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· Conor Welsch
There was a time when Vinyl Me, Please felt untouchable. The “Best Damn Record Club” was more than a subscription box. It was a promise to vinyl lovers that every month, a record would arrive that mattered. For years, that promise held. Then it cracked.
By the start of 2025, Vinyl Me, Please was barely holding on. Orders went missing. Subscribers were charged but never received their records. The brand went quiet when people needed answers. For a while, it looked like the club that helped fuel the vinyl renaissance was finished.
But then came the second act.
When the problems started, it felt small. A few late shipments, a few customer service delays. But those issues piled up fast. In the vinyl world, trust is everything, and Vinyl Me, Please began losing it in real time.
Reports surfaced that the company was entering liquidation. The name “Vinyl Liquidators LLC” began appearing in legal filings. The once-beloved brand had become a ghost of itself. It was heartbreaking for collectors who had been there since the early days.
By spring 2025, Vinyl Me, Please wasn’t just struggling. It was gone.
Then came Nick Alt and his team from VNYL. Alt and Emily Muhoberac stepped in with a new plan, a new mission, and a wild idea that the brand could be saved. They didn’t promise to restore VMP, they promised to reinvent it.
They took over not just the brand name, but everything that came with it, broken systems, missing shipments, unpaid orders, and a mountain of bad press. And instead of ignoring it, they started fixing it. They offered credits to customers who were burned. They started sending out the records that had been paid for but never shipped. It was slow, messy, and imperfect, but it was honest.
Alt said it simply: this is not about a new Vinyl Me, Please. It’s about making good on what the old one failed to do.
What makes this revival so interesting is how the new Vinyl Me, Please is focusing less on online noise and more on real connection. They are rebuilding the club around human curation, quality pressings, and accountability.
Instead of trying to be an algorithmic brand or a subscription gimmick, they are trying to bring people back to the physical experience of collecting. They are cleaning up orders, rebuilding their pressing operations, and focusing on music that collectors actually want on their shelves.
This is a record club returning to its roots.
In a world where everything is digital, Vinyl Me, Please is turning away from the screen. They are going tactile again. They are talking about community, physical records, and the power of a package arriving at your door that you can actually hold.
They are leaning into the real collector mindset. The kind that values sleeve design, pressing quality, mastering, and notes from the people who made the record. They are focusing on transparency, even when the truth isn’t pretty.
It’s the opposite of corporate. It’s human. And that makes it cool as hell.
The new Vinyl Me, Please is not trying to please everyone. It’s trying to please the people who still care. They are keeping the subscription model but tightening it. They are cutting waste, pressing smarter, and promising better quality control.
They are also rebuilding relationships with pressing plants, artists, and collectors. They want to make Vinyl Me, Please feel like a record store again, not a faceless box company.
If they can pull it off, this will be one of the greatest redemption stories in vinyl history.
If you were once a Vinyl Me, Please subscriber, keep an eye on the comeback. Give them a small test run before diving in again. Order one record, see how it arrives, and judge it for yourself.
Here at Moose Vinyl, we love what Nick and the new VMP team are doing. Their focus on craft, honesty, and the physical side of collecting feels like a return to what makes vinyl special. We can’t wait to see what they build next - and we’ll be cheering them on every step of the way.