Tomorrow is Record Store Day and to celebrate we’re offering 20% off vinyl throughout April. Find out more here. Here, our music specialists (and vinyl enthusiasts) each share a record that made them sit up and take notice.

Live at Max’s Kansas City by The Velvet Underground

This reissue captures the final, brilliant moments of the Velvets; by this stage they’d cast off the atonal experiments of the first two records and were writing straight up, smart pop songs. The recording was a pure chance occurrence, too. A crowd member switched on her portable tape recorder and caught what would be Lou Reed’s final, exhausted show with VU.

– Michael Skinner

No Other by Gene Clark

This 1974 album from Gene Clark came to my attention via a column in the Age called the Crate. (This column would select under-appreciated albums for reappraisal.) I vaguely knew that Gene Clark had been a member of the Byrds in the 60s, but I hadn’t know any of his solo music until I bought No Other. What struck me about this release was the otherworldly sound – a mixture of country, folk and RnB that was nothing I’d ever heard before. Even the cover was from a different era – a 1920s collage. This record is timeless.

– Michael Awosoga-Samuel

For How Much Longer Do We Tolerate Mass Murder? by The Pop Group

This album flew too low for my radar at the time of its release in 1980 (gimme a break, I was only 9) and I did not discover it until a decade later. Musically it’s located somewhere in the post-punk nebula which is home to Liquid Liquid, Gang of Four and Talking Heads. The Pop Group’s frenetic, stabbing guitar and wandering funky bass lines over polyrhythmic drums may be common to the aforementioned, but their record goes beyond this terrain and into free-jazz adventurism with reggae motifs – all the while lyrically screeching and growling from beneath the boot heel of Thatcherism. Plus… The third track, ‘One out of many’, features a collaboration with rap legends The Last Poets. Somehow it all remains cohesive, authentic and jarringly fresh.

36 years later the good people at Freaks R Us have seen fit to reissue this remarkable recording on vinyl with a bonus 7” of ‘We are all prostitutes’. Buy it now or wait another 36 years.

– Roland Bisshop

Deutsche Elektronische Musik: Volume One by Soul Jazz Records

I first heard this album when my housemate played it one weekend. It’s a collection of German electronic music from the 1970s and early 1980s. The distinctive sound immediately caught my attention and I’ve listened to it several times since. It’s unexpectedly joyful, and a pleasure to sink into. I still find it hard to explain quite what the music is like to other people, and perhaps that’s what makes this record so memorable and exciting.

– Bronte Coates

Up To Anything by The Goon Sax

I didn’t own any vinyl until last year, when I moved into a house that had a player, and was gifted a few records. The problem is, owning a few records is impossible – once you have three or four, you suddenly need 50. So I’m slowing building a collection by starting with some classics and occasionally splurging on some new releases.

However the one record that is constantly on repeat in our house is Up To Anything, the debut album from Brisbane teen trio The Goon Sax. These charmingly self-deprecating songs are all complete gems. As the Guardian said, listening to this record makes me feels like I’m ‘living inside a great Australian coming-of-age movie’. Their lyrics are maudlin (my favourite kind) but their music makes me so happy. To be honest, forget about my attempts at a vinyl collection. I can see myself just playing this record on repeat for weeks and weeks to come.

– Stella Charls

Who Is William Onyeabor? by William Onyeabor

A friend introduced me to this record a few weeks ago and I’ve had it on high rotation ever since, particularly the track 'Fantastic Man’. Onyeabor’s brand of Nigerian Funk is infectious and a ton of fun, and despite being recorded over 30 years ago, his use of recording technology and synthesisers is surprisingly modern. Plus, the story of Onyeabor himself is fascinating. After being hugely prolific in the 70s and 80s, he apparently took up a public service job and refused to speak about his music ever again.

If you’re interested in learning more, this short documentary about contemporary musicians rediscovering Onyeabor’s music and attempting to track him down is a compelling snapshot of both the man, and the Nigerian funk scene.

– Alan Vaarwerk