Recording The Changes

BBC 4 are currently showing repeat episodes of Top of the Pops from 1979. Its a mixed bag of good memories and some things very much of their time and maybe best left there. But with music being so accessible today, its worth noting just what an event this programme used to be on Thursday night television. It was one of the few ways, kids TV aside, you could see the day's pop stars performing or rather miming, their hits.
And the impact an appearance on the show could have was immense. Pictured, is Jill Hanson's record shop, which used to be one of Coventry's premier music buying stores. Many would flock there to buy a disc courtesy of a song that had inspired them during Top of the Pops. In those days all the large department stores stocked the hit vinyls of the day. From Woolworth's to Owen Owen, you could spend an happy afternoon browsing through the record racks. 
If you missed out on a hit, there was Exchange and Mart or countless second hand shops in Gosford Street where you could go detective like, to track down a desired gem. In these days of streaming and downloading, it seems hard to explain to those younger how important the whole vinyl experience was. The twelve inch album sleeve was like acquiring a painting, a work of art that had been designed with love to accompany the disc inside. Then often, there was an inner sleeve complete with lyrics. It was like a labour of love mutually shared between the artist and audience. 
There seemed a real connection, a pride as you clutched your purchase, and couldn't wait to get home and put on the record player. Then you'd play the same song or album endlessly, if it was the pet favourite sound of the time. Often, it would be played in a bedroom with posters of the artist adorning the walls, like a visual homage to your favourite act. 
Above is Virgin Records, which used to be in Coventry City Centre. But back in the late 70's when I first ventured there, it was a lot less mainstream than today's stores of the same name. It was mainly frequented by rocker types during my early visits. Next door, was a large pub called, The Climax. This was a stronghold of the Coventry biker and heavy metal crowd. With Virgin being next door, there was a vibe of a rock scene around this small corner.
When punk broke big, I was intrigued. Virgin thankfully embraced the scene helped by fact Richard Branson had signed The Sex Pistols to his matching Virgin Records label. The shop housed all the hip punk and new wave sounds. I'd go there with my mates, Ray Gower and Loz Murphy, two of the first Coventry punks. For a brief while there was a real feeling that something exciting was happening and the establishment was receiving a kicking. Sadly it didn't last.
But on the back of this, independent record shops emerged. These would stock music that the average record store wouldn't sell. The person on the street had woken up to the fact anyone with a bit of talent and drive could make a record. Suddenly the audience were becoming the people on stage. Shops like Inferno and Revolver opened up a whole new door in Coventry for aspiring  bands. Many stormed through it.
But times changed. Vinyls popularity waned with the advent of the compact disc. This too fell foul to the  changing ways of listening to music. As computers became everyday household items, it was possible to listen and even own your favourite song with a couple of clicks of a mouse. For me, personally, it isn't the same. Sure, I listen to music online but there is none of the tingle of excitement that I got from rushing out to buy an anticipated release in physical format.
Times have changed. But I'm glad I was there, glued to TOTP on Thursday nights, often to see that one band or solo artist that somehow reflected how I felt. Much as I enjoy music at the whim of a finger, I fondly remember the times when City Centre's had a host of record stores. You felt like a member of a community, and that's something that all the high tech in the World can never quite replace.