The story of the great vinyl purge

I've mentioned the Great Vinyl Purge numerous times in my blog, mostly because I like the word "purge" and how dramatic it all sounds. But I've never shared the details of it with anyone. Seeing as some of you may have been reading my blog for almost 5 years, I feel I owe an explanation. I guess everyone has a similar story, millions of vinyl collections have been sold, especially in the 90's. Lack of interest, lack of money, lack of space, whatever. But this is my particular story: I started building my collection as a first-year student back in '88. I did have a few records before that, but I wasn't really into collecting. Entry into one of the good schools in Athens, crucially near the family home, was rewarded with a steady allowance, a relatively generous one for Greek standards of the time. Enough in any way to live the "student life" as it was called: give or take 8 months of partying per year plus 4 months of burying yourself in books trying to make up for all the lessons you missed while partying. Being a moderate drinker and a non-smoker (God, the money my friends spent on cigarettes!) I could also afford a couple of LPs per week. By the time I finished University and the ensuing 18-month compulsory military service, my collection had surpassed the 1000-record mark. But it stayed in my suburban parents' house while I as a young professional kept moving from one small city appartment to the next. I got into the habit of repurchasing my favorite records on CD. Easier to listen to at my portable home stereo or in the car while driving to work. And of course I went on buying new CD's at an increasing rate, though I stopped buying vinyl sometime in the late 90's. Then at 2004 a happy event set the wheels of the great vinyl purge in motion: my beloved nephew was born. My parents and sister switched houses, and my old bedroom which had been vacant for years became the baby's room. I packed my stereo and a few boxes of vinyl to take with me, but most of them had to be left behind since there was no place in my apartment. I kept most of my garage-rock records, because I prefer to listen to that music on vinyl, and because I've always thought of them as collectible. But their value hasn't increased that much, at least compared to more recent 90's stuff. I mean even albums by mainstream bands like Oasis or Cranberries are among my most valuable LP's now. Who could have guessed they'd be collectors' items some time? I would have thought they'd be ubiquitous, but it seems most of the world had given up on vinyl before I did, so these albums sold massively in CD form but minimally in vinyl. Well, I sold crates of that stuff for an average 2€ per piece, together with more obscure alt-rock bands from the same period who hadn't stood the test of time for me but whose albums are quite rare now. Mostly, and to my great regret, I sold the stuff I had twice (meaning both on vinyl and CD form) and those included my favorite records. I had an almost perfect vinyl collection of all the "essential" classics. I sold near mint copies of the complete discographies of The Beatles, Led Zeppelin, Doors,  Cream. Almost complete discographies by Deep Purple, Rolling Stones, Bob Dylan, Neil Young (almost, because I didn't own everything by them twice) as well as The Clash, Ramones, Joy Division, Smiths, Cure etc. Even though they were never rare and there must still be large quantities of them around, everybody wants to own the classics on vinyl, which means they're now worth 10 to 20 times more than what they brought me then. Some rarities by Greek rock bands, from 60's pop stars Poll to early punk rockers Stress, did bring me a pretty penny. But, although the Great Vinyl Purge did pay the rent for a few months, It wasn't about the money. No, this was the proverbial senseless massacre. As the survivors often say, it's all a bit hazy. I couldn't tell why I ended up keeping certain records and selling certain others. Even now I'm constantly surprised to discover which albums I miss and can't fathom why or remember when I sold, say, The Chills' Brave Words. Or, worse yet, Rain Dogs, one of my favorite records ever. I didn't even have it twice, and can't possibly have sold it, but where is it? Only last month I found out I didn't have a vinyl copy of either "Never Mind The Bollocks" or Nirvana's "Nevermind". I could have swore they survived the purge despite having them on CD just because I was so fond of their cover art, and that I took them with me to The Netherlands. I'm slightly ashamed to admit that I did what I until recently mocked and went out and re-bought these records that I used to own. More about that embarassing new habit later.