“God runs this shop,” Derek Burbidge declares. “I rent it from God.”
In the mid-1950s, the likes of Elvis Presley and Little Richard wrestled with what they felt to be the tension between rock ‘n roll and religion. As a born-again Christian though, Burbidge fears no such contradiction. The bequiffed 78 year old’s North London record store, the Record Detective Agency, is stacked ceiling-to-floor with classics from the genre’s heyday. Behind the counter I spot Carl Perkins’ dixie-fried Dance Album and Presley’s sensational Good Rockin’ Tonight.
It’s 34 years since the proprietor opened shop in Palmers Green, a run-down suburban neighbourhood that clings to the edge of the city. The building was formerly a cab office, which the previous owner burned down (he received a prison sentence for his efforts). Gentrification has similarly razed so much of the capital in the past three decades, but this shabby one-room shack, adorned with knick-knacks such as a battered, a Beatles-branded kids’ guitar and the yellowing newspaper that broke the news of John Lennon’s death, has clearly withstood worse.
Asked how he’s stayed in business so long, Burbidge cites his surprisingly stable and affordable rent, which he puts down to faith: “I am a Christian and I pray, and my church came and prayed in this place in 1990.”
Until then, he’d spent 20 years working for British Airways (via a stint as a Fleet Street darkroom manager in the swinging ‘60s, when he developed snaps of bands such as The Kinks). He was a rock’n roller—a member of the Eddie Cochran and Gene Vincent fan clubs, no less—and an avid collector, so friends would solicit him to procure records on their behalf. He’d traverse the city’s junk shops, as there were no second-hand record stores in London at the time. “[The records] were pennies,” he recalls. “I’d buy lots and make a little bit of pocket money. That’s how it started.”
When Burbidge left BA with a lump sum, he knew exactly what to do with his talent for sniffing out old vinyl. These days he’s helped out by his friend Justin, a younger record dealer who volunteers in the shop. “It keeps me off the streets,” Justin laughs. They mainly sell mid century R&B and rock’n roll to regular customers, who often leave phone numbers in case the duo comes across something to their taste. This is just as well, considering the cash-only Record Detective Agency has zero online presence, is only open a few hours each day, and isn’t exactly en route to the latest Instagram hotspot.
“I’ve got in my address book people that were here 30-odd years ago,” Burbidge says, smiling. “One of them, Mark, he used to sit his little daughter on there,” he gestures to the counter before him, “and I used to draw for her while he looked round. And now she’s married with two children. I’ve got a lot of those sorts of people.”
Independent record shops are, improbably, multiplying in recession-hit Britain. A recent report found that there are now 461 in the UK—figures not seen since Derek started business in the 1990s. In order to survive, however, many have diversified: Bradford’s Record Café boasts a charcuterie counter, while The Record Deck snakes along the canal system, bringing the party wherever it pulls up. These are extremes, though most places will serve you a decent flat white as you dig the crates. Burbidge is aware of the trend, but it’s not for him. “I used to sell CDs,” he offers, and then frowns a little at the memory: “I got rid of CDs.”
This reversal of fortunes for Britain’s indies has been partly attributed to Record Store Day, which launched in 2007. Once a year, the event sees labels produce limited editions of records that are only available to independents; the recent 2024 iteration offered a 12-inch of David Byrne covering Paramore’s ‘Hard Times’, for example. Predictably, you’ll find none of this at the Record Detective Agency, where everything is second-hand and nothing is even priced up, as Justin or Derek will give you a (fair) figure on the spot.
Burbidge made one concession to modernity when he allowed a film crew to shoot a fantasy movie in the store. The filmmakers behind the short, which is named after the shop and concerns a magical record, paid him approximately £500 to close up for the weekend (he waited in his car nearby to keep an eye on them). It’s been on YouTube for four years – but naturally Derek’s never seen it: “I don’t even know how to get on YouTube!”
He simply hopes that the place is “friendly”. The Record Detective Agency belongs to an old London that is sliding out of view, a shop where you can get a drink, but it’ll be instant coffee served in an old mug and you won’t have to pay. As Burbidge says: “I’ve just always done it my way.”
How do you find your records? Is it mainly people bringing them to you?
Derek Burbidge: Yeah, all the time. It is mostly people that have left home: “My son left these and he’s now living in America.” I say: “Are you sure he doesn’t want them? Give him a ring first.”
Is that based on bitter experience, by any chance?
Derek: We have had people who’ve sold us records and then suddenly somebody will come in and say, “They’ve sold my records!” – maybe two every five years. You try to be as accommodating as possible. You ask them to give you the money you gave [the seller], and that’s between them.”
What’s the rarest record you’ve sold?
Justin: The rarest one we ever had was a Michael Garrick 10-inch, Moonscape.
Derek: I think I sold it to someone very close to me… [Laughs.] No, Justin bought it. [A good copy is] worth £3,000 at the moment.
Justin: It was jumping all over the place. I paid Derek £350 or £400 and sold it at auction for £900. It’s jazz – jazz has to play well.
What’s the most expensive record in the store currently?
Derek: Wedding Album [by John Lennon and Yoko Ono] – that’s the original one of that.
How much does it cost?
Derek: £500? £400? I don’t have a price! I just go: “What do you wanna [pay]?”
Who is the most famous person you’ve had in your store?
Justin: If it was a central London store, you’d get a more cosmopolitan breed… It’s a provincial shop. We don’t get the cosmopolitan types that you would get in Islington.
What was your first concert?
Derek: The Rolling Stones, in 1964, at the Edmonton Granada. They weren’t top of the bill – it was [pop singers] John Leyton and Mike Sarne.
What’s your favourite album?
Derek: I have so many records that I just do not know. There’s so many great people. I tend to like slow R&B now, like Etta James, rather than the rockin’ stuff, which I heard so much as a youngster.
What’s your advice to anyone who wants to open a record store?
Justin: Don’t! [Laughs]
Derek: If you enjoy it, then do it, but don’t think you’re gonna start making money. If you do it for money, it’s probably harder work… You’ve got to have a lot of knowledge. It takes time.