Summary

The text discusses the contrasting experiences of shopping for music at record stores versus the now-obsolete practice of renting movies from video stores, emphasizing the joy of discovering music without a specific agenda.

Abstract

The author reflects on the bygone era of video store rentals, where the urgency to secure a popular movie before it was sold out was paramount. In contrast, the record store experience is presented as one of leisurely discovery and serendipity, where the absence of urgency and the abundance of albums create a treasure-hunting atmosphere. The joy of record shopping is found in the unexpected finds that become must-haves, and the article suggests that the best record store experiences come from having a general idea of what you want but being open to exploration. The author notes the financial considerations of buying new versus used records and highlights the life-changing potential of stumbling upon an album that wasn't initially on your radar.

Opinions

The video store model was based on a manufactured sense of urgency and competition for new releases.
The record store model thrives on the illusion of abundance and the customer's lack of urgency, which encourages discovery and exploration.
The best time to visit a record store is when you're not looking for anything specific, allowing for serendipitous discoveries.
Record stores often create a sense of community and loyalty among customers, enhanced by customer service and loyalty programs.
The cost of new records can be prohibitive, but the pricing of used records often offers surprising value.
Chance encounters with unexpected albums can lead to impactful and life-changing experiences.

Music buying

The Best Time to Go to the Record Store is When You Aren’t Really Looking for Anything

And that’s what makes these places great.

Those here of my vintage, maybe a bit older or a bit younger, will remember what they’d need to do on a Friday afternoon if they had plans to watch a movie or two over the weekend.

We had to be at the video store by 5 pm at the latest, lest all of the popular releases were sold out. That’s right, you had to have the commodity of the videotape in your hands. You had to compete with others to ensure that your entertainment plans could come to fruition. If you left it too late, you’d be stuck watching Caddyshack again.

So you’d have that going for you…which is nice.

I imagine if we’d had phones with cameras then, we’d have seen some epic battles uploaded onto YouTube between two people duking it out for the last copy of Top Gun in 1986.

Like the diamond industry, the manufactured supply and demand conundrum of this situation was the genius of this business model. Until it wasn’t.

The relentless march of technological progress and all.

The record store game seems to work in the opposite way — or at least that’s what I’ve discovered in returning to it over the past few months.

If you go with no particular objective, then it doesn’t matter when you go.

Whereas with video stores, you had to go there, with record shops, you don’t really need to. And that seems to be the genius of that model. Because every time I go to one, there are always a lot of people there.

Or maybe it just seems that way due to the stores usually being in small, confined spaces and packed to the ceiling with product. Again, the genius of creating a sense of abundance that no one will ever get through, even if they dedicated their whole life to it.

Kind of like some social media platforms I can think of.

However, it’s not an illusion. There really are that many records. All right in front of you.

Back to people of my vintage again, if I may. There was indeed a time when you had to go to the record store. A new album by one of your favourites being released on a specific day that you absolutely had to have that day occasionally had you lining up before opening time.

I suppose that still could be the case. But the 21st century ensures that even if you don’t manage to get it on that day, you still have plenty of options for listening to it. And consequently taking on an attitude of “I’ll get it when I get it.”

But those few and far between days aside, the real joy of record shopping comes when you may have a few things in mind but are open to flipping through the bins to look for them. It’s also important that you are in no rush. And therein lies another contrast to the video store, where you really just wanted to get in and out like a fiddler’s elbow.

It’s here that the magic lies, the no-rush, nowhere-else-to-be flipping. It’s what you chance upon while looking but are now convinced that you will not leave this place without.

Simple Minds, Midnight Oil, Frankie Goes to Hollywood, Bryan Ferry, and Bob Seger all in one go. A real mishmash all in one armload. And you had no idea you’d be walking out with these gems.

Finding the record store where this is virtually guaranteed takes a while. It involves some trial and error. Of the five that are local to me that I have been to, I am glad to report that I have found a particular one. It focuses on the genre that I’m looking for. It has helpful customer service. And it has a customer loyalty card.

I see what they did there.

The cost of buying a brand-new record makes this an expensive hobby to undertake. But the price of used records is often surprising.

Let’s return to that night when you got to the video store at 10 pm. The display racks at the front were cleared out by then, so what to do? Maybe you’d cut losses and just go home empty-handed. Or maybe you’d browse and finally find their one copy of Chinatown, Mean Streets, The Deer Hunter, or Full Metal Jacket instead.

And maybe that night, a movie that you weren’t looking for changed your life.

Maybe at the record store, they didn’t have Depeche Mode Momento Mori the minute you wanted it, but they did have Music for the Masses for $8.99.

And then the first time that you put it on, it changed your life too.