Diggin' the Crates: The Record Store Mystique

For roughly two decades a little store front called Chris' Warped Records was one of the main hubs of Cleveland, Ohio's underground music scene. Staffed by knowledgeable audiophiles, its selection boasted albums (in wax and plastic) not found anywhere else in the city and it served as both a place to pick up tickets to any number of local shows, and as a place to host shows as well. The walls were littered with bills for bands and specialty shops, and the speakers beat with the pulse of the Cleveland community.

Roughly 20 years after it first opened its doors, Chris' closed.

In the summer of 2003 a group of friends opened a small, upstart record store just north of the Ohio State campus in Columbus, Ohio. All display merchandise was open and would be played over the store speakers upon request. The laid back, friendly staff were always ready with a helpful "you might like this, too" and it was not uncommon to walk in and join in a discussion about the latest show at Bernie's or Little Brother's.

Two years later, Sound on Sound closed.

These former Ohio gems are merely two of the 3100 records stores (half of them independent) that the New York Times reported closing in the last 5 years. In the same article, however, the Times reports that at least 2400 shops still exist across the country.

This is a boon for music fans because brick and mortar stores offer far more than just a place to buy increasingly archaic data formats. In support of National Record Store Day* (which was covered in several places by Listen In) Joe Satriani said:

Independent record stores are a vital source of the ever-changing cool. They respond to the street faster than the chains can. They help us telegraph to each other what's "now" and what's not, what we should be telling our friends and neighbors about, and what's about to take off, or, no longer hot. Musical trends are confirmed at the local independent record store, by you and me. Hanging out, listening to something you've never heard before, being enlightened by the staff, getting into something new, finding that old recording you've been searching for, having your local band's newest offering stocked right next to major label stuff, it all happens at the local indie shop.

These aging but still spry establishments are a reference source and a font of knowledge. They offer music as a commodity, yes, but also as a community. Those still flipping through crates of vinyl and racks of CDs are finding not only a specific album, but a specific experience. Commiserating with fellow shoppers, listening to suggestions from clerks, and feeling the thrill of the accidental find are what these souls search for. The atmosphere of quiet appreciation (or loud appreciation depending on what's playing) is almost enough to offset the overwhelming aura of being in the presence of so much great art just waiting to be unleashed. Cameron Crowe describes these places thus:

The record store. Where true fandom begins. It's the soul of discovery, and the place where you can always return for that mighty buzz. The posters. The imports. The magazines. The discerning clerks, paid in vinyl, professors of the groove. Long live that first step inside, when the music envelopes you and you can't help it. You walk up to the counter and ask the question that begins the journey -- "what is that you're playing?" Long live the record store, and the guys and girls who turn the key, and unlock those dreams, every day.

Music does not begin and end with a stereo or an iPod. It's an experience spanning writer's brain to record studio to dingy store to listener's ear occurring simultaneously in thousands of places around the world. It lives in myriad mediums speaking to countless hearts and minds, concentrating and amplifying in the places where it's most revered.

Independent record store owners realize this, as do fans, vinyl-holics, and bands like The Bad Plus.

None of us would be here if it weren't for independent record stores. It's the place you go to get inspired; to find something off the beaten path. They are a wonderful resource to discover new local talent or something you can't find anywhere else. You believe in the place because it's run by music lovers. You trust, take chances and discover new things. You leave with an armful of records feeling like you're part of a community that supports MUSIC. And you can't wait to get home and listen.

This is not to knock digital retailers, nor those who shop at them. In the end the music is the biggest part of the equation, and each listener will experience it in their own way.

It's not a phenomenon that exists in a vacuum, however. Throughout the entire history of modern music, independent stores have nurtured communities from which sprang artists who are now iconic. To frequent these shops is to be further submerged in the process of music. It's to be plugged into to a different way of absorbing and appreciating these collections of beats, melodies, and rhythms.

This is not a facet of music that can be easily replaced by magazines, or music blogs, or Twitter. Myspace, for all its ubiquity, remains, to an extent, detached and anonymous. Independent record stores, much like the wares they offer, specialize in commonality, and an unabashed longing to be part of a greater whole. They are Sirens, buried among grocery stores and dentist offices, whose songs appeal to anyone and everyone as long as they are willing to listen.

*All quotes from Record Store Day website

Crossposted to ListenInMusic.com.