Derek Brook and Earthquake, the accidental record shop


 This is Derek Brook, accidental record shop manager. 

From 1976 for seven years,  the doorway of Earthquake records was the threshold of a scene. Blissed-out West Coast psych imports rubbed against the first spitty shrapnel shards of punk.  Behind its counter - scrounged from a Rawlinson Street Chippy - Derek would sniff at your requests,  get you to an all dayer at  Knebworth to hear something better, and flog you his Vindicator fanzine to read on the coach.

Derek gave me a morning and told me the story of the shop. Born out of a need to do something -anything-  for a year while waiting to do a Uni research project on footy hooliganism, Earthquake was different: it was open when everyone else was shut; it recognised  that you might want to actually hear records before you paid for them, and it understood that local scenes need a place to coalesce, a home-made place, built from the ground up  where a small town's 2 Captain Beefheart fans can meet, stand around, and, maybe, buy something. 

As well as the coach trips to gigs, Earthquake promoted local bands at the Labour Club and the Civic Hall. Derek's archive - a carrier bag in a box - is a time capsule of roneo-ed ephemera, lyric sheets, zines, gig flyers, reels of tape and film, gorgeous concert posters and "back in five minutes" signs.

Earthquake has been closed for 40 years but, says Derek, there's rarely a week when someone doesn't mention it. Its former customers talk of it with enormous affection; right place, right time. As long as you didn't try to buy a Buggles single. 

Here are a few items from the Brook Collection, including John Duffin's painting of Earthquake. Look out for the interview as part of our Into The Music end product in the summer.

Thanks Derek.








 

 

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