By Daisy Spinelli
I recently returned from a spin overseas, where I visited four European countries: Ireland, Switzerland, Germany and Denmark. We had a jam-packed schedule between planes, trains, and visits with friends and family, with little time to wander. However, as a record store employee and aficionado, going on an international crate dive seemed far more enticing than any tourist trap. And with batting eyes, I managed to convince my girlfriend of this too, so we visited shops in all four countries.
After a long, direct flight from Denver, we started the Spring tour.
Golden Discs – Galway, Ireland, May 22
After a record-breaking 14-hour sleep, we headed into town. We didn’t have a plan to stop by a record store that day, but when we happened upon a Golden Discs in the city centre, I excitedly popped in. And what a disappointment! I had heard of Golden Discs before – I knew they had multiple locations but that’s about it. When I walked in, my first impression was that the place was completely devoid of character. Only popular new records, trinkets and toys, cheap suitcase turntables. They run a forever sale, where you could buy any 2 records for €50, or any 3 for €70.
I was baffled by their business model, and honestly the place in general. I asked a bored-looking alternative employee how many Golden Discs there were. She paused, told me she didn’t know and asked a manager who responded flatly, “22 locations.”
We left shortly after to find something, somewhere, with soul.
Note: I left so fast I forgot to take a photo, so this photo is one of the other Golden Discs I saw in Cork.
Bunker Vinyl – Cork, Ireland, May 26
Ireland was in the middle of a heat wave when we went, which meant we explored Cork for the first time in hot, humid 85° weather. But that didn’t stop us from a sweaty search for more shops.
After crossing a bridge over River Lee, we visited Bunker Vinyl. Nestled in an unassuming basement near the city centre, Bunker Vinyl was an independent, small shop with a split inventory of new and used vinyl. And although it was tiny, it was in a great part of the city. I got into a conversation with John, the incredibly cool shop owner, who said the rent was cheap because of the property’s tendency to flood.
John had been in the spot for 11 years. Similar to Duane Davis’ and Dave Stidman’s social-worker-to-Wax-Trax-owner trajectory, John was a London-based social worker for the teen drug crisis before he opened Bunker. He was rough around the edges, as I imagine anyone who’s dealt with teen fentanyl overdoses would be.
But he was kind, funny, and unabashedly honest. He thought it unethical to price gouge first pressings. He refused to have an online business, or participate in “corrupt” events like Record Store Day. He openly detested Ireland’s current rap darlings, Kneecap. These shared opinions instantly made me like him.
That, and the fact that while we were there, he knew everyone else who came in by name, and as they left, said he’d see them tomorrow.
John said he works 6-days-a-week in the shop, and orders product directly from labels (not through distributors, notably) on his one “day off.” He hadn’t had a vacation in a decade, but he didn’t seem burned out. His passion for music, and creating an intentional space for people to connect with it, made him the most genuine record store owner I’ve ever met.
Although he had a fantastic selection, I hesitated buying a record and exposing it to direct sunlight for hours. We left after I gave him a Wax Trax sticker, which he placed on the door, and said goodbye.
Rework & Musik Hug Vinyl Station – Zurich, Switzerland, May 30
Before our trip, my girlfriend developed a hyperfixation for the album “Everything” by the Swiss band Black Sea Dahu. She DM’d them on Instagram, asking where she could buy their vinyl in Zurich, and they told us records and merch were available at a store called Rework.
I guess we assumed it would be a record shop, but we walked into an upcycled clothing shop that had exactly one record for sale: “Everything” by Black Sea Dahu. Although this seemed strange, our mission was accomplished quickly, and we even left with some new clothes too.
Because our Black Sea Dahu quest ended early, we went to a proper record shop nearby called Musik Hug Vinyl Station. It was relatively spacious for a European shop, and had a loft upstairs. They only sold new vinyl, which I’m not terribly interested in, but I found a record I like that Wax Trax passed on, “Glutton for Punishment” by Heartworms, in their discount section.
The only other notable thing about Musik Hug Vinyl Station is that they still had tons of Record Store Day stock, including titles that sold out everywhere I know in the U.S. Also, beside my prized Heartworms vinyl, the only other records in their discount section were from Jelly Roll and Katy Perry.
Marla Records & Sound Vinyl Store – Berlin, Germany, June 2
We had an excellent few days in Berlin, and topped it off with a couple record stores before the airport. Berlin, in my opinion one of the best cities in the world, had lots of shops to choose from. We landed on some strategically on-our-way shops that people on Reddit seemed to like, starting with Marla Records.
Marla Records was small, but labyrinthian with many connecting rooms. There were several listening stations set up throughout the shop, which seemed to speak to its encouraging used collection. Don’t know this record? That’s okay, you only have to take two steps to listen to it.
I would’ve liked to spend more time exploring unknown music there, but most of it seemed to be house music, jazz, and oldies, so we left to spend more time in the next shop.
Just a block away was Sound Vinyl Store Berlin, another basement record store. Outside, there were colorful vinyl strung across the sidewalk which I loved and *will* copy for Wax Trax somehow.
Inside, there were two rooms full of used and new vinyl with no dominating genre. When we walked in with our big backpacks, a tiny dog under the counter barked incessantly. The shop owner, a bored looking man whose name I didn’t catch, sighed and lazily reprimanded the dog. We put our bags down and the dog stopped barking.
We spent a while digging through this shop’s selection. There were a few records I liked that caught my attention, but I ended up picking up an album I’d never heard but with a great cover: “Solid Pleasure” by Swiss electronic trio Yello. Sound Vinyl’s only “listening station” was the shop speakers, so I subjected everyone there to my choice while I listened to a few songs. The weird, early 80s synth sounds and general unpredictability sold me.
After checking out, we left the shop to go to lunch with friends, then headed to the airport, Copenhagen-bound.
Prewn show and Sound Station – Copenhagen, Denmark, June 5 & 7
The first vinyl I got in Denmark was a result of pure luck. A U.S. artist named Prewn who released my favorite album of the year last year, “System,” and hasn’t performed in Colorado since I’ve known her, happened to be performing in Copenhagen while we were there. We couldn’t pass up the opportunity to see her at A&B Beta (a very Danish venue with intentionally designed hang-out spaces and bar).
After her performance, which made me laugh and cheer and cry, I bought her debut record “Through the Window” (I already owned “System”), which she kindly signed for me.
Out of all the shops we visited overseas, I spent the most time browsing Sound Station in Frederiksburg, a somewhat posh neighborhood in Copenhagen. This was mostly because they had the largest, most organized used vinyl selection yet. My girlfriend patiently waited hours while I scanned each used genre wall, hopping on a stool and crouching down low to make sure I didn’t miss anything.
It might go without saying that I was trying to limit the amount of vinyl I was buying. As anyone who’s traveled with records knows, it’s logistically challenging. I was carrying on my record haul as my flight personal item on all these flights, and it was getting heavy. Although the record fiend inside me kicked and screamed, I narrowed my picks down to Black Country New Road’s debut album, “For The First Time,” and the sophomore Wavves album, “Wavvves.” Nostalgia for my teen years spent listening to Wavves won over.
Freebird Records – Dublin, Ireland, June 8
We journeyed back to Ireland for a couple more days before our flight home. As I hadn’t gotten a record from the country yet, I knew my vinyl hunt wasn’t over.
We stumbled across Freebird Records in the Temple Bar neighborhood – equal parts vinyl and book store. It was a cluttered shop with blaring signage. When I started flipping through records, I froze. There was no vinyl in the record sleeves, even in the new records. I wondered if it was a measure against theft protection, but when I asked the counter clerk, he said it was just how they organized everything. All the vinyl was behind the counter, and not having the bulky vinyl inside allowed them to pack the racks more.
Interesting concept, which apparently is more common and old school than I knew. But it seems like a logistical nightmare.
They were closing soon, and so I grabbed the first record that caught my attention – Faux Real’s only album to-date, “Faux Ever.” They slid my pick into a paper bag and we headed out.
On the way to our hotel, we came across an empty playground. Because we’re kids at heart, we set the record bag down to competitively teeter-totter. Suddenly, I heard a dragging noise behind me. A seagull had a firm beak-hold on my Freebird Records bag and was dragging it away, preparing to take flight.
Without thinking, I panicked and yelled, “Hey! Don’t take my record!”
The seagull dropped the record, taking a chunk of paper off the bag, and flew off to a nearby car. I was laughing so hard at this point, but managed to take photos of my girlfriend triumphantly holding the record overhead, with the offending seagull sulking in the distance.
Just because it was Freebird Records, doesn’t mean the record was free, bird.
Dublin, Ireland – June 9 (Golden Discs)
I didn’t go into this Golden Discs, but I did find it funny that it was the last record store of the trip I laid eyes on. They’re a scourge on Ireland, I guess.
Denver, USA – June 10
We made our way home with countless crate-digging hours on the books and six new-to-me vinyl records. As I spread out my haul at home, I realized these records were so much more than music. They were associated memories: an often-flooded basement shop in Cork, a hyperfixation-fueled hunt in Zurich, a barking dog in Berlin, a tearful concert in Copenhagen, and a seagull attempted-robbery in Dublin. Long after the jet lag fades, those are the places I’ll hear when the needle drops.
Leave a Reply