by Dan Dodds

Inside Ace Records’ Letchworth warehouse, above the kitchen, a narrow spiral staircase leads to a mezzanine - the perfect vantage point to take in the sheer scale of the space below. From up there, it feels almost like an aircraft hangar: shelves tower to the ceiling, the floor scattered with artefacts laid out for Ace’s 50th Anniversary Collection. The volume of stock is staggering - thousands of records, CDs and box sets stacked in neat rows, five decades of obsessive curatorship. Rarities stretch as far as the eye can see - long out-of-print books used for liner notes, test pressings, artist headshots, live photographs, bill posters and promotional artwork chronicling decades of music history. It’s less an archive than a living museum - a hall of fame for Black music and rock ’n’ roll in all its many idioms.

The Wax Poetics delegation – Marketing and Culture Manager Imani Thomas, videographers & Designers Theo D’Cruz and Tane Steppard, and publisher David Holt - had driven up from North London in a van cleared specially to retrieve their haul. “Cup of tea?” offers Ace general manager Neil Scaplehorn, ushering them in before the day’s dig begins.

Down the first aisle, Imani holds a photographic negative to the light – Rufus Thomas mid-performance in the sixties, microphone in hand. Len Barry’s “I Struck It Rich” (an early Gamble & Huff co-write) blares from custom-made speakers, Ace compilations filling every corner with sound. Along the back wall, rows of brown, grey and forest-green filing cabinets still bear their old Chubb locks, looking like props from a seventies spy thriller. Inside are artist contracts, typed memos and faxes – the physical equivalent of an email chain. One contract, heavily annotated in biro, carries a note: “Due to the current market, suggest we slim this down to two discs and only offer a $5,000 advance.” Another asks, “Has the DJ secured the rights for this?” The paper trail – a demonstration of Ace’s commitment to authenticity and sound commercial sense.

Back on the mezzanine, boxes of rare magazines and fanzines from the seventies are stacked and ready for reference. Across the floor, bill posters lie rolled or laid flat: one for Spring Records’ Millie Jackson Young Man, Older Woman tour (with Ray, Goodman & Brown supporting), another for a Dylan-endorsed compilation inspired by his Three Time Radio Hour. Nearby, a box of lettered bricks, specially commissioned for use on the cover of Funkadelic’s Toys sleeve, sits like relics from another age.

Camera in hand, Tane films the section devoted to test pressings - pallets piled high with boxes of sought-after vinyl. Behind them, a makeshift bed hints at long nights spent picking orders and sorting stock. On brand and dressed in a Wax Poetics tee, Dave scales the warehouse racking to retrieve an old Volmar record player, dusting down the merch (his shirt) once he’s back on solid ground.

Theo interviews Keb Darge – flat cap tilted, sleeves rolled - Ace’s Order Fulfilment Specialist and a renowned deep funk DJ. Mid-conversation, Keb slides a record back into its sleeve. “Pish,” he says, dismissing a track not quite to his taste. Theo laughs; the exchange captures the spirit of the place – opinionated, passionate and where music always comes first.

Around every corner lies another reminder of Ace’s obsessive dedication to detail: rare prints of the Shirelles and the Toys; Neil standing before shelves holding virtually every release Ace and its labels have ever issued - Little Richard’s weighty, 1989 eight-LP Specialty box set gleaming among them. A half-century of reclamation, restoration and reverence. Mission accomplished – this was more than a label visit; it was a pilgrimage into the very heart of recorded culture.

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