Last week, during my second flight to Los Angeles in just under two months, I had a chance to complete Appetite for Self-Destruction, a critique of the music industry’s march towards financial and artistic ruin over the course of a few decades. Written by Steve Knopper (Rolling Stone), it didn’t reveal much that I didn’t already know from my tenure in record retail for most of the ‘90s, but it was still an entertaining and engaging read, if a bit melancholic. One of the things I liked was Knopper's breakout examination of a few major mistakes and missteps made by the record industry at various crucial times. Some, such as the habit of suing your customers (made common practice by RIAA lawsuits in the early ‘00s) are blindingly obvious in their miscalculation. But two big ones – from my experiences, the two most important and influential decisions – really speak to my experiences as to why every single record store I’ve ever worked for is now dead.
Mistake #1 – Killing The Single
Growing up as a kid, I was envious of my mom’s carrying case of 45’s, many of which were in sandpaper-like condition from playing and replaying them. So when I grew of age to be a music consumer, I bought singles as well: first 45 RPM singles on vinyl (like the one in my lil' hand over there), then the cassette singles, then the first few waves of CD singles (including a few 3” CD singles). Two 45’s immediately leap to mind – “Can’t Get There From Here” by R.E.M. (bought at the Ben Franklin store in Grayling because I’d read about the band in Rolling Stone and was curious) and “Touch Me (I Want Your Body)” by ‘80s British bedenimed sexpot Samantha Fox (purchased at the Camelot Music in Traverse City’s Cherryland Mall both for the song as well as the '80s-racy photograph on the 45 sleeve). The purpose of buying singles is to get young teens accustomed to purchasing music; teens purchase the cheaper singles appropriate to their allowance-based incomes, and when the teens become adults and adjust their incomes upward, graduate to buying full albums and/or tapes. When the record companies made the conscious decision to eliminate singles and force consumers to buy full albums (albums often containing a few hits and a whole lotta filler), they eliminated the initiation of music buying habits in the youth. And when the youth found Napster and other file-swapping sites that allowed singles to be obtained at a great price point for the consumer (i.e., free), can you blame consumers for swelling the membership of these sites?
Mistake #2 – Pumping Up The Big Boxes
Before this mistake is explored in detail, a lingo lesson: “Big Box” in this case refers to stores such as the satanic troika of Wal-Mart, Circuit City and Best Buy, electronics outlets that have small music sections as a minuscule part of their overall inventory. "Big Box" stores are separate from smaller chains, such as Michigan Wherehouse Records (group photo of the staff at MWHR #4 in Mt. Pleasant, circa winter 1992), that cater more specifically to music. Starting in earnest in the mid-to-late ‘90s, the record companies started to invest time and attention (and money) towards the big box stores at the expense of smaller “mom & pop” outlets and chain stores. In other words, the big boxes could afford to buy larger quantities of product and sell them at lower prices (sometimes below cost in a “loss leader” fashion, where music is sold at a loss to spur customer traffic, which in theory should result in the aforementioned customers purchasing higher-margin items from the big box at a later date). This unspoken policy reached critical mass in the early ‘00s during my tenure at Record World in Petoskey; it would be cheaper for me to drive to Traverse City and buy multiple copies of new releases from Target or Best Buy to sell at Record World then it would be to buy them direct from our supplier. Is it any wonder that consumers voted with their wallets to bail on the smaller stores? And once the web became part of the experience (with online vendors such as iTunes and Amazon.com), the heyday of the record store was dead and buried. Once you don't have to ask a clerk for music information that the internet can provide more quickly (and often with far less attitude and body odor), then the last value-added element that separated smaller stores from the big boxes and online retailers vanished like Axe body spray in a stiff breeze.
Afterword
Mistake #1 – Killing The Single
Growing up as a kid, I was envious of my mom’s carrying case of 45’s, many of which were in sandpaper-like condition from playing and replaying them. So when I grew of age to be a music consumer, I bought singles as well: first 45 RPM singles on vinyl (like the one in my lil' hand over there), then the cassette singles, then the first few waves of CD singles (including a few 3” CD singles). Two 45’s immediately leap to mind – “Can’t Get There From Here” by R.E.M. (bought at the Ben Franklin store in Grayling because I’d read about the band in Rolling Stone and was curious) and “Touch Me (I Want Your Body)” by ‘80s British bedenimed sexpot Samantha Fox (purchased at the Camelot Music in Traverse City’s Cherryland Mall both for the song as well as the '80s-racy photograph on the 45 sleeve). The purpose of buying singles is to get young teens accustomed to purchasing music; teens purchase the cheaper singles appropriate to their allowance-based incomes, and when the teens become adults and adjust their incomes upward, graduate to buying full albums and/or tapes. When the record companies made the conscious decision to eliminate singles and force consumers to buy full albums (albums often containing a few hits and a whole lotta filler), they eliminated the initiation of music buying habits in the youth. And when the youth found Napster and other file-swapping sites that allowed singles to be obtained at a great price point for the consumer (i.e., free), can you blame consumers for swelling the membership of these sites?Mistake #2 – Pumping Up The Big Boxes
Before this mistake is explored in detail, a lingo lesson: “Big Box” in this case refers to stores such as the satanic troika of Wal-Mart, Circuit City and Best Buy, electronics outlets that have small music sections as a minuscule part of their overall inventory. "Big Box" stores are separate from smaller chains, such as Michigan Wherehouse Records (group photo of the staff at MWHR #4 in Mt. Pleasant, circa winter 1992), that cater more specifically to music. Starting in earnest in the mid-to-late ‘90s, the record companies started to invest time and attention (and money) towards the big box stores at the expense of smaller “mom & pop” outlets and chain stores. In other words, the big boxes could afford to buy larger quantities of product and sell them at lower prices (sometimes below cost in a “loss leader” fashion, where music is sold at a loss to spur customer traffic, which in theory should result in the aforementioned customers purchasing higher-margin items from the big box at a later date). This unspoken policy reached critical mass in the early ‘00s during my tenure at Record World in Petoskey; it would be cheaper for me to drive to Traverse City and buy multiple copies of new releases from Target or Best Buy to sell at Record World then it would be to buy them direct from our supplier. Is it any wonder that consumers voted with their wallets to bail on the smaller stores? And once the web became part of the experience (with online vendors such as iTunes and Amazon.com), the heyday of the record store was dead and buried. Once you don't have to ask a clerk for music information that the internet can provide more quickly (and often with far less attitude and body odor), then the last value-added element that separated smaller stores from the big boxes and online retailers vanished like Axe body spray in a stiff breeze.Afterword
Now, the question that still weighs on my mind is clear: "Is all this a bad thing?" I certainly miss the social experience of browsing through a record store; when I go to Los Angeles, I don't feel happy unless I hit Amoeba Music, and when I'm in Grand Rapids, I feel a compulsion to stop and shop at Vertigo Music. But with the help of the internet, I listen to and buy more music than ever before, so part of me sees these changes as beneficial. Then again, when I can find almost anything for free online in a matter of seconds, this ubiquity of "free" content cheapens and devalues a deep elaborative love for and appreciation of music. And that obviously sucks. It's just a shame that the record industry's worst enemy was the record industry, because with just a few historical tweaks, we might have the best of both worlds -- an industry that is vital & creative as well as financially lucrative for everyone involved in a fair and equitable fashion. Think about that the next time you download something for free.
Most interesting post. I personally enjoy buying physical CDs of most everything, because I like the booklet, the cover art, and the general idea of owning something physical. It definitely adds value to the product for me to receive something physical for my money, even if I mainly listen to it from my iTunes once I’ve imported the CD.
ReplyDeleteAs far as buying creates appreciation, I believe that is huge. In an age when music is simply consumed, much like food in America, without thought, the music itself does not require quality. This I think is part of the problems in the record industry. First they made bad music and sold it for too much (as you pointed out with the death of singles), which encourage people to download when that came on the scene, and then they continued making bad music, and music became background. It no longer was something you sat and listened to, but something to did other things to. For instance, I bet there are few people you could take off the street, sit down in a room, pick a genre of music of their choice, and have them just sit and listen to an album all the way through...just listen. People don’t view music as an art, as an expression, as something worthy on its own. They view music as that thing that fills the cracks.
I have personally bought almost all the music I have in my iTunes, and the rest, I’ve gotten from friends physical CDs. I don’t download. As a result, I only have about 2,000 songs in my library, but I’ve spent more time listening to that music, and analyzing, and appreciating that music than if I just download background filler.
Just as America has bred a society of overweight people who just eat to eat, we have already bred a society of listeners who just listen to listen, because just as the food is available in plenty and low quality, so is the music. As Devin Townsend says, “It's like a death becomes musical / It's musical.”
P.S. The black on white contrast is a little bit intense on the eyes. You may want to change it a little :)
Great comments, especially the "buying creates appreciation" hypothesis; when you can have something anywhere and anytime, it loses some aspect of intrinsic worth and value. In other words, just because I can buy a shamrock shake whenever I want doesn't mean I should. :-)
ReplyDeleteAnd thanks for the font suggestion...let's see how this goes for a while.