neiljon31

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Derek, clearly this is "Tease" from your forthcoming erotic novel for over fifties record hounds? 

BTW put me down for copy.... Promo copy of course this was the line that sold it for me:-

 

"my rucksack was filled.

I'd only walked a few yards when a woman stood in front of a Black shiny top end Range Rover said "Are you called Derek? And as I turned around she finished with "and you buy vinyl records?"
 
To be continued.........
 
pure Erotica Mr Pearson it just needs a good title......      Any Ideas?

 

 

Dereks seven inch adventures ?

 

Now where does that apostrophe go ? 

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Would love to have a day looking through that lot! Ahh the smell of 30+ yr old damp card and paper.....the feeling that you might, just might find something amongst the rubbish. Have fun in there!

 

Today I nipped into a local recycling place on my travels and there stacked up as I walked in were several old crates and mouldy card boxes of jumbled records and cd's etc people had dropped off...30 mins of sleeves up, breath held at times and digging I picked out ten half decent soul LPs and 12's (fiver the lot!). About to leave quite satisfied and spotted another pile of jumbled 45's so thought a quick look and amongst the pop and rock and pap was a glistening mint Grapevine demo (Sam Williams - Love slipped through my fingers / Towanda Barnes - You don't mean it). Not mega rare I know but the location and stuff it was amongst coupled with fact the fella only wanted 20p for it has truly made my day!

 

Immediate reaction...if this is here where are other similar things from the person who dropped the box off? Sadly another 20 mins turning old furniture and toys etc over didn't result in a bigger find, but had my heart fluttering for the time I looked. I'll be back to the now secret location on a regular basis of course!

 

....Digging old fashioned style as you say. Can't beat it!

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I'd only walked a few yards when a woman stood in front of a Black shiny top end Range Rover said "Are you called Derek? And as I turned around she finished with "and you buy vinyl records?"

 

Slightly puzzled as I didn't recognise her face I answered "Yes and Yes". She laughed. Then quickly followed it up with "You might remember I spoke to you sometime last year about my sister who lived in Hornsea who had a load of albums - Beatles and Stones and stuff - she wanted to get rid of. The only problem was the records were in Hornsea. But that's all changed as I've got them at my house now". 

Which was handy as she lived my side of town and only about 5 miles away to boot.

 

As we talked this bloke aged about 30 appeared alongside me and eased his way into the conversation. It was done so effortlessly I just somehow assumed he knew this lady I was talking to. But he didn't. Eventually the Range Rover lady and I wrapped up our conversation with her promising to ring me later that evening with further details.

 

So this bloke asks me "if I buy records" then proceeds to tell me they've bought an old mill which they're converting into flats however there's a room wall to wall full of old records that needs clearing out asap. He reckoned there was thousands of  'em maybe even 10 thou but they had to go within the next few days. How much did he want for 'em I asked? With a shrug of his shoulders "pence" he replied. 

I suddenly felt my hand got even stronger as I allowed myself just a tinge of excitement. He said he'd phone me later in the evening.

 

Sure enough despite being a bloke he rang as promised and a meet was quickly arranged for 10am the next day in Batley outside Jessops Mill. That gave me enough time to do my own little search on the Mill via good old Google.

 

Uncovered the Property Guide dated September 2013 from the company charged with selling it......"Accommodation split over 3 floors — formerly used as an Auction house / second hand dealer — the property is the subject of extensive storage and collections of waste stock, the seller do not intend clearing the property and it is sold as seen".

 

Aah the muddy water started to run clear.

 

Monday was forecast a warm day so armed with rubber gloves, a face mask and 2 litres of fresh orange juice I meets the guy as arranged. We walk up to a group of about 10 lads outside the mill and he introduces me to the man giving orders a big stocky muscular Asian lad about 30 ish. He gives the go ahead but we have to find another bloke first. We turn the corner and he introduces me to another big stocky muscular Asian lad about 30 ish. He says “yeah no problem” and we walk back up to the mill.

 

As soon as I cross over the front step I’m standing on discarded records that litter the floor all over the place. My eyes light up the darkness. We march up the old staircase “careful to keep to the left side” he advises as the other side wobbles a bit. I think you mean the right hand side isn’t actually attached to anything and bounces up and down like a trampoline in the wind.

Real men ha — we laugh in the face of Health & Safety. Yeah right.

We walk down the corridor side stepping loose debris all the way to the end room (see picture 1).

 

But the end room is bare, empty, stripped clean and I mean completely bare apart from the old carpet on the floor. No records no nuttin'.

"Damn they must’ve tipped the whole lot yesterday" - the records covered the whole length of the wall he went onto explain.

 

Oh well It was a sunny day and I hadn’t been to Batley in ages so nothing much was lost.

 

As I gazed about the empty room trying to work out some rough measurements which would give a very rough guestimate of the number of records that went to the tip the day before my guide plays his master card — “hang on there’s another room full of records that have to go yet”.  I like the sound of that indeed I do.

 

we continue the search

Edited by Derek Pearson

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This better have a good ending !

I think it's a safe bet there will only be one person laughing and it wont be all the way to the bank, hope I'm wrong of course 

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Slightly puzzled as I didn't recognise her face I answered "Yes and Yes". She laughed. Then quickly followed it up with "You might remember I spoke to you sometime last year about my sister who lived in Hornsea who had a load of albums - Beatles and Stones and stuff - she wanted to get rid of. The only problem was the records were in Hornsea. But that's all changed as I've got them at my house now". 

Which was handy as she lived my side of town and only about 5 miles away to boot.

 

As we talked this bloke aged about 30 appeared alongside me and eased his way into the conversation. It was done so effortlessly I just somehow assumed he knew this lady I was talking to. But he didn't. Eventually the Range Rover lady and I wrapped up our conversation with her promising to ring me later that evening with further details.

 

 

So this bloke asks me "if I buy records" then proceeds to tell me they've bought an old mill which they're converting into flats however there's a room wall to wall full of old records that needs clearing out asap. He reckoned there was thousands of  'em maybe even 10 thou but they had to go within the next few days. How much did he want for 'em I asked? With a shrug of his shoulders "pence" he replied. 

 

I suddenly felt my hand got even stronger as I allowed myself just a tinge of excitement. He said he'd phone me later in the evening.

 

 

Sure enough despite being a bloke he rang as promised and a meet was quickly arranged for 10am the next day in Batley outside Jessops Mill. That gave me enough time to do my own little search on the Mill via good old Google.

 

Uncovered the Property Guide dated September 2013 from the company charged with selling it......"Accommodation split over 3 floors — formerly used as an Auction house / second hand dealer — the property is the subject of extensive storage and collections of waste stock, the seller do not intend clearing the property and it is sold as seen".

 

 

Aah the muddy water started to run clear.

 

 

 

Monday was forecast a warm day so armed with rubber gloves, a face mask and 2 litres of fresh orange juice I meets the guy as arranged. We walk up to a group of about 10 lads outside the mill and he introduces me to the man giving orders a big stocky muscular Asian lad about 30 ish. He gives the go ahead but we have to find another bloke first. We turn the corner and he introduces me to another big stocky muscular Asian lad about 30 ish. He says “yeah no problem” and we walk back up to the mill.

 

As soon as I cross over the front step I’m standing on discarded records that litter the floor all over the place. My eyes light up the darkness. We march up the old staircase “careful to keep to the left side” he advises as the other side wobbles a bit. I think you mean the right hand side isn’t actually attached to anything and bounces up and down like a trampoline in the wind.

Real men ha — we laugh in the face of Health & Safety. Yeah right.

 

We walk down the corridor side stepping loose debris all the way to the end room (see picture 1).

 

 

But the end room is bare, empty, stripped clean and I mean completely bare apart from the old carpet on the floor. No records no nuttin'.

 

"Damn they must’ve tipped the whole lot yesterday" - the records covered the whole length of the wall he went onto explain.

 

 

 

Oh well It was a sunny day and I hadn’t been to Batley in ages so nothing much was lost.

 

 

 

As I gazed about the empty room trying to work out some rough measurements which would give a very rough guestimate of the number of records that went to the tip the day before my guide plays his master card — “hang on there’s another room full of records that have to go yet”.  I like the sound of that indeed I do.

 

we continue the search

 

 

 

Come on Derek get to the scene, where the Gruffolo is caught having a threesome with Wendy and Tinkerbell whilst snorting coke, then

there's an extended car chase with Bruce Willis and John Wayne. doing his best Rooster Cockburn,

cuts him off at the pass.

 

The joys of skunk mate ?.

Edited by Kegsy

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We walked back down the main corridor and he shows me into a room nearest to the main staircase leading up from the ground floor. A crumpled mattress blocks the doorway and as I bounce over it I realise I’m stood about 3-4 foot off the floor.  I’m standing on a tangled jumble of boxes and bags with more boxes and bags of all shapes and sizes liberally garnished on top with a variety of discarded albums.  As I’m surveying the scene trying to decide where to start I start to chuckle to myself as a snippet of  a memory puts some weight on and sorta confirms my belief that virtually everything is connected somehow if you look for it and can see it - like we’re all living in or on some sort of giant spiders web.

 

For the last few years I’d been buying some pretty neat vintage album boxes from this old bloke and knowing I was big into records he mentioned several times about this auction house that was stacked full of records - the whole length of the wall he said— unfortunately his details were pretty sketchy — “it was on the main road into Batley.....”  I never followed it up as even Stevie Wonder could see that an auction house full of old records meant one thing   — it’s stuff they couldn’t sell through their own auctions which they’d stockpiled up to the ceiling over the years.

 

So refresh my memory Derek where exactly am I at the moment? Mmmm the clue is somewhere in Batley........

 

Negotiating around the room was tricky to say the least as every now and then my leg would suddenly plunge down a gap in the debris only stopping when my b*llocks hit summat solid. And whilst my silky footwork and delicate poise gained from decades of 5-a side kick and punch helped me stay upright most of the time it was the thick porridge like layer of dried on pigeon shit that I wasn’t too keen on. It looked like Kendall’s Mint Cake and cracked like a popadom when broke; but somehow didn’t quite smell the same.

 

Not many people know that I’m actually part Yamaha Indian on my mothers side and my ancient tribal name is Eagle Eye Big Chopper. They didn’t honour me with that name for nothing as instinctively I took the layer of pigeon shit as a good sign that the records underneath hadn’t been disturbed for quite a long time. Sometimes the passage of time can deal you a good hand. What wasn’t wanted back then as copies were everywhere can slowly change into pretty collectable items as the numbers in circulation dry up.

 

The gang of lads charged with stripping out all the rooms of waste stock floor to ceiling started in the rooms furthest away from me to give me as much time as possible. I frequently got the impression they thought I was just gonna walk in and scoop up each and every bit of vinyl I could see then bung them some cash which they’d duly split between themselves. Job done and thank you very much. As every hour went by all I could hear was constant loud crashing and banging as they threw everything they could lift down the length of the corridor to the stairs. Bit by bit they edged closer. One very simple tactic enabled them to move tons and tons of stuff pretty quickly. They just unravelled these massive yellow nylon builders bags which dwarfed those normal one tonne builders bags, then proceeded to lob in as much debris as possible before manhandling it down the corridor to the top of the stairs.

 

It was hard to get some sort of rhythm and system going whilst sifting through the vinyl as my space to work was very limited and more and more precious time was spent just moving records around the room to create some vital air pocket to work in. Then I had my first bright idea of the day. If I had some of those big yellow bags I’d stick one in the corridor outside the record room door then bung in as quickly as I could all the vinyl that was not worth having. When the bag was nearly full the lads would simply drag it away. At first many of them would look into the bag and say “Are these all the ones you’re keeping?” “Nah they’re all the ones I’m dumping hahaha”. “These are the ones I’m keeping” said I pointing to a flimsy foot high pile of vinyl.

 

Thinking I was so clever I made a suggestion that seemed to suit both sides. If I got every record I could carry for nothing I’d help him out by clear out the room as I went along, that would free up some of his lads to do other jobs.

Boxes of records were loosely stacked — or maybe thrown — on top of other boxes of records mixed in with bags of old books and car manuals. Loose VHS tapes were scattered here there and everywhere. Add into the mix an assortment of old wooden tables and chairs which hid from view even more boxes and bags of stuff unknown. Nearly all the walls were covered with a patch work of old creaky bookcases and shelving which housed even more piles of vinyl and music related stuff.

 

I worked steadily hour after hour as blatant vinyl lust tightened its grip on me. Finding records I wanted relied plain and simply on my own endeavours which does give you some sort of freedom but can snare you just as quick. At what point do you say stop if your strike rate just ain’t happening or tiredness and hunger saps your will to carry on? Being a self diagnosed obsessive has its benefits — once I’ve started I finish - I made hay while the sun shone and sweated away most of the day from 11am to when everybody stopped at six without any real breaks.

 

As all the lads grouped outside for a bit to drink and eat I proposed another one of my bright ideas. How about they lock me in the building (on my own) so I could carry on looking for as long as possible before bad light stops play. They agreed and told me to leave via the external fire escape.

I squeezed in another good 3 hours in until the pigeons fluttering about above my head started to un-nerve me somewhat. I’d given that record room a bloody good shot so I was happy to leave when I did. I reckon another good 10 hour stint would have seen me finish it.

If rare records were leaping into my lap one after the other I would have gone back into the mill via the fire escape as first light broke the next day - that would given me about another 3 hours window before the big front doors were unlocked at eight.

 

The gangs first job of the new day would be wiping out everything I’d left behind in the record room. And there’s no way I fancied watching that.

 

So did I actually find much after all that effort?   Well yes and no but it depends really on what you define as much?

 

I wasn’t expecting to find any first press Rolling Stones or Beatles acetates and surely you didn’t think my happy ending would involve pulling out a boxful of Frank Wilsons did you? My 10 hours of effort yielded nearly 200 albums and twelve’s that I scuttled down the fire escape with in fading light one night in May. That's a strike rate of 20 an hour or finding summat every 3 minutes.

 

Result wise rare soul was none existent; in fact most forms of black music were noted by their complete absence. Obscure Indie and Punk didn’t much show its face either. One solitary Millie Jackson live album and a couple of reggae twelve’s were the only bits that made the short journey home with me, the rest were mainly well known artists and overall nothing was worth more than 15-20 quid tops. I passed over on quite a lot of the more common pop stuff like Madonna and Leo Sayer as my house just ain't big enough anymore and was content to only pull stuff that was a shade more collectable and saleable.

 

Was it worth the time and effort?  Well the lads that got paid at the end of every day worked a tough 10 hour stretch for just £40 cash. And boy did they earn every penny.

Let me put that into some sort of perspective — I did the same number of hours as them and even if I flogged all my spoils for say a minimum quid each I’d still be making 5 times what they’d be earning. When you ain’t got no money 200 quid is a lot. Knowledge is power (I so wish I'd have said that)

 

Derek

 

Oh and I’m still waiting for that Range Rover lady to ring......

Edited by pikeys dog
swearing - workplace filters

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Was wandering round market in mansfield were I used to work on my break come across a few recs on a booter kurt Harris emperor to my baby's heart demo 20 p plus a few more bits jackie wilson pat lewis etc never seen owt else tho other than thrift shops in New York in feb that was great the thing in brocklyn is amazing 2 recs for a dollar

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Was it worth the time and effort?  Well the lads that got paid at the end of every day worked a tough 10 hour stretch for just £40 cash. And boy did they earn every penny.

Let me put that into some sort of perspective — I did the same number of hours as them and even if I flogged all my spoils for say a minimum quid each I’d still be making 5 times what they’d be earning. When you ain’t got no money 200 quid is a lot. Knowledge is power (I so wish I'd have said that)

 

Derek

 

Oh and I’m still waiting for that Range Rover lady to ring......

 

 

Think I preferred my Bruce Willis/John Wayne ending.

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