Walking into a charity shop in any town or city in the UK, you’ll often find yourself greeted by the familiar sight of a dusty box filled with vinyl records, wedged between second-hand clothing and well-thumbed paperbacks. At first glance, this might seem like a treasure trove for music lovers, a potential goldmine of rare LPs waiting to be discovered. But scratch a little deeper, and you’ll see that the situation is far more complicated.

The Nostalgic Appeal of Vinyl

Vinyl records are enjoying a renaissance. After years in the wilderness of forgotten media, streaming's dominance has only heightened the allure of the physical, analog format. Young people today are collecting records again, not just for the music but for the tactile experience—the artwork, the ritual of placing a needle onto a spinning disc, the warm sound that feels more authentic than a digital file could ever hope to be. Artists like Taylor Swift, Arctic Monkeys, and Lana Del Rey all contribute to vinyl's new golden age, with their albums being pressed onto wax and eagerly snapped up by younger generations.

This vinyl revival, however, stands in stark contrast to what’s lurking in charity shops across the country.

A Surplus of Forgotten Sounds

Spend any time rummaging through the record selection in a typical charity shop, and you'll soon realise the same titles keep cropping up. Dusty old albums by Mantovani, Herb Alpert and the Tijuana Brass, or Andy Williams’ Christmas classics—artists beloved by an older generation but of little interest to modern vinyl enthusiasts. These records, often donated after elderly relatives pass away, are stacked in piles, representing a bygone era of listening habits. Once upon a time, these LPs provided the soundtrack to family get-togethers, dinner parties, and lazy Sunday afternoons. Now, they lie untouched, unwanted.

The issue isn't just nostalgia—it's supply and demand. For every crate of “easy listening” or Tom Jones' Delilah, there might be one hidden gem: a David Bowie Ziggy Stardust album or The Beatles' Sgt. Pepper. But more often than not, those rare finds don’t make it to the shop floor.

Cherry-Picked Treasures

One of the growing concerns among record hunters is that charity shops are no longer the haven for hidden gems they once were. Employees or volunteers may be cherry-picking quality records, with the most valuable items finding their way onto eBay or Discogs, where they can command higher prices. In an increasingly online world, charities have wised up to the fact that rare or collectible vinyl can fetch a small fortune in the resale market. In doing so, they unintentionally leave behind stacks of records that no one wants.

It makes financial sense for charities to maximise profits for their causes by selling high-value items online, but it leaves in-store customers sifting through what can only be described as the "vinyl graveyard" of unwanted tunes. Record enthusiasts are left disappointed, and the stock remains stagnant.

The Case for Change

Should charity shops continue to stock vinyl records? For many, the answer is no. The vast majority of what comes in has little to no resale value, and it can clog up valuable space that could be better used for items with more turnover potential—clothes, books, and bric-a-brac. Instead of being known for musty bins of unloved vinyl, charity shops could focus on other high-margin items, embracing the trends of the day rather than relics of the past.

Moreover, handling records requires more care than other donations. Vinyl needs proper storage to avoid warping, the sleeves often arrive in poor condition, and pricing can be difficult without proper knowledge of the market. Charity shops already struggle with staffing and managing inventory; adding this level of detail to the process could be more trouble than it's worth. For a small charity shop in a high street location, selling vinyl is not as simple as it sounds.

A Place for Vinyl

However, there is still a compelling argument to be made for charity shops to continue selling records. Vinyl enthusiasts might sift through a hundred copies of Nana Mouskouri’s greatest hits, but there is always that dream—the moment when they unearth a first-pressing of Led Zeppelin IV or a rare jazz LP that had been overlooked. For these hobbyists, the thrill of the hunt is as rewarding as the discovery itself. Charity shops provide one of the few affordable ways for collectors to grow their libraries without breaking the bank.

Additionally, for older customers or those with nostalgia for a specific era, the value of these records goes beyond mere financial worth. To someone who grew up listening to Engelbert Humperdinck, seeing an old album in a charity shop could evoke memories of youth, family, and simpler times. Vinyl records, in this sense, have an emotional connection for people, and charity shops provide access to this bit of history at a time when new vinyl pressings are often prohibitively expensive.

Finally, many charity shops have strong local ties. They serve not only as places to buy and donate but as community hubs. Selling vinyl—no matter how niche—could encourage more customers to visit, donate, and engage with the cause. And while profits from a dusty Frank Sinatra compilation may be minimal, the community presence and footfall they generate can still be valuable.

The Verdict: To Stock or Not to Stock?

Ultimately, the question of whether charity shops should continue to sell vinyl records comes down to pragmatism versus passion. From a practical perspective, the argument is clear: most of the records they receive will not sell, and the energy spent cataloguing and storing them could be better directed towards more lucrative items. In today’s increasingly digital marketplace, it’s hard to see how charity shops can compete with online platforms that offer a more targeted approach for rare records.

But vinyl isn’t just about the money. It’s about memory, history, and culture. And as long as there are a few people willing to rifle through crates of forgotten records in search of hidden gems, charity shops will continue to play their part in keeping that spirit alive—even if it means the occasional box of Mantovani sitting there a little longer than it should.

So, should charity shops keep stocking vinyl? The answer, perhaps, lies not in the quality of the records themselves but in the community they serve. For some, the experience is more than just buying music—it’s about reconnecting with a past that might otherwise be lost.