Recommendations of the Editorial team
When the record store bell rings, I sprint up the creaky, listed stairs and open the door eagerly: is there a familiar face waiting there, or is there a new customer on the way Villa Hansa records found? Does someone just want to take a look or is they looking for a specific record? Will this person even tell me an anecdote from his life? That’s always the best thing.
Something special happened recently: someone rang the doorbell twice, but there were three hours between them. I suspected a return request, after all, many vinyl collectors, myself included, have long had a better overview of their tax documents than of their recordings; Accidental double purchases can hardly be avoided.
But the gentleman rang again for a different reason: He had purchased “Things The Grandchildren Should Know”, the autobiography of Eels singer Mark Oliver Everett, from me and reported, visibly moved, that he had already read half of the book and that it was incredibly good. This is also the opinion of Pete Townshend, who said about the work: “One of the best books ever written by a contemporary artist. I learned more about my own business and my own methods by reading this book than I did by reading the life of Chuck Berry, Elvis or David Bowie.”
It’s about music as a lifeline in an almost absurd cascade of blows of fate and loss. The returning customer concluded by saying reverently: “I just wanted to say thank you again.” A thank you that is not motivated by politeness or a sense of duty: what a gift!
“I didn’t even tell my wife!”
At this point I would like to thank the red chair in my shop. It dates back to the 1950s, still stands up to life with all four legs and is always there when it is needed: as a storage space for jackets, bags and disinterested companions.
It always makes me a little sad when couples can’t share their passion for music with each other. “180 euros for a Neil Young concert ticket, I never told my wife that!” a customer once whispered, sounding as if he was trusting me with a state secret. Another raved about his vinyl sky in the specially converted attic, where he always hides in the evenings: “My wife then watches TV.”
The solution is absolutely obvious, because relationships and records have one very essential thing in common: You don’t hear every scratch, and you don’t see every noise. You have to take the time to listen to each other.
Even if it’s not always as entertaining as the story that Michael recently told at my shop counter: When he turned around briefly on Hollywood Boulevard in September 2025, the random roulette over the shoulder unexpectedly gave him a familiar pair of eyes. It was framed by distinctive horn-rimmed glasses and belonged to Jarvis Cocker!
Pulp had performed with LCD Soundsystem at the Hollywood Bowl on the previous two evenings. Nobody except Michael seemed to recognize Cocker: “It’s funny how everyone takes photos of the Walk of Fame and the real heroes stroll past them unnoticed.”
Thorsten joined our conversation and laughed as he talked about his chance meetings with entertainers: Nickelback at the airport in LA and Roberto Blanco in London’s Wimbledon district. In both cases he refrained from asking for a photo together. There has to be a little seriousness.