My most ethereal record shopping experience:
In the early 1980s, I was aware of, but wholly without access to, a slew of re-pressings of classic soundtrack albums that had long been deleted in American record label catalogs.
I had no idea exactly what was out there, but I had a good idea I wanted most of it.
As fate would have it -- and the luck of the Irish blood within me -- I was in the right place and right time -- and favored by the officer in charge of the school -- to be selected as the military journalism instructor to travel to an Air Force Base in Luton, UK, to teach a 3-day class on how to write stories for a base newspaper. The USAF was footing the bill. The trouble was that this base was divided between "general access" and "no access-highly restricted". Of course, those in the "highly restricted" areas NEVER saw themselves, or anything they did, reported on in the base paper. My job was to teach them to write stories about their jobs and their interests without compromising security.
Enough background...I tacked three days of vacation to the end of my trip and spent those days in London at the Tower Hotel. My goal was to re-visit this glorious city AND to find some of those re-pressed jewels of recorded film music.
I went through the UK version of the yellow pages, and found only addresses of shops. I struck out on my own to see if I'd get lucky. In the first day of looking, I found one item I wanted. In the second day, I widened my search and went far afield, asking questions of clerks who seemed unaware that anyone other than themselves sold records.
By the end of the 2nd day, I was deflated. I wanted nothing more than to return to my hotel and soak in a hot tub and sip a nice cup of tea. I managed to get within a block or two of Piccadilly Station when I became a bit disoriented. I stopped to check my map...as I turned it round to find where I was, I looked across a street to find its name. What I found instead was a storefront with a HUGE plate glass window.
And on that window, I discovered the words that confirmed my belief in angels or, at least, "the force."
There was "58 Dean Street" -- Specialists in Original Soundtracks, Cast Recordings and Celebrity Recordings.
I carefully crossed the street (lest fate laughingly smite me down) and entered the shop (56 minutes before its closing time). Bins and bins and bins of recordings.
And along one wall...SOUNDTRACKS...bins and bins of them.
As time was of the essence, I started at one end and worked my way toward the other. I pulled and stacked LPs as I went along. I was on a "budget", but I'd been generous in my preparations by buying sufficient American Express checks to cover me should I be in an emergency. After having winnowed through the lot, and keeping my eye on the ticking clock, I found myself with a pile of 30-plus LPs.
I sorted through them, made a few difficult decisions and got the lot down to 25 LPs (not purely CHEAP, either).
After the ringing up, I had to rush from the shop to a nearby exchange office to convert a few checks to pounds. I rushed back and still had time to chat a bit with the owners. I was very pleased with my findings, and those records are still cherished prizes in my collection.
Over the years, 58 Dean Street was a source for the unobtainable for me (pre-internet, of course).
They are no longer there, having relocated a number of years ago (rather sad, actually, like the ending of "84 Charing Cross Road"). They may not be at the new site any longer. I believe they might do business online, but I've forgotten the name.
There IS a P.S. I took that hot bath, and I sipped that hot cup of tea. I had a nice dinner. And I had a nice night's sleep. However, by the time I had called a taxi to take me to Gatwick, I'd decided I wanted two of the cast-offs from the day before. So...we stopped, I dashed, I grabbed and I paid...and made it to Gatwick in plenty of time.
