My husband likes to tease me because I just can’t let go of physical music. To me, buying an album shouldn’t be about hitting download and receiving a bunch of files. Instead it should be about spending time pouring over liner notes and reading the thank yous to see which artists made guest appearances and what your favourite musician says to his fans.
Does anyone else remember spending hours in record stores? My mum used to leave my in Brashs while she’d do the grocery shopping and I’d spend forever staring at the cassettes and CDs, planning my next purchase. Even better were the days when I’d catch the bus after school to Rices Bookshop and pour over their exhaustive range of vinyl. That’s where I picked up Bon Jovi’s Slippery When Wet, Wham’s Make It Big, and Poison’s Open Up and Say … Ahh! I was thrilled to search the internet to find Rices is still there on Newcastle’s Hunter Street, and it’s still selling records. There’s even the odd website, like iOldies Music, popping up to as an alternative to the digital download sites.
Because the sad reality is, so many record stores haven’t been so lucky. My beloved Brashs folded many years ago. Independent record stores have almost gone the way of the dinosaurs. Perhaps our kids don’t care whether they can spend hours thumbing through collections of vinyl as I did, but I like to think that’s not the case. After all, ARIA reported in September that vinyl sales increased by more than 70 percent last year. Surely it’s not just the old fogies buying it, right?
We all think about this sort of stuff around Record Store Day, but an annual buying frenzy can’t sustain these beautiful businesses. Next time you see a record store, I think you owe it to yourself to go in and buy something. Anything. If we all did that, maybe we can prevent so many of those hallowed stores that have brought so much joy to music lovers from closing their doors.
Image source: Spencer Hickman @ Flickr