Have you ever wondered what the small etchings near the label on the record are, Reagan Gavin Rasquinha informs us that they are not decorative, but tell a small but interesting story to aficionados as well as the curious…

Vinyl records aren’t just music carriers, they’re physical tangible documents. They feel different. They look like nostalgia. Even though they are prized by audiophiles and revered for the sound output. And more than anything else in modern media, they tell stories in ways most people never notice. Not just in what they play, but in how they’re made. From the grooves to the dead wax, every record carries traces of its origin. It’s a quirk that people who like to do a deep dive into their hobby as well as purists, appreciate, also giving it that feeling of not just being a mass product. Artisanal, even though it’s not obviously but region specific and bearing the stamp of the hand behind the controls.

If you’ve ever really examined a vinyl record right near the center label, in the silent runout groove - the place where there are no concentric lines - you might have spotted something odd: a tiny string of carved numbers and letters etched into the wax like a secret note. These are called matrix numbers. 

These codes often contain the catalogue number of the release, a code for the pressing plant, and sometimes even initials. They are those of the mastering engineer who cut the original lacquer. That’s the first stage of making a record, when the audio is physically carved into a lacquer disc by hand or machine, before it’s turned into metal stampers used to press thousands of copies. If you see ‘STERLINGA RL’ scratched in, for instance, that’s Robert Ludwig, a mastering legend. If you see ‘Porky’ or ‘A Porky Prime Cut’, you’ve found a disc handled by George Peckham, whose engravings have become cult collector markers in themselves.

Each pressing has its own story, and these markings are tasty clues… Easter eggs.. breadcrumbs. Two records with the same cover and label might sound completely different depending on which mastering engineer worked on it, which country it was pressed in, or what generation of tape was used. Serious collectors spend hours comparing these dead wax etchings, hunting for the ‘hot wax’. Basically, the one that sounds the best. A hot topic for debate among music enthusiasts no doubt over many mugs of chilled beer and more.

One country in particular stands out in vinyl lore: Japan. 

Ask any collector, and you’ll hear it repeated like gospel that Japanese pressings are among the best. Why? It’s a mix of perfectionism and respect. Japanese vinyl often used virgin, high-quality vinyl compounds with minimal surface noise. Mastering engineers in Japan were known for their clean, precise touch, and often worked from second-generation tapes flown in from the U.S. or UK. Add to that immaculate packaging like heavy sleeves (the packaging quality), rice-paper inner sleeves, and obi strips and it’s no wonder Japanese LPs became prized objects.

And then there’s the matter of weight. You’ll hear about 180-gram vinyl, or even 200-gram editions. The thinking goes: heavier vinyl equals better sound. In reality, weight isn’t a guarantee of audio quality, but it just makes the record more durable, more resistant to warping, and a bit more stable on the turntable like when you play it loud. What really matters is the mastering and pressing quality. A well-cut 140-gram LP can easily outperform a noisy or poorly-mastered 180-gram disc. But yes, heavier vinyl often feels better… like holding a piece of permanence.

Another often overlooked aspect is sibilance.

It’s that harsh ‘s’ sound that sometimes distorts, especially on vocals. Think of Sean Connery pronouncing ‘S’. It’s more than an annoyance; it’s a sign something’s not right. Sibilance can creep in for a few reasons: bad mastering, a misaligned stylus, or poor tracking. But it’s also a quirk of the format. The inner grooves of a record are more tightly packed, which makes high-frequency sounds harder to reproduce accurately. That’s why some albums front-load the brighter, more dynamic songs toward the outer edge.

Then there’s color. 

Vinyl now comes in every hue imaginable. White, red, translucent blue, even glow-in-the-dark. And picture discs, where full-color images are pressed beneath clear vinyl. These look stunning, but do they sound as good? Usually not. Black vinyl contains carbon black, which helps reduce static and adds strength to the material. Colored vinyl tends to be noisier, though advances in pressing tech have made that gap narrower. Picture discs (novelty value), however, are built differently essentially a printed label sandwiched between clear vinyl layers and often suffer in sound fidelity. They’re more for display than deep listening. Still, collectors and fans cherish them. Because vinyl isn’t just about sound, it’s about the object, the experience, the moment. The slight crackle before the music starts, the deliberate act of lowering the needle, the artwork big enough to get lost in. Vinyl demands presence. You can’t scroll past it. Neither can you shuffle or obviously create playlist or even record your own. That’s why I personally feel that vinyl is great for listening to some really good albums that have stood the test of time usually from beginning to end that’s what it’s really all about in this day and age and if you look at some of the best selling vinyl records today, you will undoubtedly find a whole list of Epic albums. For everything else, of course there are the streaming services.

That’s what makes vinyl special. Not just nostalgia. Not just analog warmth. But the fact that it’s made by people, touched by hands, etched with codes, pressed with care or not. The process of making the vinyl and the entire aspect of it being part of the musical process is what makes it quite appealing at the end of the day and it’s not just a piece of plastic.

Hidden Etchings on Classic Albums

These aren’t factory errors or leftovers from production. They’re part of the record’s mythology. Inscriptions found in the runout groove — just past the final track and before the label — often reveal where a record was pressed, who mastered it, and sometimes what kind of spirit was behind it.

Led Zeppelin II – RL Hot Mix

Early US pressings of this album carry the initials “RL” etched near the center. That stands for Robert Ludwig, the engineer who originally mastered the album. His version was so loud and dynamic it caused tracking issues on consumer turntables. Atlantic Records quietly replaced it with a tamer cut. The RL version, if you can find it, is raw, explosive, and now legendary.

Pink Floyd – The Wall

Across the four sides, small phrases are etched that form a loop. Side A reads “In the flesh?”, Side B says “Isn’t this where…”, Side C continues with “…we came in?”, and Side D finishes with “This is where we…”. Together they reflect the album’s circular structure, where the ending bleeds right back into the beginning.

Black Sabbath – Master of Reality (UK Vertigo)

Pressings of this heavy-hitting Sabbath record sometimes show the names “Porky” or “Pecko Duck” in the runout. These are the signatures of George Peckham, one of the great mastering engineers of the era. His cuts are known for their warmth and power. If it says Porky, chances are it sounds right.

Prince – Purple Rain

Some editions include sharp little etchings that read “We are against the 80s” on one side and “When the 80s are over…” on the other. Prince, always slipping messages between the lines, didn’t just make albums—he created coded experiences.

The Beatles – Sgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band (UK Mono)

In the runout area of many UK mono pressings, you’ll find the letters “KT.” That was a tax code marking from the time, not an engineer’s initials or a studio note. Still, it gives the record a sense of when and where it came from, almost like a postmark from a different era.

The Smiths – The Queen Is Dead

The runout etchings on original UK pressings offer two strange lines. Side A says “Them was rotten days.” Side B adds, “I dreamt about Stew last night.” They aren’t lyrics. They’re private. The kind of obscure detail that turned the band’s records into strange little journals.

How to read the codes 

Start by locating the matrix number. It’s usually a string of numbers and letters hand-etched or stamped between the last song and the label. It may be on both sides of the record and usually includes a code tied to the catalogue number of the album.

Look for extra letters or initials.

You might see something like “RL”, “GP”, “PORKY”, “STERLING”, or “MASTERDISK”. These often point to the mastering engineer or the studio.

For example:

RL = Robert Ludwig

GP = George Piros

PORKY or PECKO DUCK = George Peckham

STERLING = Mastered at Sterling Sound, New York

MASTERDISK = Mastered at Masterdisk Studios

Check for lacquer cut numbers.

A matrix like “A1” or “B3” often refers to the lacquer version. Lower numbers tend to mean earlier cuts, sometimes closer to the original mastering.

Plant codes can tell you where it was pressed.

Some plants used single-letter or number codes. For example, “SRC” stands for Specialty Records Corporation. A small logo like a “W” for Warner can also be a clue.

Messages and jokes aren’t uncommon.

Some engineers or bands would sneak in lines of text, messages, or jokes. They’re etched by hand, so they’re easy to miss, but once you know to look, you’ll start noticing them.

Compare both sides.

Side A and Side B might be mastered or pressed differently, especially on older records. The etchings on each side can help you spot mismatched discs or later reissues.

Use a flashlight and tilt the record.

Some markings are hard to see without proper light. Angle the record under a bright source and let the etching catch the light.

Keep notes.

If you’re building a collection, jot down matrix numbers and markings in a notebook or app. Some versions of the same album can sound completely different, and these details help track what you’ve got.

By Reagan Gavin Rasquinha

Reagan Gavin Rasquinha is a writer who moves between high culture and backroom blues, tracing the quiet revolutions that shape what we see, feel and hear.