Alastair Clark is something of a hero among audiophiles. His show On The Record charts his decade-long stint as Assistant Manager at one of Liverpool’s premier independent record shops — a journey that takes him from coffee-counter rookie to seasoned gatekeeper of vinyl treasure. For anyone who’s ever rifled through the racks on a Saturday morning or queued overnight for Record Store Day, this is a love letter to the culture of vinyl that never tips into pure nostalgia.

He dives into the details with relish: the awkward confrontations when customers’ cherished collections turned out to be worthless, the delicate negotiations over sound quality, and the madness of Record Store Day with customers pulling increasingly absurd tactics to jump queues and secure the “vinyl motherlode.” A highlight comes in the form of a wonderfully absurd segment performed to Bob Dylan’s Subterranean Homesick Blues, as Clark flips picture discs and rare finds into rapid-fire lyrics, turning shop-floor memories into something close to performance art.

What gives the show its real heart, though, is the personal stuff threaded through the record nerdery. His muted but heartfelt support from his father — whose throwaway one-liners often double as unintentional pearls of wisdom — brings warmth to the hour (“Twat-nav” being a genuine highlight). There are riffs on the musical playlists we construct for funerals, and reflections on how music punctuates the milestones of life as much as it fills the background. He’s also unafraid to bring in the darker notes: referencing last year’s Edinburgh run, which tackled difficult subject matter and didn’t land as he hoped, not least thanks to some horribly insensitive feedback from people who should know better. Rather than dragging the mood, it adds a grit and honesty that make this show feel earned.

The structure itself is a neat trick. What starts as a lone, analogue voice in mono gradually swells into stereo, with comedy “instruments” layered one after the other until it resembles a full-band finish. It’s playful, smart, and quietly ambitious — the show grows in confidence as it goes, mirroring the rise in Clark’s own storytelling. By the end, you want to stick the needle back down and let it play from the top.

Clark has found his voice here. Yes, the record nerds will lap it up, but this is far more than a niche indulgence. He proves he can spin a story as well as any vinyl, handle heavier themes without buckling, and still leave the audience laughing and leaning in. A show that moves from B-side curiosity to greatest hit in the space of an hour.

****

Reviewed by Steve H

Venue : Slow Progress Cafe and Records

Time 14.00

Until date 24th Aug