When you think of comedy gigs, a record store in a suburb out of the centre of Leeds doesn’t necessarily spring to mind as the most obvious setting on the face of things.
The Vinyl Whistle in Headingley though isn’t a standard record shop. Since moving to its new premises around the Covid period and particularly since Neil Westwater took on the ownership of it a couple of years or so ago, it’s become a staple as a community hub within the Headingley scene for students, locals, creatives, DJs and of course record buyers – and proves to be the perfect choice.
Events at the much-loved venue always have a really friendly, welcoming feel to them: strangers talk to each other and find common ground, all the staff encourage everyone to feel comfortable there. Be it the youngster who has just got their first turntable inspired by their ‘6 Music Dad’, or the more seasoned record collectors who pore over first pressings and rarities, it’s a second home for many of us.
Beers (plenty of other alcoholic and non-alcoholic drinks are available too) flowing courtesy of Kirkstall Brewery (keeping things as local as possible) help to bring a good atmosphere to things and it’s good to see that Alastair Clark is embracing this both before and after the show tonight, talking to people freely and enjoying the feel of the place, if not the heat!
When I speak to him prior to his performance, I can tell he is enthused by the shop and how it will exactly fit the vibe of what he envisaged when setting out on this project. Ideally, he wants a record shop that operates as a venue, not a venue attached to a record shop as a separate entity.
That makes sense in lots of ways. As he mentions in his set, he fell in to working at 81 Renshaw in Liverpool and ended up as assistant manager at the shop, being surrounded by vinyl all day and the characters and personalities that he encountered in his years there shape a lot of what On The Record is about, so it’s fitting that wherever he looks from the small stage he can see vinyl looking back at him.
Before we get to the hour-long main part of his set that spent a good stint at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival last year, he does a twenty-minute warm up set of other more standard material. It’s a sensible, economic decision to make for both the headliner and the venue to keep costs down.
It also allows us a glimpse into the man behind the jokes, as he covers various subjects from mental health, SAD Lamps, buying houses and weighted blankets, to an understandable angst with non-detachable bottle tops. It’s a pleasing opening and sets the tone well for the healthy crowd in the room. We also get to see his sharp off the cuff side, as he mentions “I’m getting heckled by the police now” as a car with blue lights and siren going full blast speeds past the shop.
That Impromptu wit returns in the main set, when he stops to question how the late teen and early twenties group of Otley ‘118’ runners even know about an advert that was on before they were born. Iit’s a fair point and he makes it well without overstepping into sneering at them.
The main set is all about his experiences of working in a record shop and while he does make reference to some very specific albums, genres and artists that would probably go over the head of a less music obsessed crowd, he also manages to make it a very accessible set and covers a number of themes within the stories and jokes he weaves together.
Somehow, across the set that features mentions of the likes of My Bloody Valentine and Nu Metal, we get Greek mythology, trauma, funerals and cancer in the mix and he still manages to come out with laughs at the end, not an easy feat to pull off for anyone.
While I definitely don’t want to give any obvious spoilers out here as he still has ambitions with the show to expand on next year if all goes well, I couldn’t review the gig without making mention of my personal highlight of the night. A section about Record Store Day involving Bob Dylan, it’s brilliantly delivered and genuinely is comedy gold. Unbeknown to the comedian, he also happens to have an ex-comedian, shop regular and proud owner of every Bob Dylan studio album sitting in the front row. While Billy clearly enjoyed that section for obvious reasons, it’s unanimously well received.
Owing to the niche subject matter it’s never going to be the type of performance that will fill arenas, but when we deal with art forms, popularity and sales of tickets aren’t always the best measure of success in my mind. Tonight, the measure is if the crowd and performer have enjoyed the show in equal measure in this intimate, homely setting and from talking to people afterwards that’s a resounding yes: insightful, funny and surprising. I’d say that’s a success.
Photography by Jazz Jennings.
