Baker's Dozen

Artists discuss the 13 records that shaped their lives

In my barefoot wanderings around High Wycombe, I would, often, find myself in the sacred halls of Scorpion Records, a second-hand record shop that was shabbily appointed but masterfully curated. It was the gateway to enlightenment. My older stepbrother, who although we did not grow up in the same house, would visit us often and on those visits, he would bring news from the outside world. I hung on his every word. He knew things I could only dream of. On one of his visitations, he mentioned the names of several magicians, Jah Stitch, Lee ‘Scratch’ Perry, King Tubby.

I began my investigations with a copy of Linton Kwesi Johnson in dub, which I found somewhat improbably at a local Catholic school’s summer bric-a-brac fair. I immediately loved it, because I didn’t understand how something so massive could be made from so little. It was concentrated minimalism. Scorpion Records was a repository for such wonders, and again it was largely guesswork on my part as to what records to pick up. This particular magical entity cost me 50p and was traditionally the first record I played many years later at Spice; the Balearic knees-up I ran with Greg Fenton in the early 1990’s.

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