One-Up is an institution in Aberdeen, it's been around in a number of premises for over 30 years and in it's heyday was as much a social gathering place as a purveyor of vinyl records, cds, clothes and fanzines. If, heaven forfend, it closed, it would essentially signify the end of the traditional record shop in Aberdeen. Ok, you'd still have HMV, but that's more of a DVD shop that happens to sell CDs than a record shop, it's okay if you want the new Adele CD but good luck with picking up a copy of the new Monoganon single. Of course you can always go to the hypermarkets, although if Tesco's is your record shop of choice then this diatribe is really not for you, so look away now.
One of the many things that pains me about the possible demise of independent record shops is that I always wanted to work in, or ideally, own my own record shop. When I worked in an office I had this picture from the film High Fidelity pinned in front of my desk.
It was there to serve as a constant reminder that I was only working for the man as a means to fulfilling my ambition to have my own Championship Vinyl. The ever-growing popularity of illegal download sites, Spotify and the like have cast my record shop ownership dream into the bin of lost employment ambitions alongside betamax video repair man and product buyer for the Innovations Catalogue. If Fred and Raymond at One-Up are struggling to make the books balance after 30 years in the business what chance would I stand.
I've always loved record shops - albums, sorted alphabetically and by genre, neatly slotted into their racks, tightly packed, though not so tightly that you have to take them out to recognise them; singles in smaller racks or in long boxes on the counters; the top 100, singles and albums, cut out of Record Week and stuck in a prominent position near the till; trying to recognise the song playing on the turntable behind the counter, liking it but not wanting to ask who it was by so as not to appear uncool. Magic.
One of my earliest childhood memories involves a record shop. I'd saved up my pocket money and gone to Sherriffs record shop in Arbroath, (a foreseer of the impending download apocalypse, closing down as it did in around 1976), to buy Pool Hall Richard by the Faces, which wasn't in stock so had to be ordered. Of course by the time it came in I'd spent my pocket money on Texan bars and Bazooka Joe's so ended up never setting foot in the shop again for fear of having to cough up money that I didn't have for a single I no longer wanted. Perhaps it was this lost sale that destabilised the house of cards that was Sherriffs finances and led to it's closure, just before punk rock kick-started the indie label boom and the riches that accompanied it?
Fast forward 3 or 4 years and I was spending most weekends in Aberdeen, which at the time was awash with record shops and stores with record departments.
A typical Saturday morning would see us catch a bus at around 9 from the Bridge of Dee to the Castlegate. Head down Marsichal Street to Telemech to check out their singles box which was always an eclectic mix of punk, new wave and pub rock. You had to ask to see the box, which was kept under the counter, they were probably worried that someone might steal their copy of Hold On by Ian Gomm or Non Stop Dancing by The Four Kings if they let them out of their sight. After Telemech we would sometimes head to Norco House, the record dept was shit but it entertained us to ask the assistant for Music For Pleasure by the Damned, only to be pointed in the direction of the MFP label album rack that consisted mainly of budget compilations by Paul Anka or your favourite Disney singalong hits. Simple pleasures.
Next stop was Bruce Millers in Loch Street, which was not as good as the Holborn Street branch as it catered more for the classical music lover than oiks like us. From there we'd head to Happy Trails to check out the 2nd end of the market, or, as was often the case, see how much they were prepared to give you for the Eagles and ELO albums you'd bought before punk ever happened. When we could no longer stand the smell of burning joss sticks we'd head back towards town, or, latterly, move onto a newly opened shop in Rosemount Viaduct, One-Up*. In premises more akin to the Diamond Street shop than the current Belmont Street store, I associate the early One-Up as the shop that replaced Happy Trails as the place to sell your unwanted vinyl rather than the one stop shop for all essential singles and albums and the place to hang out that it became.
*Historical note - Happy Trails may have been closed before One-Up opened, I don't think so, but I can't be sure
Back towards Union Street, we'd take a cursory glance in New Market Tapes before we'd head down to the Market in the Green, where there were two stalls selling pnuk badges, the one at the bottom of the Union Street steps being the superior stall for all your pin-on needs. From their it was short hop halfway up the Union St steps then turn left in the side door to Boots*, to check out the discounted 'out of chart' records.Back onto Union Street and into Elena Mae, which, if memory serves, was the cheapest place in town for chart singles. It also had a good selection of out of chart singles where you could pick up the odd bargain.
*(yes young 'uns Boots the Chemist used to have a record dept, not a very good one, but one nonetheless).
After Elena Mae it was into the holy grail of Aberdeen record shops, The Other Record Shop. I could write a whole blog on what I loved about TORS, the album covers on the wall, the settees with the headphones above them, Inky Books through the back, blah, blah, blah. Suffice to say if I could revisit one shop from my youth, this would be the one. It would packed on a Saturday with people just hanging out, like Warhammer players at Games Workshop, only with cool people, not geeks.
After that we'd stop off at the Lite Bite at Holborn Juction for a coffee and to compare our purchases before hitting the homeward stretch. Firstly John Menzies for more out of chart bargains, then onto Bruce Millers in Holborn Street, where I still fondly remember getting my mitts on the only copy of Tubeway Army's Down In The Park 12" which we'd trawled all over town to find, much to my friends chagrin. To me that sums up the importance of both buying a physical product and therefore the importance of record shops. I can recall every detail of buying a 12" single 32 years hence, I promise you I will never say or write the phrase, 'I rembember vividy when I downloaded...." Whilst I also enjoyed when a delivery came from one of the mail order companies, Small Wonder or Rough Trade, nothing compared to joy of finding something yo didn't expect to see when flicking through the racks.
From Bruce Miller's it was onto Thistle Records, a scottish music specialist who occasionally must have got a box of punk singles and albums mixed in with their Jimmy Shand and Tartan Lads order. We used to torture the poor old lady behind the counter who didn't suffer us young fools very gladly, asking for the most bizarre singles we could think of. The final destination on our weekly tour was Grooves on Great Western Road, the poor guy behind the counter was another who was bombarded with requests for obscure singles that he never had but took it in better spirits than the wifey in Thistle did, although he was a good 50 years younger.
After that it was back to Garthdee, stopping off at the Dee Chocolate Cabin for a quarter of sports mixtures, to play what I'd just bought on the old dansette in my gran's front room which I think could take 6 singles piled on top of each other before the turntable ground to a halt.
For those of you who managed to complete my walk down memory lane will no doubt have spotted One-Up is the last man standing. Others not mentioned like Virgin in Mccombies Court, Grand Fare (I think it had a record dept, akin to Norco's) & Woolies (both Union Steet & Georgre St branches) and doubt some others that I've missed have also fallen by the wayside. We've gone from 20 or so outlets to almost none. So this Saturday, if you're in Aberdeen, or wherever you are that has an independent record shop, spare 20 minutes to drop by, if you don't you might not be able to next year.
