The Perfect Imperfection: In Defense of the "Very Good"/VG Record (and Good Plus/G+)

In the sanitized world of online marketplaces, the word "Mint" is the holy grail. It implies perfection. It suggests a record that has never known the touch of a human hand, a jacket that has never felt the friction of a shelf. It is a sterile, vacuum-sealed ideal.

And for the listener who actually wants to hear music, it is often a trap.

There is a pervasive fear among some collectors that anything less than "Near Mint" (NM) is garbag, a platter of pops, skips, and disappointment. This is false. The "Very Good" (VG) record is the backbone of the vinyl culture. It is the grade where the real bargains hide and the true soul of analog audio is found.

It is time to stop fearing the scuff and start respecting the listener's copy.

The Economics of the Scuff

Let’s look at the math. The gap between a "Near Mint" copy of a classic album and a "Very Good" copy is often a chasm in price, but a hairline fracture in sound.

Speculators and investors drive the price of NM records. They are buying an asset, an object to be looked at or resold. They are paying a premium for the absence of flaws. The listener, however, should be paying for the presence of music.

A VG record - by the strict Goldmine standard - will show signs of use. It will have light scuffs. It might have a little surface noise in the quiet passages. But it will not skip. It will not be overwhelmed by distortion. And it will often cost 50% to 70% less than its pristine counterpart.

The smart money buys the music, not the shine. You can build a library of three foundational VG albums for the price of one NM trophy piece.

The Campfire Crackle

There is a difference between "noise" and "warmth."

A "Fair" or "Poor" record sounds like frying bacon. It is a distraction. A VG record, however, often possesses a gentle, low-level surface texture—a faint crackle before the music starts or during a fade-out.

Digital audio has trained the modern ear to expect absolute, vacuum-like silence. But in the analog domain, that silence is often artificial. A slight crackle is not a defect; it is the atmosphere of the medium. It is the sound of a campfire. It reminds the brain that a physical object is spinning in the room. Once the drums kick in or the guitar amps up, that noise floor disappears behind the music. It becomes invisible, leaving only the pressure and weight of the sound.

The Ghost in the Machine

A "Mint" record has no history. It came from a factory, went into a shrink wrap, and sat there. It is an orphan.

A VG record has lived.

Do not recoil from a name written in ballpoint pen on the back cover. That name—"Susan, 1973" or "Mark's Copy"—is provenance. It is evidence that this object was a cherished possession. It went to parties. It was loaned to friends. It was spun on a Friday night after a long week.

The same goes for "ring wear," the circular fade on the album jacket. That isn't damage; it's a badge of honor. It means the record was stored in a stack, likely next to other favorites, flipping in and out of rotation. These artifacts carry a psychic weight. When you hold a VG copy of Rumours or Innervisions, you are holding an object that has soundtracked someone else’s life before it entered yours. You are the next link in the chain.

How to Spot the Diamond

Buying VG requires a sharper eye than buying Mint. You are looking for "honest wear" versus "abuse." Here is the field guide for the hunt:

1. The Surface Sweep

Hold the disc under a bright light. You will see lines. Do not panic. Look at the nature of the lines.

• The Good: Wispy, hair-like lines that sit on top of the glossy surface are usually from paper sleeves. They rarely affect the sound deeply.

• The Bad: A scratch that looks white or grey, or one that you can feel with your fingernail. That is a scar that will click.

2. The Gloss Test

A record that has been played to death on a bad turntable will look dull, grey, and hazy. Avoid this. A VG record should still retain its gloss. If it shines like a mirror but has a few scuffs, it still has life in the grooves.

3. The Cleaning Upgrade

Here is the secret weapon: Most VG records are just dirty. A record graded as VG in a shop often jumps to a VG+ after a rigorous wet cleaning. Decades of dust and cigarette smoke can mask a pristine groove. By mastering the art of cleaning, you can buy at VG prices and listen at VG+ quality.

The Dealer's Cushion: Your Margin of Victory

There is a massive difference between a VG record found in a thrift store bin and a VG record sold by a reputable professional. Understanding this distinction is the key to building a high-quality collection on a budget.

The amateur seller sees a shiny record and guesses "Mint." They often miss the scratches. Buying from them is a gamble.

The professional dealer grades with their wallet in mind. They know that a returned record costs them money and reputation. Therefore, they grade defensively. This is the "Dealer's Cushion." A pro will often look at a record that plays perfectly but has a cosmetic smudge, and they will mark it down to VG just to be safe.

When you buy a VG record from a serious dealer, you are often receiving a record that plays like a VG+ or better. You are paying for the visual flaw, but receiving the sonic quality. This defensive grading is your margin of victory.

The Honorable "Good Plus": A Placeholder for History

There is one exception where a collector should descend even lower on the grading ladder: the "Good Plus" (G+).

Usually, this grade is a warning sign. But for the rare artifact—the original 1950s Blue Note, the psychedelic private press, the 45 RPM single that costs a mortgage payment in Mint condition—the G+ is a savior. This is the "Placeholder."

If the seller is a professional who knows their trade, a G+ grade means the record will look like it was dragged behind a car, but it will play through without skipping. It will be noisy. It will pop. But the music is there. For a true rarity, this is an acceptable compromise. It allows the historian to own the artifact, to hold the history, and to experience the music until a cleaner copy appears. It is better to hear a legend through a veil of static than to never hear it at all.

Field Note: The 10-Inch Survivor

The Artifact: Clifford Brown and Max Roach - Study in Brown (EmArcy, 1955, 10-inch LP). The Grade: Good (G). The surface looks like a skating rink. The Verdict: Keep it.

Why? This record is 70 years old. It is a document of the transition era when jazz was moving from singles to albums. A "Mint" copy is nearly impossible to find because these records were party fuel—they were stacked on changers and played at high volume.

The Listening Tip: Do not play this with your expensive, sharp "Microline" stylus. It will find every piece of dirt at the bottom of the groove. Swap in a cartridge with a conical (spherical) stylus (like a Denon DL-103 or a simple Audio-Technica VM95C).

The older 1950s "microgrooves" were cut wider than modern records. A conical stylus often rides higher on the groove wall, effectively "floating" above the deep scratches that sit at the bottom. You might be shocked at how much music is still left in that "beat up" piece of plastic.

The Verdict

The "Museum of One" needs exhibits that have stories to tell. Do not fill your shelves with sterile, expensive plastic that you are afraid to touch. Fill them with records that have been loved.

The VG record is the honest transmission of culture. It is affordable, it sounds huge, and it carries the ghosts of the past. It is the best deal in audio. Go find the one with the name written on the jacket. It has the best stories to tell.