It seems lately the entire idea of a record store belongs in a museum. Some of the quotes on the artist quote page of the Record Store Day website are so drenched in nostalgia, you’d think the shelves have long since been relegated to a back room in the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. Not so. They fight, they scratch, they claw, they stay open, and part of the reason (or so I like to believe) is that record stores are museums of a sort.

Record stores contain art in a browseable setting, enriching your life at your pace. They don’t even charge admission. If you are inspired and/or in the market, you can buy something. They might tell you not to loiter, but it’s always o.k. to linger.

Independent record stores are the kind that will tear shrink wrap off a work to give you a listen. Maybe the kid behind the counter has no idea what you handed her, but the slightly older guy cruising the stacks (fellow customer? store owner? does it matter?) is more than happy to point out the newer/older/solo work that you might also be interested in. It’s a community based on the appreciation of art. Not art as commerce, but art. Even the counter jockey working for minimum wage picked this thankless job over countless others for the store discount that makes disks there only slightly less affordable than at Target.

As the chains started to dominate in sales, the indies I knew started to work on presentation. They’d work with a local college station to curate a cap full of approved budding artists. They’d schedule in-store sets with touring acts. They’d theme it up with a solid selection of disks timed to the holiday du jour.

Today, the competition is not so much a chain or “big box store” selling for $2.50 less across town. Those stores are just as vulnerable these days. It’s iTunes, Amazon, and the list of online stores we ourselves recommend over to the right, never mind the pirating and focus on other entertainment options like video games and DVDs.

I love Amie Street. I’m very satisfied with my eMusic subscription. Buying music in a high quality MP3 format over the Internet is what I knew we had to fight for when I wrote all of those “Beating the Drum” columns last year, but none of that replaces the act of physically putting yourself in the music. That only happens at a real record store. Not the CD department at Best Buy. Not iTunes, but a store dedicated to music.

It’s not about nostalgia — though if it’s been a while since you visited a record store that might be the most powerful feeling you get at first. If you go back on a semi-regular basis, I expect the dominant sense will be this — surrounding yourself with music is very centering, even soulful. The music being played at any given time might be just awful, and I’ve left the ear buds in on several trips to the local indie store, but there’s something about cruising the racks in no particular order that conjures ghosts of dead rock stars, scrappy bands and unsung heroes.

It’s a kind of consumerism that makes me feel like a curator of the unknown, judging art by its cover, its reputation and my guts. I’ve gone home with some dogs in the little plastic bag, but I’ve rarely just plain regretted a purchase. The experience is part of it, and if you get 90 cents on the dollar in quality music on top of that, you have come out well ahead. I understand that you can pre-listen on MP3 blogs and MySpace to erase all doubt before your 30 second transaction sends the tunes instantly to your iPod without the lousy tracks numbers 4, 8 and 13. It’s still worth it, and I expect after a few trips you’ll agree.

Saturday is Record Store Day. I have no idea where I’ll be as having a family means my Saturdays are not always my own. That said, I’m happy someone’s doing something so that the indie stores have a reason to straighten their clothes and hope for more than the further dwindling of foot traffic. I will be back in a record store soon, though. Not to support their cause, but my own.

For more information, visit the Record Store Day site.

Lyle Lovett - Record Lady

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