WHEN it comes to collecting records, most people would have some way to go before they can match Zero Freitas, a Brazilian in his early sixties. He has spent decades, and colossal sums of money, on vinyl. His collection is in excess of eight million. Two years ago he was reported to be knocking down three properties in Sao Paulo in order to build a five-storey home for his records.

Whether you’re Zero Freitas or an enthusiast of more limited means, there are unalloyed pleasures to be had from records: the tactile joy of easing the vinyl from its sleeve: the crackle as the needle is lowered onto the grooves: the warm sound that fills the room. For many older collectors, there’s a distinct sense of nostalgia, too. Placing old records on the turntable with an affectionate glance at the label in the middle means revisiting music we loved or were inspired by, back in the day - before downloads, before streaming. Before the advent of CDs too, when it comes to that. I still have vinyl from the seventies (the purchase of much of which was influenced by John Peel) and the eighties. Many of the covers’ spines may have been used as scratching-posts by successive cats but the actual contents remain intact.

Last Saturday, at the Glasgow Record Fair, staged once again at Glasgow Club Bellahouston, collectors were to be found huddled over long tables of vinyl and CDs. Many were people of my own age but it was gratifying to see many younger people there as well. Business was brisk.

Leicester-based VIP Record Fairs has been organising these events since the early 1980s. Over the years its Glasgow venues have included the Mitchell and the Royal Concert Hall. Rob Lythall of VIP Events says he has sold up to 60 per cent more space to traders at Bellahouston than used to be the case in the city centre. “In our marketing we tell young people about the event,” he says, “because they’re interested in this sort of thing. They’ve got everything on their smartphones but they want the physical product, too.” The sound quality available on old vinyl here, he says, is superior to that on the vinyl re-pressings you can buy in supermarkets, he adds.

Years ago, he sold his own record collection in order to become a dealer, “but I’m fascinated by music generally, so I always have it on.”

The records and CDs on sale cover every conceivable genre: 60s psychedelia, thrash metal, country, folk, pop, rock, techno. I overhear one man talking at some length to a trader about some old Kate Bush recording, Nearby, a woman in her early 20s flicks through Pet Shop Boys albums. Unofficial concert recordings are in plentiful supply: two of the newest feature concerts by U2 and Roger Waters. I buy a couple of Bob Dylan gigs from 2015 and this year.

A man in his 40s looks through a pile of crew backstage passes, stacked next to some bottles of Iron Maiden beer and a Bruce Springsteen. mirror. There’s tons of old Beatles stuff to be had here. The Rolling Stones, too. A trader specialising in Japanese vinyl pressings is attracting a fair degree of interest.

Simon Black, of Black Vinyl, specialises in sixties’ and seventies’ rock, folk, jazz and blues. He says he’s being doing this since 1997 after leaving the record department at John Smith’s in Byres Road, which he set up. His own interests include progressive rock and late sixties American rock. “When I opened up in Smith’s, that was an attempt to get that music onto the shelves,” he says. “That was very successful in the end.”

Interest in vinyl has been getting much better, he adds as customers browse through a small but intriguing selection of Black Vinyl’s total stock, which consists of 10,000 rare and secondhand albums. “It seems to be that young people are now buying, in some ways, their parents’ record collections - Fleetwood Mac, and that sort of thing. My stock is quite specialist so the interest is not quite getting right into the depth of my catalogue, but the specialist market is still strong, especially when you consider that the originals of some of these [records] are going for hundreds and hundreds of pounds.” Like many traders, Black tops up his catalogue with twice-yearly visits to the massive record fair at Utrecht, in Holland (the next one takes place on November 11 and 12.” Black takes second-hand stock and sells it there too.

Vinyl was, of course, written off at one time, but such obituaries were premature. Tesco and Sainsbury’s both stock vinyl (the latter announced a year ago that vinyl would be sold in 238 of its stores), while specialist music outlets have wider selections. The current UK Vinyl Albums Chart is topped by Liam Gallagher, with Lana Del Ray, The Darkness and Marilyn Manson close behind. If you caught Radio 4’s Front Row last Friday, you would have heard that coloured vinyl is shaping up as the next big thing (again). All of the albums by Queen were re-released in different colours on vinyl last year. Gallagher’s new album is available in limited-edition white vinyl, and St Vincent’s new album can be purchased in opaque pink or opaque yellow.

Another trader at the Glasgow fair is Ian Bustard, 46, from Glasgow. His wares mostly consist of late sixties/early seventies music, as well as Beatles and eighties New Wave. “I’m actually selling my dad’s stuff ,” he says with a laugh. “He doesn’t like doing this kind of thing, so throughout my life he’s always asked me to do a lot of things for him. He’s a collector. It became like a hobby for him. He’s got loads of different things.” Bustard has been at a couple of fairs. How does he find the experience? “It’s social, and you meet a lot of different, interesting people. It’s a nice day out and you make a bit of pocket money. I’m a big music fan, I play music myself.” He has been in “loads” of bands over the years and is also involved in music for theatre shows. His own tastes stretch to dance and punk “and anything inbetween. There’s so much good stuff kicking about.”

Like other traders he has noticed a resurgence of interest in vinyl over the last couple of years. “I think people see the value of it. As music becomes more digital it feels a lot more throw-away-able, whereas vinyl records are beautiful items. That’s the thing. Just the sleeve-work, for a start: they’re beautiful pieces of art.”

His dad, he says, likes Abba, but Bustard tells him that you can’t sell Abba vinyl. “An Abba fan is quite happy to put on Spotify, but people who buy these albums,” he says with a nod to the ones he’s selling, “they buy them, they play them and they love them. Vinyl’s a beautiful thing. People feel a real attachment to it, and I think that’s a rare thing, that kind of genuine attachment to something.”

Almost certainly the youngest customer at the fair is Maisie, who is aged two-and-three-quarters. She is clutching an Amy Winehouse album and is here with her mother, Nicole Frame, 37, a teacher from Glasgow. Nicole says: “I’ve been wanting to come to a record fair for ages but haven’t got round to it.” A Paisley record shop is raffling tickets for a Paolo Nutini in-store show this Thursday for just 60 fans. “I decided to take Maisie out to the record shop. I bought three vinyls and I haven’t got my record player yet. I’m getting it at Christmas.” She says her biggest regret was not getting vinyl when she was younger. She bought the Winehouse album but was now looking for Radiohead. She’s a big fan of theirs, she says, having seen them not just at Glastonbury but at TRNSMT on Glasgow Green this summer.

Nostalgia can lie in wait for you as you flick through albums. I was looking through some rock vinyl when suddenly I saw a copy of a Deep Purple compilation, 24 Carat Purple, that I hadn’t seen in all of 40 years. A couple of yards away an older bloke, evidently a Black Sabbath fan, seemed bewitched by a live album., the earliest known such work of theirs, recorded at Rugman’s Youth Club in Dumfries, way back in November 1969. One fan left with an armful of pristine Van Morrison vinyl.

That’s the joy of shows such as these. You can indulge your passion for music and nurture your attachment to black vinyl with like-minded souls; you can replace albums that have become worn-out (or whose sleeve spine has been shredded by cats’ paws). And, at the very moment when you’re least expecting it, you come across a forgotten gem, and your heart skips a beat.