The single was the mainstay of the teenager’s musical diet, but what magic is held within those grooves?

There’s something uniquely satisfying about the single. Whether it’s the good old 7-inch spinning at 45RPM or the more indulgent 12-inch (also mostly spinning at 45RPM, though sometimes at 33RPM), singles hold a special place in my heart and my collection. And I’m buying more 12” singles these days than I am albums. 

In a world where streaming has made playlists infinite and albums (for some) seem to be a bit optional, the single remains a physical reminder of music’s immediacy, though I’d still argue that a well crafted album is a wonderful thing to sit and listen to in its entirety. Singles are a moment captured in vinyl, a distillation of an artist’s vision into just a few minutes of plastic – the artist has to think about how they pack what they are trying to say into a very short period of time given the format’s constraints. And for audiophiles, crate-diggers, and anyone who’s ever excitedly flipped through the racks at a record shop, there’s nothing quite like it. 

THE 7”

The 7-inch single has long been the weapon of choice for pop hits, punk blasts, and indie gems – you don’t really see classical music on 7” singles for obvious reasons. 7” singles are compact, are collectible, and they deserve talking about. Unlike an album, which allows for getting deep into the whole vibe an artist is trying to create, the 7-inch is all about instant impact and instant sonic gratification. Put the needle on the record, and within seconds, you’re in the thick of it—no long intros, no filler, just a punch of music that often defines an era. I’ve a friend who collects Northern Soul singles (would the movement exist without the 7” single?) and I’d love for her to share her enthusiasm for this format with you all at some point – you up for it, Christine? 

There’s something undeniably engaging about how a 7-inch single forces you to interact with it. Play the A-side, then flip it over—because the B-side might just be a hidden masterpiece. The Jam’s Butterfly Collector is a case in point, but there are hundreds more gems on B sides that many will have missed having just played the hit. 

And then, before you know it, you’re reaching for another single to play, perhaps even before the last track has finished – it’s addictive and once you start, it’s hard to stop. I recall “Singles Nights” (not the dodgy singles nights touted by the Roxy and Limelight clubs that were little more than pick up joints), where we’d “organise” a big pile of singles and work through them one after the other. Of course, the drink would flow, there’d be dancing, and the aftermath would be a mess of a living room, and no doubt some casualties amongst the vinyl – a salute to those who fell for the cause. To misquote Hunter S. Thompson, “There is nothing in the world more helpless and irresponsible and depraved than a man in the depths of a 7” single binge, and I knew we’d get into that wonder-stuff pretty soon.”

I also recall my first record player, a dodgy Dansette kind of affair with the tall spindle and stabilising arm that meant you could stack several singles on top of each other and have them drop down in turn and with an alarming clunk onto the platter. Perhaps this was the first kind of the playlist, though given the damage that it must have done to the records it’s not something I’d recommend doing now. 

We used to live in the flats above the various pubs my folks had, and the source of the vast majority of my 7” singles came off the jukebox man – the fella that came round every week to change the records on the jukebox. Of course, the records I got were not in the best of shape having had what could pass for a knitting needle dragged through their grooves, and I had to buy (or have bought at that age) the little spindles that would fill the large hole in the middle of the records – jukebox records didn’t have the little spindle holes – but I loved getting home from school to see what tunes I’d been left. I still recall the labels  on the record and I still call some of the singles – What Are You Doing Sunday Baby (I Want To Marry You) by Tony Orlando and Dawn on the Bell label, the RAK label for some reason had a yacht on the ocean as its logo…  

I’m pretty sure it wasn’t the first single I bought but I do recall the cover of C’mon Everybody by Sid Vicious and the Vicious burger on the front of the cover, though most of the singles I had had either no covers or generic paper sleeves.

I’ve mentioned John Peel a few times in these “Thought” pieces, and recall him playing Teenage Kicks by the Undertones on 7” several times in one show and hailing it as the perfect pop record, to the point he had the lyrics engraved on his tombstone. Actually, the truth is that I likely never actually heard that show (though I was an avid listener to his output), but even if I wasn’t ‘there’, it’s one of those stories that gets retold so often that it feels like you were there – there’s a magic in those three minutes.

I go to second hand shops a fair bit and there’s always a box or five of 7” singles showing various states of use and abuse, but it seems that no one seems to want them. And perhaps they don’t want them because they represent a specific moment in time and that “pop” moment has been and gone. Whatever, despite costing pennies, they mostly seem to languish untouched and unloved.

THE 12”

While the 7-inch single is all about immediacy, the 12-inch is about immersion, though (perhaps) less so than an album. Originally designed to give DJs and dance floors a better-quality pressing, the 12-inch single soon became a format in its own right. With more space for grooves, the sound quality takes a jump forward—bass is just better, dynamics work better, and extended mixes transform a song into an experience, especially on the dance floor where you can get lost in the music. Of all the various formats of vinyl and whatever an album’s audiophile aspirations (bar some albums redone over several 12” plates that play at 45RPM), there is no doubt in my mind that the 12” single is by far the best sounding format – i’d liken it to the difference of reel-to-reel that plays at 7.5IPS and 15IPS. 

For those who love to get lost in sound, the 12-inch is a revelation. Whether it’s a sprawling dub version that’s often whacked on the B-side of a 12”, an alternate mix, or an extended intro that builds the anticipation before is properly “goes off”, the 12-inch single is an invitation to go deeper and get deeper on the dance floor. In the hands of a good DJ, it’s a tool to move the floor; for a collector, it’s a treasure if you can find the right pressing. Of all of the formats I now buy, the12” single (and a growing number of 10” singles) make up around 80% of my purchases. Back in the day I’d often buy two copies of a 12” to keep a great tune going for ages – but back then I’d play (literally) all night at parties and folks would get lost in the tunes. 

The seminal12” single would be hard to pinpoint, but in my collection I’d rate Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love” (God, I LOVE that record and even played it as part of a presentation I did at High End Munich a couple of years back) and New Order’s “Blue Monday”, though, for my sins, I prefer the Hardfloor remix of this tune. 

WHY THE SINGLE STILL MATTERS…TO ME

In an age where music is everywhere, always available, and often disposable, the single reminds us that a song can be a statement, though I suppose it could be argued that the single is also “disposable”. A 7-inch or 12-inch record isn’t just a track—it’s a physical thing, pressed with care (though there are some stories about the growing number of bad presses coming out of factories, whatever the cost of the vinyl or its high production value pretensions), released with intention, and waiting to be played, not just shuffled into the unknown depths of an algorithm.

For those who love music in its most tangible form, the single remains a thrill that I still love to feel.

Do you still play or collect singles? Let us know, and join the conversation over on social media. 

Stuart Smith