Back in December 2015, Ringo Starr auctioned off his personal copy of The White Album for a whopping $790,000, setting a record for the most expensive vinyl record ever sold that still stands to this day.
The reason it was worth so much money wasn’t just because it was owned by the former narrator of Thomas the Tank Engine, but because it was the very first copy of the album ever pressed, with the serial number 0000001 stamped on the sleeve to prove it.
While not everyone has a record worth the same as two Ferraris in their collection, most people who buy vinyl own something that’s particularly valuable to them, whether it’s through rarity, sentimentality, or some other reason that’s harder to quantify.
For this year's Vinyl Week and to coincide with Record Store Day, we considered asking Ringo to pick the next most expensive record from his collection but we’ve lost his email address, so here are the What Hi-Fi? editorial team’s most valuable records and the stories behind them instead.
Scott Garcia – A London Thing
Words by Joe Cox
I started buying vinyl out of necessity. Having dabbled with Britpop in my early teenage years, my head was turned by dance music, and by the time I was old enough to go to clubs (legally, at least), I aspired to be a superstar DJ. And in the late 90s, this meant buying records.
It wasn’t just that mixing vinyl records was a prerequisite for being a DJ (this was before CDJs and tracks on USB sticks) – it was literally the only way to own the music in question.
So my vinyl buying began in earnest, with weekends spent nervously asking to listen to new releases in record shops and spending £6.99 – a small fortune in the context of my paper round – on white labels, often with only one or two tracks on the record.
This means my relationship with vinyl was a utilitarian one. I wasn’t making a conscious decision to buy vinyl; it was simply the only option for the music I wanted, and how I wanted to play it. I was buying and playing records rather than collecting them.
Despite only ever mixing records with mates in our respective bedrooms, I convinced myself I needed to be buying every ‘big tune’ that was released in order to further my DJ career, a career which, while not actually active in any way shape or form, was surely only a matter of time.
Back in the real world, and 20-odd years later, this does leave me with more than my fair share of tracks that haven’t really stood the test of time. Amongst some stone-cold classics, of course.
But collectively they remind me of the time I fell in love with dance music; of messing about mixing records with mates; and learning how to interact with moody blokes behind record shop counters.
With that in mind, rather than plumping for the obscure dubstep record that Discogs tells me is worth £250, I’ll pick the record I was given by my mates for my 18th birthday: A London Thing by Scott Garcia.
DJ magazine called it an “era-defining UKG anthem”, and while it seems a little cheesy now, it does serve as the perfect reminder of my formative years – in life, music, and buying vinyl.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer – Once More With Feeling
Words by Kashfia Kabir
It's no exaggeration to say that Buffy the Vampire Slayer played a big part in shaping who I am today. My favourite TV show of all time since I was 11 years old, its distinct lingo, great (and occasionally bad) fashion choices, pop culture references, music, and parade of great supernatural villains have stayed with me today. Moreover, there are lessons and morals I've learnt from the demon-fighting gang of high schoolers – about relationships, friendships, life, dealing with the eventual apocalypse – that still ring true for me today.
One of the seminal episodes of Buffy's history is Once More With Feeling – a season six episode that is entirely a musical. It's a delightful, heartfelt, silly, witty episode with brilliantly written lyrics (and some great singing performances), that tackles one of the most difficult themes in their lives in song. Great tunes, great emotion, great demon of the day.
So when Mondo released an exclusive limited edition vinyl pressing of the soundtrack, I had to have it. I already owned the soundtrack on CD, but this special vinyl edition is packaged beautifully, with new original artwork by Paul Mann on the gorgeous gatefold sleeve, a "Playbill" of lyrics, credits and more liner notes from the show's creator, and was available in three colour variants. I went for the red vinyl – you've probably seen it in many of our turntable reviews, as not only is it a great album, but this Mondo edition is also a great quality pressing and sounds fantastic. We use it for testing record players regularly.
I didn't have a turntable when I bought it but there was no doubt in my mind it would be one of my most cherished items, and it remains my favourite vinyl record as my collection grows today. This one has become a rare collector's item too, as there aren't many Buffy fans willing to part with their LP – I've seen it listed for over $1000 on eBay, which is wild considering I only paid $25 for it back in 2019. Its worth to me far exceeds its monetary value – it's a great quality pressing and package overall, but it simply brings me joy every time I hear it, 20+ years on from when I first saw the musical episode. And that I can keep a piece of Buffy living on in my day-to-day work life? Well, that's just swell.
Claudio Simonetti's Goblin – The Murder Collection
Words by Becky Roberts
It’s hardly surprising that my most valuable record, sentimentally speaking at least, is the very first one I bought. But since moving to Australia and having to leave my collection back at home in the UK (hence the bog-standard picture above), my connection to it has grown even more.
This won't be news for fellow horror aficionados, but prog-rock band Goblin soundtracked copious iconic Italian genre movies, including cult classics by giallo godfather Dario Argento (Suspiria, Deep Red, Tenebrae and Opera, for example) and fellow 70s horror maestros Lamberto Bava (Demons) and George Romero (Martin, Dawn of the Dead). And its keyboardist Claudio Simonetti has kept its iconic sound alive over the decades through various iterations of the band for new and old fans to savour.
The limited-edition (499) Record Store Day exclusive of the aptly named The Murder Collection, which presents the compilation on a graphic-perfect picture disc with a clear sleeve, comprises freshly rearranged compositions of Goblin's most famous scores, rerecorded with the three bandmates of Simonetti’s horror tribute band, Daemonia.
It’s the sounds you remember, characterised by the discordant synth-laden melodies laid down by the composer's trademark keyboard, only this time they are amped up by brighter spotlights on pummelling percussion and dynamic rockier guitar that lunge from the wax. It’s the classic margarita but with a chilli salt rim providing that extra kick.
Despite owning albums that would fetch a lot more on Discogs, this is the one I would save from a burning building – as long as my flight home got there in time.
Slint – Spiderland
Words by Tom Wiggins
Slint’s Spiderland is an underground classic. Originally released in 1991 and considered one of the albums that helped to popularise the emerging genre of post-rock, it’s a record that I’ve always loved and has always felt mysterious for one reason or another, whether it’s the sinister-sounding songs about fortune tellers, vampires, and shipwrecks; the band’s floating heads peering out from the monochrome text-free cover; or the fact that they broke up before it even came out.
In April 2014, Touch and Go Records released a limited-edition Spiderland vinyl box set, including a bunch of extras that I was keen to get my hands on: a book of unseen photographs, CDs of the remastered album and 14 previously unreleased demos and outtakes, and a DVD of Breadcrumb Trail – a documentary about the band by film-maker Lance Bangs that seemed unlikely to ever get a standard release.
(In the end, it got uploaded to YouTube in full in 2017, but I wasn’t to know that at the time.)
Unwilling to fork out $150 for an album I already owned on both vinyl and CD (told you I was a fan), I kept my credit card in my wallet. But after the run of 3138 box sets had sold out the label announced that it had some spare copies of those extras (minus the book), which were bundled up in work-in-progress versions of the limited-edition packaging and listed for sale on its website. They came in a gatefold sleeve and bear the same catalogue number as the full sets, but you can tell it’s just the leftovers because the cover is white rather than black.
A much more reasonable $22 (plus $22.50 shipping) later and that’s how I came to own the most valuable record on my shelf, which isn’t really a record at all, but is quite possibly rarer and more valuable than the one I didn’t buy.
Velvet Underground – Loaded
Words by Chris Burke
Loaded was one of a handful of records I inherited from my older sister when she went travelling (and no, sis, you're not having any of them back). As an indie kid in the late ’80s, not only was I surprised at how much groove this record has – as opposed to the more 'experimental' John Cale/Warhol's Factory ’60s Velvet Underground output – but it was the first record I'd heard by the band that I really connected with.
It was also an "oh, I get it" moment in regard to all the indie music around at the time. So, so many bands were evidently influenced by the Velvet Underground in the ’80s, and it was one of those 'connecting the dots' moments in that rock family tree.
From the dreamy, sun-soaked opener Who Loves The Sun to the addictive swing and bounce of Rock And Roll, to the beautifully laid-back album closer Sweet Nuthin', it's a true classic. My favourite track, Sweet Jane, blows marijuana-smoke rings around themes of romance and rock’n’roll as its groove and melody utterly captivates.
While the Velvets themselves had transformed by this point into more making accessible radio-friendly music, with late-comer Doug Yule now musically in the driving seat, this album also continued to hint at Lou Reed's greatness still-to-come, as his legend grew and his song delivery became ever more iconic (think Walk On The Wild Side, Satellite Of Love, the Lou Reed album version of the Velvets' Lisa Says) in the early-'70s.
There's also that truly wonderful trippy cover art – so very, very 1970. As perhaps one of the oldest albums I own, I've taken special care of my copy over the years, and despite having a number of more monetarily valuable pressings in my collection, this one holds a special place.
MORE:
10 of the world's top music journalists reveal their most cherished records
9 tips for new or returning vinyl fans that will help you on your record-collecting journey
Check out all the Vinyl Week 2025 features, reviews and advice
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