Hull's main store for many years was Sydney Scarborough (disappeared about 10 years ago?).
Always advertised at the local cinema as under "The City Hall". Upstairs was more refined and the lower floor was where you could buy "coloured vinyl singles and picture discs". Roland Gift (pre Fine Young Cannibals days) was frequently seen there in the late 70s. Bought my first two singles there - Part of The Union by The Strawbs and Four In The Morning by Faron Young (a present for my mother honestly). Sadly now a coffee bar.
Went through a phase of selling remarkably cheap "Spanish manufactured" records which were of dreadful quality.

as buying an actual vynyl record that has changed. I used to go to my local Woolworths or W H Smith and I have fond memories of that. Downloading from I Tunes or even buying a CD just isn't the same.

I was in a very nice emporium in Whitby today. He flogged me the latest Tinariwen.

http://www.folkdevils.co.uk/

Use it or lose it.

I would say the 90% of new releases these days come out on at least a limited run of Vinyl. Record Shops are still out there, no matter how much the Spotify and Apple evangelists would wish them gone.
See my earlier post:
http://www.wordmagazine.co.uk/content/re-imagining-record-shops

In its original guise, no shopfront, just a door that led down a narrow passageway to a single room.

"Import" albums on one wall, second hand albums on another. Sleeves only - if you wished to purchase, you took the sleeve to the counter - the proprietor would fetch the relevant album from the racks behind, proffering the disc for your inspection. If suitably scratch-free, the album was yours.

There was an upstairs room as well but I never dared venture up there - it was the preserve of the many 'heads' who frequented the establishment and it smelt 'a bit funny'.

Even now, thirty-odd years on, I can get a Proustian rush from the faint smell of patchouli that still clings to the inner sleeves of many of my albums.

During the early 70's, in the town I grew up in (Brixham in Devon) there were three record shops. One was primarily an electrical store whose main trade came from selling stereos, televisions and Hoovers and sold the top 20 and a few albums more as a way of encouraging sales of the above stereos than as a service to the discerning music lover. The other was Woolies and the last was even more frustrating but for some reason I preferred it immensely.

Based at the foot of one of the steepest hills in Christendom, so steep it provided the brave climber with actual handrails, St Paul’s Sports (now long gone) was not much bigger than a phone box and sold everything for the serious fly fisher, tennis player and murderer of small woodland creatures. The owners are probably in the dictionary under the word ‘eccentric’ and resembled none other than Johnny and Fanny Cradock, the first real celebrity TV chefs. Maybe its just wishful thinking but I’m sure the husband wore a monocle, but I know for sure he was always resplendent in a regimental blazer and cravat come rain or shine. Despite appearances, he was ‘down’ with us kids and stocked the most obscure collection of discs which he would pull conspiratorially from under the tiny counter in a manner more suited to a Soho pornographer.

St Paul’s Sports was the school lunch break hangout spot of choice for David Harris, Kevin Pritchard and yours truly, undoubtedly the coolest dudes in a town that wouldn’t know cool from a hole in the ground(we thought at the time). Money designated for school dinners would more often than not find its way into The Majors (as we called him) cash register and lunch would be 10p’s worth of yesterdays cakes from the bakery around the corner as we breathlessly scaled the hill on the way back to school, proudly clutching our purchases in their brown paper bags and dreaming up new ways to smuggle them into our respective houses.

in Sheffield, just off the Moor - run by the eponymous owner, a remarkably sprightly elderly lady (or so she seemed back then) who had an all encompassing knowledge of pop and rock, and where you could snag a few vinyl bargains of LPs with no covers (for some unexplained reason).

I think Rare and Racy still exists on Division Street, a place where the wild haired guys who worked there invariably play(ed) free jazz, a mad honking/clanking cacophony interspersed with pinteresque moments of silent menace as you waited for the next aural assault.

Happy days.

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Last-Shop-Standing-Whatever-Happened/dp/09561212...

http://www.lastshopstanding.co.uk/page002.html

For the record, I used to frequent Reidy's in Blackburn. They tried to keep up with the supermarkets by selling fairly cheap new CDs but they coudn't compete. They only sell instruments now.

In Porthmadog has a magical air about it. Shabby, smelling of damp and absolutely, completely and utterly wonderful.

www.cobrecords.com

Become a bit of a tourist attraction, to the point that I am sure last time I was there I saw a street sign with directions to it.

Moving out of Hull I would have to add Track Records in York (who were also in Doncaster). Varied selection of music, good prices and knowledgeable staff. A visit to York is no longer quite the same without it being there.

If you ever have the misfortune to be in Yeovil, try Acorn Records, in the shopping centre ( bottom of escalators ). Nice staff, fairly varied choices and good prices. I occasionaly have to venture into that town for work related purposes, and Acorn is the place to wait for the bus straight back out.