What are the biggest vinyls

The largest record collection in the world : The discotheque

In the search for the reason for Zero Freitas ’obsession, you come to your mother at some point.

He was still a boy and stuck candy wrappers in a notebook, neatly, smoothed out, new ones were added almost every day. He liked the brightly colored, crackling papers, he proudly showed them around or looked at them for a long time. The collection was treasure and occupation for him. Until one day it was gone, nowhere to be found, Zero panicked for the notebook. “My mother threw it away,” says Freitas. "Just because. I think that's where it started. "

It is a Thursday morning in September when Zero Freitas, 62 years old, opens the heavy door to an old ball bearing factory in western São Paulo, strolls through the former production hall, past hundreds of meters high stacked plastic boxes, and finally enters a bare adjoining room that leads from unadorned shelves is criss-crossed.

There are records on the shelves. hundreds, thousands, hundreds of thousands. LPs, EPs, slipcase, singles. Mostly narrow, sometimes wider hull backs, close together, from the floor to the ceiling, from one wall to the other. “230,000 pieces,” says Freitas. "Just a small part. What we have been able to register so far. "

Today he has the largest collection of records in the world

Freitas exchanged the candy wrappers for records. And better pay attention this time. Today he owns what is probably the largest record collection in the world. Built over decades, unnoticed by the public. Freitas collected anonymously.

It started half a century ago when Freitas, twelve years old, bought his first LP. "Roberto Carlos sings for the youth", from one of the later most successful singers in South America, the Julio Iglesias of Brazil. “It was the record zero,” says Freitas. The foundation disk.

When he graduated from school there were 3,000 records on Freitas' shelf when he turned thirty and had studied composition at university: 30,000. Ten years later he separated from his first wife - she got the books, he got the records - and collecting became an addiction. “Five million,” says Freitas, he owns today. “A rule of thumb.” New copies are added every day. Sometimes 100,000 in one fell swoop.

Zero Freitas is rebuilding the Alexandria library, if you will, a universal music store made entirely of vinyl. No longer in the old world, but in the new one. Brazil. The São Paulo nightclub.

The engine that drives it chugs silently

But in the eyes of the discotheque one looks in vain for the blaze of the collective fever. Rather, it exudes something elusive, inconspicuous. Freitas wears low shoes, a baggy sweatshirt and the gray hair that grows around the back of the head is shoulder length. Rimless glasses that he takes off to read make him feel hesitant. The engine that drives it, you can't hear it, it pounds quietly inside Freitas. But all the more violently. “I'm always on the hunt for something,” says Freitas. "Always, incessantly, without ceasing!"

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