What might not have been appreciated, because it was so familiar, was the design classic that came along with the record. In the middle, was a label, which gave you the information about the song, the band, the composer, the length, the year and a host more information that now partly determines the value of these historical artifacts. All labels were not the same. They came in different colours. RCA was orange. Polydor was red. Mercury was black. Etcetera etcetera.
But those labels didn't just identify the record company. They effectively identified the band as well. When I started buying records, that orange RCA label was synonymous initially with The Sweet; Chinn/Chapman pop on the a side, with a hard rock b side. It was later usurped by the emergence of a certain Mr David Bowie (the sight of Rebel Rebel on original label still excites). Other bands had their own colours. The Faces were light green Warner Bros, Slade were red Polydor, and, before they adopted the apple, The Beatles were black Parlophone.
I remember going to a friend's house when I was very young and seeing a pile of records, with an empty Who's Next sleeve on the top. What really caught my eye was the record on the turntable, emblazoned with the legend "Track record". That logo was one of the coolest things I had ever seen. I wanted my own record with "Track record" on it. I was to own many later.
There were tribal loyalties associated with a record label. If you were a Jam fan, you were familiar with Polydor (they were the successors to Slade on that label). For The Clash it was CBS. And, if you had an array of records on Tamla Motown or (even cooler) Stax, it marked you out as a sweet soul music connoisseur, along with the Harrington jacket, Fred Perry and pair of sta prest you probably owned as well.
Some bands changed their labels. From the classic Fly of Electric Warrior, T Rex launched their own label, with a red silhouette of Marc Bolan and a blue background, one of the design classics of the era in my view. Similarly Led Zeppelin left Atlantic and launched Swan Song when they released Physical Graffiti. And the Stones left Decca in 1970 to form their own label on WEA and then EMI, giving a generation of second hand record buyers the thrill of finding early records like Satisfaction on blue Decca and the later material on the equally identifiable yellow label of their own imprint. I do love the design on the albums from Sticky Fingers onwards. All on the classic yellow label but with a different logo or typeset to identify the individual album.
But labels were initially experienced as a primarily singles phenomenon (largely because the financial income of the adolescent back then did not stretch to large numbers of albums) especially in the days before punk, when pic sleeves became the norm. In that sense, they were every bit as important as the sleeve design. The tribes that then made up youth culture could in part be defined by the labels on the records they bought. It is not too great an exaggeration to claim that, if your collection consisted mainly of records on Harvest or Chrysalis, you were a different social beast from those who owned primarily Trojan or Buddah. Of course, of you had records on a multitude of those labels, you were one of those rare beasts, a music lover with genuinely eclectic taste.
And the late seventies threw everything into the mix. Chris Blackwell's promotion of roots reggae on Island exposed a generation to new influences, the effect of which was hugely positive. Richard Branson was close behind on Virgin. Everyone should listen to The Front Line which was released in 1976. One if the greatest compilations ever made. From The Mighty Diamonds to The Gladiators and beyond.
Then came the independents, which introduced a new element. The likes of Rough Trade, Stiff and Small Wonder allowed a host of hitherto undiscovered bands to break through. Helped along the way by journalists at the NME and other clued up elements of the music press, along, in no small part, to the work of a certain John Peel.
It all got a bit messed up in the eighties when record companies seemed to want to have a unique design for certain records. And the emergence of cd ended the importance of the label. Perhaps the last label of the old kind in mass circulation was Creation.
There are of course identifiable imprints today. Acid Jazz is a classic example. That logo is as easily recognisable as Track records was and evokes a similar feeling. New labels, such as Heavy Soul, are also emerging.
But the days of owning a multitude of new records on readily identifiable labels have gone. It's a shame. There was a definite identification of the label and the loyalties evoked were tribal.
I love labels. I loved them when I first got into music all those years ago. I love them now, standing round and sorting through boxes in a dusty second hand record shop. I love the different colours, the information that is contained in them, the little bit of handwriting, often the name of the owner, that might have been added. I like to think of the hands they have passed through, from original sixties mods or hippies, to punks or indie kids, the social history that is etched on them. That they are the true artifacts of the age in which we grew up.
I love the feeling when you find something unexpected. Outside View by Eater. Eddie And The Hot Rods Live At The Marquee. A Small Faces French ep. It makes you keep looking for the holy grail. An original Zoot Suit/I Am The Face by The High Numbers. A copy of God Save The Queen on A&M that someone might just happen to have mislaid (some hope). An Ideal For Living by Joy Division. I've never found any of them and I'm never likely to. But it doesn't stop you looking, does it.
You just don't get that with a digital download.