André Bouwman

Tell us about where you grew up and what kind of music surrounded you as a kid?
I grew up in the south of Rotterdam, an area that’s always been full of different cultures and sounds. From a young age, I was surrounded by music from everywhere: Caribbean rhythms, Indian influences, Turkish folk, Surinamese kaseko, Dutch house and a lot of American hip-hop. My parents were more into folk and psych. So a proper melting pot.

What were your first musical obsessions growing up?
Definitely hip-hop. Especially the more conscious stuff from the ‘90s, that really shaped my taste. Black Sheep, Souls of Mischief, The Pharcyde, De La Soul, Pete Rock… and Wu-Tang. Man, I loved, and still love, everything Wu-Tang. Their world-building, their samples, their rawness… it was more than music, it was a whole universe. And now my son (Ace) is super into hip-hop too, so I’m learning about all these new artists and sounds through him. It’s kind of amazing how the music keeps passing itself forward.

Do you remember the first record that made you fall in love with music?
Yes, it actually started with my parents’ collection. They were big into Fleetwood Mac, so that was on quite a lot. But one day my dad put on Black Magic Woman, the Santana version. I already knew the Fleetwood Mac original, but Santana’s take hit me differently. It had energy, soul, that Latin groove… I remember thinking, what is this? The first hip-hop record that really got under my skin was Organized Konfusion’s self-titled album.

What was it about hip-hop that spoke to you at that time?
Everything. The beats, the rhymes, the attitude, the culture. What wasn’t there to love? I started collecting records around age 12, DJing in my bedroom, sometimes at community centers or small house parties. Nothing serious, just fun, curiosity, and a growing obsession with finding sounds.

How did your relationship with music change as you got older?
When I moved to Amsterdam in 2001 to work in advertising, music was still a big part of my life, but I started digging deeper. At a party from a post-production company, I met a fellow music lover. He was about ten years older and had already gone far down the rabbit hole: samples, jazz, soul, funk. He knew where everything came from. He was like a walking encyclopedia. We started digging together and he completely changed the way I listened. He also introduced me to Wax Poetics magazine, which opened up a whole new world of stories, knowledge, and connections. That’s when I fell hard for jazz and soul.

Do you remember the moment when jazz “clicked” for you?
Yeah, that happened while I was crate-digging for samples and stumbled across some CTI Records releases. I remember pulling out one because of the cover. The photography, the typography, the colors. Then I put it on, and it sounded like everything I loved about hip-hop, but in its purest form: groove, emotion, rhythm. Creed Taylor was a visionary, and Pete Turner, the photographer behind many of those iconic CTI covers, was a genius. I became obsessed. The music was funky, sophisticated, cinematic. It felt like a bridge between all my worlds.

How do those genres, hip-hop, house, jazz, and soul, connect for you? Do you see them as separate worlds, or parts of the same story?
To me, they’re all part of the same continuum. Hip-hop and house came out of the same spirit as jazz and soul; people expressing themselves, reimagining sound, taking what came before and flipping it into something new. Sampling made that connection literal, but even without samples, it’s all about groove, feel, and storytelling.

Is there a record or artist that perfectly captures your own musical journey?
Reachin’ (A New Refutation of Time and Space) by Digable Planets. That record is everything; jazz, hip-hop, philosophy, groove, and consciousness. It’s smart and laid-back at the same time. It reminds me why I fell in love with music in the first place.

You run a strategy firm by day. How did you end up taking over Vinylspot?
Funny story. I first visited Vinylspot back in 2010. I was living in London at the time but visiting my girlfriend, now my wife, in Rotterdam. We were on our way to a gallery opening, and I spotted this tiny record store on Van Speijkstraat. We were early, so I said, “Let’s pop in for five minutes.” I ended up staying an hour, missed the artist’s opening speech, and had one of those conversations that stays with you; about the London jazz scene, Amoeba Records in San Francisco, Sun Ra… all with Lex, the owner. That was the start of our friendship.

Over the years, I helped him out at record fairs and built the first Vinylspot website during COVID. When Lex decided to step back, it just felt natural to keep the store alive together.

Was it always a dream to own a record store, or did it happen more by chance?
A bit of both. I never really planned to own a record store, but I’ve always dreamed about building a place where people could connect through music. Vinylspot became that, and more.

What did you want to preserve from Lex’s original vision, and what did you want to add or change?
Lex built Vinylspot on deep knowledge and understanding. That’s sacred. I wanted to keep that heart intact while expanding its reach. We’ve made the shop a bit more of a brand, a listening space, and a community hangout. A place where collectors, musicians, and curious listeners can just talk, share, and learn from each other.

Vinylspot has always had a strong identity. How do you see it evolving under your care?
We’ll stay true to what makes us who we are: a focus on quality, depth, and discovery. But we’re also thinking about how to bring that experience to more people; through events, collaborations, maybe even a small label one day.

What’s one of your favorite moments you’ve experienced in the shop since taking over?
Honestly, any time someone finds a record they’ve been hunting for years and just lights up. That’s the best feeling. Seeing people connect emotionally with music never gets old.

What’s your go-to record after a long workday?
Depends on the day, but something like Alice Coltrane’s Journey in Satchidananda usually does the trick.

And finally, if you could host a listening session with any artist, living or dead, who would it be?
Probably Gil Scott-Heron. Imagine the stories, the honesty, the energy.