Vinyl has gone from niche collectors to a whole culture with more and more record shops, listening bars, and retail spaces popping up. But interest goes deeper than just what’s trending, as longtime vinyl collectors know that the thrill lies less in having records than in hunting for them, also known as crate digging.
At gatherings like Kagatan, Manila’s longest-running record fair, diggers, DJs, and collectors from Cebu to Japan flock to chase the high of scoring a rare title tucked away in an unassuming pile, overlooked by everyone else and priced too well to pass up. Here, wedged between storefronts and escalators on the second floor of Makati Central Square (MCS), music becomes tactile and social as vinyl enthusiasts gather to flip and scan for a find worth taking home.
At the fair’s most recent edition, Cebu-based digger Jason Ng flew in hungry for a find. “I think of Kagatan like a scavenger hunt,” he says, “and every crate as a treasure chest with hidden gems.” After two days of hopeful digging, run-ins with old vinyl friends, and hours spent sifting through crates, Ng left with more than 20 records. One title stood out: Unang Kagat by Hotdog. “For the last decade, even if you have the money, you can’t find this album,” he says. That record alone was worth the trip.
First Pressing
Before fairs became a fixture in the local vinyl scene and record shops had accessible physical stores, crate digging in the Philippines was scarce. Records were found in old relatives’ homes, at garage sales that were few and far between, in provinces where vinyl had been discarded as trash, or, for the fortunate few, abroad, where analog culture had gone mainstream earlier. Before the boom of the last decade, Filipino plaka lovers resorted to trading on Multiply, joining Facebook groups, and gathering in the few record shops that existed at the time.
Kagatan was born in 2011, just as crate digging culture in the Philippines began to take root. “When it first started, katuwaan lang siya among like-minded friends who were into vinyl,” DJ Arbie Won, the founder of Kagatan, owner of Treskul Records & Cafe Bar, and a pioneering producer in Metro Manila’s hip-hop movement, recalls. “Siguro mga three or five sellers lang kami. This was maybe 15 years ago, sa B-side pa noon, before (Cubao) Expo.” The motivation, he says, was simple: “We just wanted to get rid of our records to buy more.”
Jamie Lim, owner of Vinyl Stop Greenhills and a longtime Kagatan attendee, recalls his experience: “The first Kagatans I attended were done outdoors and had a street party vibe. (There was everything) from pre-owned cheap-as-dirt records, to local 45s, to some pricey OPM records… and there were food stalls selling things like barbecue and burgers and hotdogs on sticks. I don’t believe I missed a single Kagatan since 2012.”
Dino Domingo, founder of Cebu records and listening bar BAIHAUS, remembers something similar. “Mine was around the first quarter of 2013 at Pablo Gallery in Cubao Expo,” he says. “No hype, no big production, just vinyl and real ones.”
Even then, it was never just about records changing hands, but about a growing network of music obsessives coming together to hunt, compare finds, trade stories, and discover — or rediscover — music.
New Arrivals
Crate digging bucks the current trend of streaming and online shopping. Instead of mere convenience, collectors seek more tangible connections beyond commerce. What makes the act special is its relation not just to the music but also to the community. That’s precisely how events like Kagatan grow. Despite growing from no more than five sellers to a quarterly fair with more than 25 vendors, the warmth of the local vinyl scene at Kagatan remains intact. “It felt very welcoming… like being a part of a family,” says Art Cang, a Gen Z vinyl DJ who only joined the scene in 2023.
“Dati kasi, kilala mo talaga the old collectors and the usual faces. Then eventually, some of them brought their kids along, and then their friends along, and then kaibigan ng kaibigan. It’s a really good mix now,” Won says of how Kagatan’s crowd has evolved. Older diggers return to analog with instinctive affection, while younger ones are drawn to a format that feels refreshingly tangible. “The new generation, it’s almost like they’re going back. Everything is so consumable, so now they wanna hold physical music,” Gary Millare, also known as DJ Genie G and owner of the vinyl concept shop RMX MNL, observes. Won puts it plainly: “Na-miss ng tao ‘yung holding onto something, whether CD, cassette, or vinyl. Reading the cover, the liner notes. That kind of feeling.”
Bargain Bin
“After the pandemic, record prices talagang nagmahal,” Won says. He remembers a different market before analog music’s revival: “Oh, it was cheap. Mura lang lahat. If you bring P1,000 back then, marami ka nang mabibili.” Those days may be gone, but Won is quick to add that not everything is out of reach. “If you’re patient, there are still deals to be had.”
Crate digging rewards those willing to dig deep, not just for lower prices, but for records that would never surface through a search bar. “I prefer ganito kasi you can discover ‘yung wala sa algorithm mo, mga random discoveries,” Won says. “Buying things online just doesn’t have the same thrill as finding something unexpectedly,” says Cang.
At fairs like Kagatan, sellers bring out records they would not normally put into circulation. Bear’s Den Records owner Al Rivera says he brings out “the deeper collection… rare, more obscure, not the usual stuff that I bring,” and points out that many sellers have distinct specialties: some focus on new wave, others on punk or soul. “‘Pag may naghanap ng Metallica, itatanong kung sinong meron,” says the Legazpi Sunday Market vendor. “‘Yung records kasi, hindi siya madalas na may doble,” he says. As Karl Pagunuran, owner of Good Vibrations Records, puts it: “Nandito pa rin ‘yung spirit of crate digging. Talagang ‘yung crates dito, hindi [mo] alam kung anong makikita mo. Hindi siya parang ma-expect [mo] kung anong laman.”
Discovery also happens through organic exchanges. “Now that I’m curating for my sets, I’m open to getting recommendations from fellow DJs here,” Cang says. It’s a messier, more human, and more meaningful way of finding music.
At one booth, a copy of The Temper Trap’s Conditions (Limited Edition 10th Anniversary Edition on white vinyl) sat on display like a holy relic. When the seller was asked for the price, he smiled and asked, “Are you prepared?” P10,000.
Not every crate yields a bargain, but that, too, is part of the game. Like treasure, what makes a crate find fulfilling is that it never comes easily.
Foreign Release
The hunger to hunt can take diggers into every nook and cranny they can squeeze into. A holiday itinerary suddenly includes a stop at an unassuming apartment in Mong Kok, a branch of Tower Records in Tokyo, a flea market in Canada, or, back in Manila, a trip to the basement of MCS for Bebop Records, run by Bob de Leon, who has been dealing vinyl for nearly 30 years.
The same instinct draws foreign collectors to the Philippines. Diggers from Japan, Europe, and Australia come for the chance to find Filipino titles that rarely surface elsewhere. OPM records in particular have become sought-after items for international collectors as well. For Yuriko Takatori, a Japanese expat, vinyl collector, and new DJ living in the Philippines, records can bridge what language sometimes cannot. “Even though we have different backgrounds, you can talk through records,” she says. “If you go around each booth, everybody has their own selection. You can see the owner’s face through their vinyls.”
Kagatan recently welcomed a group of renowned Japanese DJs who visited Manila just for the fair after years of record-buying with Won at Treskul Records. “We had sikat na mga Japanese guests — DJ Koco, Hiro-san, and Matsumoto. He’s (DJ Koco) an internationally known hip-hop vinyl DJ specializing in 45s, and nakakatuwa na he flew in just for Kagatan,” Jenny Gustilo, Won’s wife and co-owner of Treskul says. The group ended up scoring a rare Filipino record by The Howlers, a 1970s Filipino funk group, which has never been reissued. “I think the last copy I saw was maybe 10 years ago. I don’t know if it found the right buyer or talagang swerte ‘yung mga Japanese diggers,” Won jokes.
Long Play
For all the ways vinyl has become more visible in recent years, crate digging has endured not as a trend but as a practice.
The format may be old, but the ritual around it continues to generate new life. Newcomers arrive with curiosity, old-timers stay with conviction, and somewhere in between, casual buyers turn into collectors, collectors into DJs, and DJs into resellers. As Domingo puts it, “Bigger crowds, younger faces and wider sound.”
And if vinyl culture has a beating heart in Manila, Kagatan is where you can hear it loud and clear.
“We’ve always been underground and indie, and I think it will remain that way,” Gustilo says. “Arbie has never wanted it to be commercialized… Just go with the flow, very organic.” Instead of selling out, the fair upholds the culture by inviting people to buy into curiosity, curation, and community.
“Kagatan has soul,” Pagunuran says. “Lahat ng sellers, they prepare ‘yung mga stocks nila every time. A lot of sellers here are also DJs, so mas maganda ‘yung curation.” Won traces that same spirit back to the sellers themselves. “All the vendors here, they’re not here to just sell you a record,” he says. “We’re all trying to share the history behind it… Hindi lang buy and sell.”
Domingo puts it simply: “It was never just an event. It’s rooted in a real community. No gimmicks, just genuine love for vinyl, the thrill of the dig and people who keep showing up for the culture.”
The fair’s name can be traced back to Juan de la Cruz Band’s “Kagatan,” says Gustilo. “Listen to the lyrics: ‘Kagatin mo, huwag mong lubayan.’”
A bite is how it starts: a mint 45, a stray cassette, a 7-inch disco mix you did not expect to find. But the minute you find yourself digging elbow-to-elbow under back-to-back DJ sets, the hunger never really goes away.
