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The 11 Best Cities for Record-Store Crate-Diggers Who Still Buy Vinyl

The best cities for record stores are where you can lose an afternoon in the bins and overweight your carry-on with vinyl. Here are eleven crate-digging cities, the neighborhoods to hit, and what each one's known for.

The best cities for record stores aren’t measured in how many shops they have. They’re measured in how easily you can lose a whole afternoon in the bins, fingers gone grey with sleeve dust, and then have to sit on your suitcase to get it shut at the airport. I’ve done that sit-on-the-suitcase thing in most of these cities. My back has opinions. My shelves have no regrets. Here are eleven where crate-digging is still a genuine sport.

Compact and easy to walk, which is dangerous when every other street in the Jordaan and De Pijp has a shop. The Dutch dig deep on jazz, soul, and Surinamese and Caribbean records you won’t find easily elsewhere. Spend a rainy afternoon, and Amsterdam gives you many, going bin to bin. Bring cash. The good small shops still prefer it.

Australia’s record city, no contest, with a dense run of shops through Fitzroy and the CBD laneways. The local scene is strong on garage rock, psych, and a surprising amount of rare Aussie pressings that command silly prices back home. Friendly counters, good coffee next door, and a willingness to let you flip for hours without the hard sell.

Grunge built it but the bins go way deeper, soul, jazz, Northwest indie pressings, and the kind of dollar crates that reward patience. The shops here have soul (the city basically runs on coffee and vinyl) and the staff actually know their stock. A great rainy-day city, which is convenient, because it is always a rainy day.

Small city, absurd number of record stores, some of them genuinely massive caverns where you could lose a day and most of your money. Portland over-indexes on indie, folk, and weird experimental pressings, and the staff lean knowledgeable-bordering-on-intimidating in the best way. Ask them what they’re spinning. You’ll leave with three things you didn’t plan on.

Country and Americana ground zero, obviously, but the deeper bins hide soul, gospel, and old Nashville session pressings that collectors travel for. The shops cluster around East Nashville, and several share space with bars or venues so you can dig, drink, and catch a set without moving the car. Efficient. I respect it.

Often overshadowed by Tokyo but the Osaka diggers will tell you, quietly, that the prices are better and the staff friendlier. Strong on funk, soul, and city pop, with shops crammed into multi-floor buildings in Amerikamura. The Japanese pressing quality is the real draw, immaculate vinyl, perfect sleeves, treated like religious artifacts. Which they sort of are.

Techno and electronic capital of the planet, so the bins reflect it, walls of 12-inch dance records, deep house, krautrock, and experimental stuff that doesn’t exist anywhere else. The shops in Kreuzberg and Friedrichshain often double as label HQs and ticket counters for that night’s gig. Dig at noon, dance at night, same record store. Hard to beat that loop.

Brooklyn especially, though Manhattan still hides gems if you know which staircases to climb. Every genre, every era, every price point, from dusty dollar crates to climate-controlled rooms holding records that cost more than my rent. The depth is the thing, you can find anything here if you’re willing to dig long enough and pay enough. Bring stamina and a budget you’ll blow through anyway.

The big, deep, endless one. From the legendary jazz and soul specialists in Soho to the Caribbean and reggae shops out in the east, London’s bins hold the history of about six genres that were partly invented here. The shops cluster enough that you can do a proper crawl on foot, ending sweaty and broke and very, very happy. The first time I dug London properly I had to buy a second bag at a charity shop just to carry the haul.

Detroit earns this on sheer significance. The city that gave the world Motown and then techno, and the record stores here are keepers of that double flame, soul, funk, and the deep electronic catalog, often sold by people who were in the room when it was made. The prices are fairer than the coasts and the knowledge runs generations deep. A pilgrimage city. Treat it like one.

Nowhere else is close. Tokyo has more record stores than any city on earth, stacked floor on floor in places like Shibuya and Shimokitazawa, each one hyper-specialized, this floor is jazz only, that one is soul 45s, that tiny one upstairs is just Brazilian pressings. The Japanese obsession with mint condition means the vinyl is pristine and the sleeves look unplayed. You can spend a week and not finish one neighborhood. It’s the only city where I’ve genuinely had to ship a box home rather than carry it. First place, easily, and the rest of the list knows it.

If I get one digging trip, where? Tokyo, without hesitation, it’s the deepest, cleanest, most over-stocked record city on the planet and you will run out of vacation before you run out of stores. But if you want history you can hold, with prices that won’t end your marriage, Detroit is the soulful underdog pick. Either way: dig the cheap crates first, pack a proper record bag, and accept now that you’re paying the overweight-baggage fee. You always do.

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