Heart of a Punk Soul of a Rasta

The Last Record Shops of Engand (Part 9)

Mr Tee's Records
65 Blackwell Street
Horsefair
Kidderminster
DY10 2EL

WARNING! Only those amongst you who have read Joseph Conrad's tale of disintegration and madness "Heart of Darkness", or have watched Francis Ford Coppola's "Apocalypse Now" should venture here.

Firstly you must "tek" a barge up the Staffordshire and Worcester "cut" to Kiddie. That's Kidderminster (in case you didn't know). Here you will not find civilisation, just the dirty periphery of something that apes it. Strange beings, almost human in form dwell here. Beings whose children are born with their hands firmly stuffed into the pockets of their tracky bottoms. Beings who attempt to communicate using a pitiful array of moanings and wailings. I've been told, by men of high learning, that sometimes, by chance or coincidence, something intelligible can be perceived from their yap. Noises like "rrr yam rite me bab" accompanied by a nodding of the head can mean that these strange folk are in agreement with you. But I think nought of such fancies. I say pay no heed to these intellectuals of the anthropomorphic; and pay no heed to the innocent inhabitants of Kidderminster. Push past there clawing beseeching hands and make your way to the edge of the town. There you will find Mr Tee's Records, and the HORROR.

The ill fitting door that greets you will remain partly ajar until the crack of doom, it should really bear the epithet "abandon hope all that enter here" or at the very least "abandon hope all you anal retentives that enter here". But then that might give the game away. Ignore my warnings, get yourself in.

Once inside, it will become immediately apparent to you that Mister Tee's is a world leader in many ways. It's definitely the tattiest and most dishevelled record shop in Western Europe. It's also the undisputed champion, and consistent winner of the prestigious accolade: "Most Jumbled and Down Right Messy Record Shop in the World" - an award given by Gramophone, apparently. It has the biggest stock of badges north of the St Gothard Pass and probably has the largest stock of vinyl records, tapes, CD's of any record shop in the known universe. I say probably, because it's absolutely impossible for anyone to be categorical about this, after all the shop is totally bereft of any kind of cognitive cataloguing. Stuff is everywhere! Clothes, T shirts, ephemera, jokes and costumes all add to the confusion. Mr Tee's is not simply a record shop; it's also an intangible, unquantifiable, ever expanding treasure trove of sound. A man could easily loose his reason here.

I love this place. It is "The Greatest Record Shop in the World", and while it is still with us and displaying its wares in such a higgledy piggledy horrific way, England shall always be free! Free to defiantly hold up two figures to the dry soulless antiseptic emporiums like Piccadilly Records in Manchester. Free to shout out "Look on my works, ye Mighty, and rejoice!" for this is the true way, and the way it should be.

One day Mr Tee's will be removed lock stock and owner, and placed it in the Black Country Museum. The general public will be asked to contribute to the exhibit with stories and memories of the shop. When this day comes I will come forward with the simple request, that on death, if not before, I should be stuffed and embalmed by the tribe of Kiddie (using a blend of Tenants Super and Wilko's White Spirit). Then mounted (thank you) and inserted into the Museum exhibit as a representation of a simple soul who once journeyed into the Heart of Darkness and came face to face with the HORROR!

Experience Mr Tee's for yourself, today!