It's Saturday morning and I'm heading to the record store, albeit the digital one via my online music account. As I mentioned in my last installment, Vinyl is my ex girlfriend. Undoubtedly, she'd be a bit unhappy about my visiting this record store, and she'd be right - it's a pretty shallow visit. This kind of store pretty much cuts out the experience of being in a record store, and that's an experience that a music enthusiast/music snob rather enjoys. I broke up with Vinyl long ago, but over the years, I have never had anything but good things to say about her - and I always liked going to her house, record stores.
I've never been much for the bigger corporate chain record stores - I tend to favor smaller chains and independent stores. For one thing, the prices are usually better at the smaller stores. More important, the selections are usually better in the independent stores. Bigger chains have all the stuff that is aimed at the general buying public - fine for people whose tastes run solely off of what's on the radio, not good at all for someone like myself who spends much more time on musical side roads, and likes it there.
For starters, when you walk into a record store, there's music playing. Walk into the right record store and you'll likely find something playing that is every bit as cool as what you came in for in the first place. If you're anything like me, you may have several things in mind, or nothing at all and just be in the mood to look for something different to hear. The very act of spending a bit of time in a record store is, to me at least, an experience I enjoy for numerous reasons. One of those reasons is clutter. Clutter never looked so good as it does in an independent record store. I'm not talking about the kind of clutter where you can't find anything, I'm talking about the kind of clutter where you can find too much - the kind of clutter where you can find everything. As comedian Steven Wright once said:
You can't have everything - where would you put it?
Maybe I can't. But when I walk into a record store, in that world, I feel like I want everything, and I feel like I can have it. This kind of everything does require a bit of real estate mind you - but I'm okay with that. Few things in the way of material possessions come anywhere near the comfort of a large collection of recorded music on the shelves. Once when I was having dinner at a friend's house, a group of us were talking about the number of compact discs we had. On that particular evening, my number was higher than anyone else - and by a long shot. That's not my point. What happened next, was my host saying something that really got me thinking: How in the world could you ever listen to that much music? My response was to the effect of, how could I not?
There doesn't seem to be an end in sight to my finding new music and different artists - nor do I wish there to be. I guess it dwindles down a bit from time to time, but it always surges again and my desk becomes littered with Post-It notes of songs by artists that I want to hear more of. I have to say I miss the days of walking into a record store and leaving with a stack records under my arm. Nothing, at least in my world, is a better shopping experience than that. You don't get that with MP3 formatted music.
Standing in a record store and gazing at cool new releases, or music that I've yet to add to my library and listening to something I may never have thought to add to it, is a very good place to be. I'm there ultimately to do something for my ears and my very soul - but standing there, wandering around and flipping through possibilities is good for all the other senses too. In contrast, when I hear a friend tell me how he found a site that allowed him to get everything that the Beatles ever put out, and do so for free via downloading the files, it bugs me. Why? Because that music is not only worth having, it's worth paying for - and I like the thought of thinking I want it enough to pay for it. As a friend in Nashville put it, today's younger generation seems to feel that they have a God-given right to free music. Dislike.
I've spent a small fortune on recorded music, and I've done so because it means something to me. It's more than just background music. MP3s have one thing going for them - the song itself. But the song itself suffers due to the lack of higher quality fidelity. I never thought I'd say it, but I live with that when I buy, and listen to music in this format. Everything else suffers. No cover art wow factor. You can't hand it to a friend and tell 'em to check it out. Unless you have it playing, no one is going to notice it and ask, or comment on it. It is, what music is all about in the first place, a feast for the ears. In a geeky, musical snob kind of way, I like a lot of that other stuff that has nothing to do with what's going on for the ears. It is pretty cool to have the convenience of carrying around a large music collection in a device that's about the size of a pack of smokes - I can't deny that. As a matter of fact, I love that - but not as much I love Vinyl.
If you've ever seen the movie, High Fidelity, or read the book, Songbook, then you have a very good idea about the kinds of senses I'm talking about here. Some of the conversations that take place in record stores are worth taking in as well - and this was captured perfectly in the movie I mention. I suppose you could say that I'm a bit of a music snob, at least in terms of recorded music and being a bit proud of the good taste in music that I've often been told I have - and I don't feel the need to be told that, as much as I appreciate it when others notice it, because I love walking through life with my taste in music. Being in a record store and overhearing conversations with various customers and the staff is a bit like being a celebrity and being out in public and not getting recognized - if that makes any sense. You stand there silent, taking it all in with your ears, the music, the conversation, all while making your way through the alphabet with your fingers and your eyes - you see, or touch something and the radio in your mind plays something that you're either missing,or that you want...and off you go, maybe you even think about where you're going after you get to the section you're walking towards. It's an experience that takes me away from all other thoughts. If I'm shopping for groceries, I want to get what I need and get it over with. If I'm shopping for clothes, pretty much the same thing. But if I'm shopping for music, I want to savor the experience - it's almost never a one and done trip. Something else always grabs me and makes me think. I walk by things in a music store and it changes what I'll leave with. That never happens in an online music store, because it's the most shallow of retail experiences. It's quicker and more efficient - but I seldom come away from the experience richer than I intended, like I often do when I'm in a record store.
I get the convenience factor of MP3s, and I like it more than I ever thought I would, but there is no way I'll ever like it as much as I love Vinyl - and that's true regardless of whether or not we get back together. If MP3 were the jealous type, she'd hit me with the fact that I'll never love her the way I love Vinyl and how Vinyl was perfect - and I'd have to man up and admit it, even if only to myself. I doubt I could put up a front and say that's not true - not even to spare her feelings. For the record - some pun intended, I still like holding and reading actual books too. Matter of fact, I haven't caved to the whole Kindle type of reading experience - yet.
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