Ten years ago, observers and owners of indie record shops decided they were in peril due to download culture and the incoming streaming-music market we all know and utilize today. In response, select retailers, along with Record Store Day (RSD) co-founders Michael Kurtz and Carrie Colliton, came up with a holiday that would celebrate the community built around brick-and-mortar stores with staff and customers who love vinyl (never, ever say “vinyls”).
Most of Tampa Bay’s local shops were largely unaware of the initial installment, and responses ranged from lukewarm to a full-on embrace. Tampa’s Mojo Books & Records and Daddy Kool (DK) in St. Pete, respectively, caught on by chance in years one and two, then dove right in. DK had rap act Twiztid signing autographs, and Mojo’s Melanie Cade told CL that RSD’s early message of urgency was exactly what their then-low-key shop needed a decade ago.
Steelworker Records owner Kenny Crum — who now caters to his customers’ adventurous sides by stocking obscure titles next to the usual suspects at his new Riverside Heights shop — was apprehensive and considered himself part of the “wait and see” group. To him, RSD seemed like an outgrowth of listening station programs where stores would have titles, good and bad, selected for them through store and distributor coalitions. “RSD seems to me a giant crutch for those same old systems and ideas,” Crum told CL.
Keith Ulrey, owner of Seminole Heights record shop Microgroove, was working at the since-shuttered Vinyl Fever at the time. He estimates that only five to 11 RSD exclusive titles were available in that initial year, when the focus truly was on celebrating a niche, and irreplaceable, strain of retail.
“Now it seems to focus more on the special releases, which is a shame. It’s still very communal and a great day, but definitely a different vibe.”
“Now it seems to focus more on the special releases, which is a shame.” Ulrey, 45, told CL. “It’s still very communal and a great day, but definitely a different vibe.”
He’s right. Things really are different for diehard (and casual) fans of vinyl.
A March 2017 report from the Recording Industry Association of America (RIAA) said that the entire U.S. music business brought in $7.65 billion in revenue last year. QZ.com says it’s the first double-digit bump in almost two decades. Streaming pulled in 68 percent of that ($3.93 billion), but the RIAA report also shows that U.S. vinyl album sales were up to $430 million in 2016. Vinyl made up 26 percent of total physical music shipments last year (its highest share since 1985), and this year’s list of RSD exclusives includes about 350 titles from myriad indie labels and all the major ones, too.
Stores hardly ever receive every single title they order, however, and it really is a crapshoot due to limited quantities. Still, fans hound stores to see what’s arrived and queue up early to get the most coveted pieces. RSD title artwork is even watermarked this year to combat the advance auction site market, as more and more titles have been showing up early on sites like eBay in recent years.
“When you see a title listed on an auction site before RSD, it’s almost certainly someone who has listed something they do not have in hand, and can’t guarantee they will have in hand,” RSD officials note on their website. “They’re going out to a store to try and get it like everyone else. They call it a ‘pre-order’ but since they’re not getting distributed to, it’s not a pre-order. It’s more like a scam, really.”
Ulrey, whose store will host a full afternoon of music complete with beer and pizza next door, is more blunt about the auction market. “Fuck the eBayers who take advantage of this shit. Seriously, just fuck ‘em. People that snag all the limited releases and then sell them for hundreds make a mockery of the day’s intent,” he said.
And it’s not like the stores — most of whom told CL that RSD revenue equals 5 to 7 percent of their annual sales — make a good profit on the special releases anyway. A shop’s pledge with RSD founders makes them promise to retail what they do receive within a certain window. Your favorite store may be selling an exclusive RSD 7-inch for $12.99, but there’s a good possibility that they paid $11 for it after shipping, ordering and credit card fees. Throw in the fact that the vinyl is unreturnable, and what you have is a pretty sticky situation.
All this isn’t meant to shit on RSD, or make fans angry at how big it’s grown. The fact that Tampa Bay’s indie shops — who all said they’d 100 percent survive without RSD — have a day to rally around is beyond special. At its core, and in its best form, RSD is still a much-needed nod to store owners who bust their asses for minimal margins and the patrons who also spend their hard-earned wages on physical copies of music. The RSD happenings detailed here are still shop-focused, and you will certainly feel like a part of your community if you show up, hang out and talk to someone.
The folks who run our local shops, naturally, love music. They live to serve (and influence) their customers’ tastes and curiosities. They cannot survive without the kid who spends the last of his or her paycheck on wax or the person who skips out of work early every Tuesday to spend time digging through a store’s new inventory. We, the people — most of us slaves to nugs of sound and the pretty packaging it comes in — cannot survive without these stores and the people who open and close them day in and day out.
Saturday is is Record Store Day, but every day is a good day to buy a record.
This article appears in Apr 13-20, 2017.