The Avalanches Had 15,000 Vinyl Records. Then They Walked Away.
The Avalanches built their sound from a collection of 15,000 vinyl records. Then Robbie Chater let nearly all of them go. Discover why the sampling pioneers traded crate digging for YouTube, and what it means for their new album.
The sampling pioneers built their sound by digging through forgotten records. Now, with a new album approaching, they're finding inspiration in YouTube videos, advertising jingles, and sounds most of us barely notice.
Imagine spending years building a vinyl collection of 15,000 records.
Not simply collecting albums you love, but searching through obscure releases, forgotten recordings, and records nobody else seems interested in. Every sleeve potentially hiding a sound that could become something entirely new.
Now imagine giving almost all of them away.
That's essentially what Robbie Chater of The Avalanches did.
The Australian electronic group became famous for transforming fragments of existing recordings into elaborate musical collages. Their breakthrough album, Since I Left You, remains one of the most celebrated examples of sample-based production.
Yet in a recent interview with MusicRadar, Chater revealed that he parted with nearly his entire collection in 2020, retaining approximately 200 records.
And perhaps more surprisingly, The Avalanches haven't stopped discovering unusual sounds.
They've simply changed where they look.
From 15,000 Records to Just 200
For decades, record collecting and sampling were practically inseparable.
Producers visited thrift stores, record fairs, and secondhand shops, hunting for overlooked recordings that might contain an interesting drum break, vocal phrase, or instrumental passage.
For The Avalanches, that process became an art form.
Their 2000 debut, Since I Left You, transformed fragments of older recordings into something that felt simultaneously familiar and entirely new.
The magic wasn't simply finding obscure records. It was hearing possibilities in material that other listeners might overlook.
A few seconds of music could become the foundation of an entirely different composition.
Chater's enormous record collection was part of that creative world.
But by 2020, he was ready to let most of it go.
According to his recent MusicRadar interview, he reduced the collection from approximately 15,000 records to around 200, keeping those with particular personal significance.
For collectors, that number is almost difficult to comprehend.
Most of us struggle to part with a dozen records, let alone thousands.
But the decision also reveals something interesting about the relationship between collecting music and creating it.
The records were never necessarily the destination. They were a way of discovering sounds.
And discovery doesn't have to happen exclusively through vinyl.
YouTube Has Become the New Record Store
The Avalanches are now increasingly exploring material that would have been difficult, or sometimes impossible, to discover through traditional record collecting.
YouTube videos. Forgotten advertisements. Corporate jingles. Electronic startup sounds. Audio logos.
The kinds of recordings most people encounter without consciously listening to them.
Think about the brief melody that plays when a device starts up, the musical signature at the end of an advertisement, or a decades-old commercial that somebody uploaded to YouTube.
These sounds were created to be instantly recognizable, memorable, and emotionally effective.
Then, in many cases, they were forgotten.
For a group like The Avalanches, that's an enormous creative playground.
Their upcoming fourth album, No Bad Memories, explores the strange emotional relationship people have with advertising, brands, technology, and the sounds embedded in everyday life.
It's a fascinating evolution of their original approach.
Where earlier records might have drawn inspiration from forgotten soul singles or obscure instrumental albums, the new material explores the commercial soundscape that surrounds us.
And it raises a question: What makes a sound worth sampling?
Is it the rarity of the record where you discovered it?
Or is it what you hear in that sound that nobody else has noticed?
Sampling Has Become More Complicated, Not Less
There's another important dimension to this story.
You might assume that the internet has made sampling easier.
After all, there are more recordings available to discover than at any previous point in history.
But discovering a recording and obtaining permission to use it are two very different things.
Chater explained to MusicRadar that clearing samples has become increasingly difficult and expensive, particularly as investment firms acquire ownership of music catalogs.
For artists whose music depends on combining numerous recordings, those costs can become significant.
A single composition might contain fragments controlled by multiple rights holders, each requiring permission.
And while digital tools have made manipulating audio more accessible, they haven't eliminated the legal complexities surrounding copyrighted recordings.
This creates an interesting contradiction.
Musicians have more material available to explore than ever before, yet using that material commercially can be increasingly complicated.
For The Avalanches, whose identity is closely connected to sampling, it's not a minor consideration. It directly influences how their music can be created and released.
Even Their Recording Equipment Has Changed
The group's evolution extends beyond where they find samples.
In the MusicRadar interview, Chater also discussed the transition from hardware samplers to software-based production, including Pro Tools.
Hardware samplers once imposed significant technical limitations.
Memory was restricted. Editing could be cumbersome. Building elaborate arrangements required patience and ingenuity.
But those limitations also shaped how musicians worked.
Modern software provides vastly greater flexibility, allowing producers to manipulate, arrange, and process recordings in ways that would once have required expensive equipment and considerable effort.
Still, greater flexibility doesn't automatically mean greater creativity.
There's something to be said for the immediacy of physical equipment, just as there's something special about discovering an unexpected recording in a dusty crate.
The tools change, but the challenge remains the same: turning an interesting sound into meaningful music.
Their New Album Has a Physical-Format Exclusive
The Avalanches' fourth album, No Bad Memories, arrives October 16, 2026.
The record features an unusually diverse collection of collaborators, including Jamie xx, Karen O, Rivers Cuomo, Mike Patton, Suzanne Ciani, Panda Bear, and Haruomi Hosono.
It's a lineup that reflects the group's willingness to connect different musical worlds.
There's also an interesting detail for collectors.
The track "Evergreen Altar," featuring Vegyn, is exclusive to the vinyl, CD, and cassette editions.
Meanwhile, the digital version includes its own exclusive material, meaning the different formats aren't necessarily identical listening experiences.
The vinyl edition is a double LP, with several colored variants available.

It's a curious decision from a group that has moved much of its creative discovery away from physical records.
But perhaps it shouldn't be surprising.
The Avalanches may have changed how they find sounds, but they haven't abandoned the idea that an album can be something carefully assembled, explored, and experienced.
Maybe the Collection Was Never the Point
As someone who spends considerable time listening to, collecting, and evaluating vinyl records, I find Chater's decision particularly interesting.
There's a natural tendency among collectors to associate the size of a collection with its significance.
More records. Rarer pressings. Better condition. More complete discographies.
But a collection of 15,000 records doesn't necessarily mean more than a carefully chosen collection of 200.
The value can also come from the connection we have with those recordings.
For The Avalanches, the original collection served a creative purpose. It was a vast library of musical possibilities.
When the group's methods changed, perhaps keeping thousands of records simply became less important.
That doesn't diminish vinyl or the experience of discovering music through physical media.
It illustrates something collectors sometimes forget.
The purpose of owning records isn't necessarily to own as many as possible.
It's what those records bring into our lives.
For some people, that's the pleasure of listening. For others, it's preserving history, discovering forgotten artists, or connecting with music that means something deeply personal.
For The Avalanches, it was finding fragments of sound that could become something entirely new.
And now they're finding those fragments in places most of us wouldn't think to listen.
Here's what I'm curious about: If you had 15,000 records and could keep only 200, how would you decide which ones stayed?
Would you keep your most valuable pressings, your best-sounding albums, or the records that mean the most to you?
Let me know in the comments.
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