Music

Meet the guy who's buying every record in the world

by Mohan Fitzgerald

Photo: Sebastián Liste/Noor/The New York Times

The successful bus magnate is quietly trying to own a physical copy of every piece of music ever recorded, and probably well on his way. The process is almost subconscious, too; were Freitas not exceptionally wealthy, we might have found him on a particularly compelling episode of Hoarders instead of in the New York Times Magazine.

What began in childhood as a mostly normal compulsion slowly turned into a massive effort when Freitas’ family-owned bus company started making some serious cash. This new income stream compelled Freitas to start buying records in enormous quantities—pretty much indiscriminately. He eventually formed a network of international buyers whose anonymous classified ads have led to mysterious purchases of as many as three million records at a time. Only now is he making his massive collection known to the public.

But even as Freitas buys up inconsequential Polka records by the 15,000, he is simultaneously amassing an important and sometimes rare assortment of vinyl. As a collector, Freitas can boast of an impressive private collection, but his role as an almost unwitting archivist might be even more valuable. Freitas started to feel pretty guilty about stockpiling records for essentially no reason, and is now planning to found an archival company called Emporium Musical to bring order and meaning to the project—not to mention the team of interns that he’s already hired to chip away at the truly daunting task of categorizing these bad boys.

The effort to archive North American music is well under way, with groups like Bob George’s ARChive of Contemporary Music receiving support from artists like Rolling Stone’s Keith Richards in their efforts to collect, organize, and digitalize traditional and historically relevant music. On the other hand, in countries like Brazil, Cuba and Nigeria, up to 80 percent of music recorded in the mid-20th century has never been transferred to digital platforms. Freitas’ collection might therefore prove incredibly important from a historical standpoint.

We’re particularly pleased by the news because the Polka section of AUX’s own vinyl collection is really suffering these days. In fact, we’re already intending to fly our own intern to Brazil so he can peruse Freitas’ crates personally. And also bask in the tropical sun while enjoying mixed drinks that have those tiny umbrellas in them. Please?