Passion, Creativity and Capitalism: Refelections on the words of Peter Blake

The Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band cover was created by Peter Blake and his then-wife Jann Haworth and won a Grammy Award for Best Album Cover. An iconic cover for an iconic album which I have listened to a lot recently (on a later, non-expensive pressing.)

As I sat this Wednesday morning, reading the Observer magazine (that's right I sometimes start my Sunday paper on a Wednesday - I'm not ashamed), I was struck by the very last line of an interview with Sir Peter Blake:

 "Wherever I go there are men waiting for me with square plastic bags full of records for me to sign. They'll ask you to sign something then whip out four albums - Sgt Pepper, Paul Weller. I know they'll go straight on eBay."

At first, and despite Sir Peter's apparent acceptance of this, I felt deflated and very sad. What kind of world is this whereby we will stalk an artist for the sterling value of his signature?

What has happened to the impossible but irresistible notion of art and creativity being somehow above the drudgerous capitalist machine?

But I can be a bit dramatic like that.

Then I began to look at this in the context of my own activities over the last 12 months and indeed my aspirations.

Just over a year ago, I started collecting records. I am what I have coined 'a talentless creative'. I have the passion, the love, the energy and the will to create. It's just that my creative output has typically been rather shit.

Listening to records, finding them, admiring the sleeves, researching them, handling them and talking about them to my friends (who, no doubt are too polite to let their utter boredom slip), is an outlet for my passion for music.

Then a few months back I saw a joblot of records on Gumtree. Most of the collection wasn't my cup of tea but there were a few real gems in there. After some quick mental maths I figured the price of the joblot was only a few quid more than I would have paid for the gems at a record shop anyway and so I bought it.

Peter Blake's cover for Paul Weller's Stanley Road

I loved my handful of new records, purred over them even, while I tried to ignore the 140 others in the corner that I really didn't want.

I tried eBay, it was horrendously expensive for a seller.

I tired listing them back on Gumtree and the magic started happening. People were calling me and chatting about the music and the LPs. How they'd discovered this or that, amusing anecdotes about when they'd first found something on record. I was in my element.

Then eventually the timewasters and non-turner-uppers got to me so I turned to Discogs. Those who know me know that I love learning a new skill and learning how to grade records was an utter joy to me.

In short, I have learnt I love selling records as well as collecting them.

It appeals to some of my other sensibilities too. I like the idea of keeping these things in use. Treating them half as artefacts of a time where you physically held your music and it didn't only exist in a non-real space called 'the cloud' or some nonsense like that. And in equal measure, treating them as a toy, to be used and listened to. I mean who cares if you are dancing around in your nightie with a cigarette and a splash of your large gin and tonic lands onto side A? Some records are rare and precious, some just need to be diverted from landfill and enjoyed.

But for the ones I sell, I enjoy improving them - I tenderly clean them with my special cloth, I carefully glue gatefolds and replace shoddy innersleeves with nice new ones. My business model is to take something worth 'X' and make it better so it is now worth 'Y'. Trust me the margins are very small.

At the moment I use the cash to further indulge my hobby, but I aspire to one day have a music shop. Finally a way for this talentless music aficionado to make a living from music.

So would I ask an artist to sign a record intended for resale? Yes.

Would I also relish every second of that experience? Talking to the artist about their work? Enjoying the interaction with with one of those successful creative types I admire? Regaling the story to the eventual customer? Yes. I would revel in every second. Because that's exactly the kind of escapade that would let me know I was doing something I love with my life.

So maybe I shouldn't be sad. Whether the records end up on eBay or not, they will mean a lot to the people who end up buying them.

And rest assured Sir Peter, if I had my copy of Sgt Pepper signed by you it would be strictly 'not for sale'.

And I would kiss you on both cheeks.