virgin london
Oxford Street Photo credit Taken by David Buckley
I also have fond memories of the Virgin Megastore on Oxford Street when it first opened in 1979. Most UK shops used the 'masterbag' system where you took the empty sleeve to the counter and exchanged it for a record.
At Virgin it was different - they had acres of shrink wrapped sleeves... with records in them! (It was so unusual at the time that you had to leave any bags you had at the front desk). It wasn't a particularly a place to hang out in (unlike the aforementioned Volunteers or RT) but you could get lost for hours in there, just perusing the racks. It was so exotic - I don't think I'd ever seen so many records in one place. By 1982 I had moved up to London and spent a lot of time hanging around in another Virgin on Oxford Street - a much smaller one which was below street level, and which specialised in more 'alternative' music - 23 Skidoo, Whitehouse, ACR etc
(June 23, 2013) Ray said:As a long-haired teenager, I used to frequent the first Virgin shop at 130 Notting Hill with my friends (this would have been from 1969). I bought my Amon Duul II and Tangerine Dream LPs here, along with other music not found in the local Smiths. I don't know how Virgin made it so big. A few customers did occasionally part with money, but most of the 'customers' would just spend hours lying on the cushions, listening to the latest imports through headphones - mostly out of it, on whatever drug of choice. I remember the staff enthusiastically telling everyone about their new shop opening in Oxford Street (this was in 1971; they opened their Oxford Street 'Megastore' in 1979) - but, why go all that way up town when you could have a great time right there in Notting Hill!
I worked in Marble Arch until the Croydon re-vamp and then moved to New York where on a cold December day (the day after I arrived) I walked straight into Pete Dolan. Was the funniest coincidence. Comment: Richard Blackham
I lived in Brighton in 1979. The clocktower Virgin had closed and a much smaller branch opened on the opposite side of the road. That's what I was used to - small record shops. In '79 my mate Lyndon moved to London and I used to stay with him in his bedsit in Hackney, going to gigs and record shopping etc. One weekend in the Autumn of '79 I went up to see him. We dropped some mushrooms on Saturday morning and went to the new Virgin Megastore on Oxford St. What a trip. I couldn't believe the size, it was a mind-blowing magical wonderland. As you say in your piece - no master-bagging, all the stock was 'live'.... and not just a Can se ction - but a Monster Movie section, an Ege Bamyasi section, a Tago Mago section etc ... with vast numbers of each title on display, racked out and all sealed. Even though I was heavily altered I managed to get it together to buy a whole truckload of great albums - most of which I still possess: Faust IV and Monster Movie for £1.99, Ron Geesin albums for £1.49, some import reggae releases and a whole load of rare European avant garde titles like Art Zoyd, Aksak Maboul and Univers Zero. After that we went for a long walk 'round London, had a couple of pints and then went to see This Heat play under the YMCA on Charing Cross Rd. What a great day
Mike Bradshaw
High Street Ken
Image Martin 1973 Notting Hill Gate
Notting Hill Gate
Virgin credit note for Van Der Graaf LP 1970
Donated by Flashback Records
When 18 in 1972 I was fined for criminal damage after paint spraying a slogan on a small independent record store in Notting Hill Gate called Virgin Records. The hip place to be but there was something that didn't convince me; this was a business pastiche of the ethos it claimed, and was selling. In those days the world was divided, quite? Usefully on reflection, between 'hip and square@ whatever the definitions we knew what they meant. And in between was a pseudo person who looked or thought they were hip but were actually square. I thought Virgin Records was pseudo.
The owner, who had long blonde hair , came to my trail at Marylebone Magistrate Court, curious as to who would want to damage his lovely shop. Richard Branson recognised and stopped me on Ladbroke Grove shortly afterwards and asked me why.
When Words Fail-Ed Villainy
Extract From Beyond Jazz The Golden Age In London 1966-1972.