Vinyl is back, in a big way. Just look at the resurgence of sales that have been taking place in the last five years.
It’s also evidences in all those who got involved in last year’s Record Store Day with independent stores celebrating in the form of free in-house performances and exclusive deals on limited album releases. Fair to say, the spirit of the day resided with those who entered the shop to do one thing only: buy a shit-load of records.
That being said, would the numbers of sales have been as high, or would you yourself have even dared enter a record store on its day of celebration if you had to pay for the privileges of record shopping, including service, knowledge, and above all, retail expertise.
Hypothetically, would you pay to shop at a record store?
It’s a bizarre concept, but one that has been employed in other industries before.
As reported by lifehacker, Celiac Supplies, a gluten-free supermarket in Queensland, made headlines when they introduced a ‘browsing fee’ as part of their store policy.
Enforcing the fee in response to shoppers systematically exploiting the specialised retailer for product references without buying anything up-front and on-site, the manager justified their bold move stating:
“I’ve had a gut full of working and not getting paid. I’m not here to dispense a charity service for Coles and Woolworths to make more money.”
The competition felt by independent businesses comes from two sides of the spectrum; one is the silver-spoon-in-mouth corporations and the other is the Internet. Both are tough and draw reciprocal sympathy from those involved in the independent industry, including Nate Nott, co-owner of Polyester Records in Melbourne.
“I understand that it’s coming from a place of frustration,” says Nott when asked about Celiac Supplies’ introduction of a fee for their expert services in response to such pressures.
Independent record stores, like Polyester Records, have also felt the brunt of these competitive forces for a while now.
”We’ve been dealing with this for a lot longer than other retail stores out there,” explains Nott. “[With] music being available online to download either legally or illegally, for the better part of the last kind of 8-10 years.”
However the issue of consumer opportunism which surrounds the implementation of a browsing fee in the Queensland store’s case is not as “clear cut” for retailers like Polyester, says Nott, due to the fact that it is hard to “pinpoint” a customer’s motive when browsing at a record store.
“Why pay for the expert music advice of a record store employee when the web, and its open democracy of free information, is readily available?”Nott differentiates his product from those like clothing or specialised gluten-free foods where the issue of expertise is “a little more evident”. With records, elaborates the co-owner, “you’re not trying on something to fit”.
The question of would you shop to pay to at a record store when presented to any consumer seems almost rhetorical. The answer is obvious: of course not.
However what underlies this seemingly simplistic question and the notion of a ‘browsing fee’, is a two-pronged argument for both the relevance and existence of the record salesperson and the record itself.
Both of which have been arguably threatened, possibly nullified, by the contemporary “digital age” and its undermining of the in-house ‘expert’.
It is safe to say that the Internet has directly influenced the evolution of music consumption, with streaming services, such as Spotify accounting for 20% of digital revenues globally.
However it is not just the rapid advancements made in music consumption and marketing that can be held purely responsible for a gradual undervaluing of physical stores and their products.
Why pay for the expert music advice of a record store employee when the web, and its open democracy of free information, is readily available?
From this point of view, the proliferation of resources offered by the Internet can be seen as deconstructing the notion of the modern-day ‘expert’, ultimately undermining an elitist and professionalised concept of an authority figure in a specialised field.
Isn’t everyone an ‘expert’ when opinions on all matters, from the most under-rated Dylan album through to the cheapest music streaming service, can be found at the click of mouse in a number of blogs?
Despite challenges faced by independent record retailers, the arguments for enforcing costs for specialised services, as a means of combating fair-weathered consumers exploiting free advice offered by a salesperson, are ultimately made redundant when put into context.
In the face of rising digital sales and an expanding online market, it can still be argued that the physical form of the record and the salesperson of said record are still relevant to contemporary music consumerist culture.
The generalisation that the digitalisation of music, such as streaming and downloads, is nullifying records is ridiculous. Both forms are incompatible, as they are not vying for the same type of consumer, let alone the same market space.
Downloads, as a by-product of the Internet, are in a realm of their own, one founded in sound bytes, which are purchased by and marketed to a certain type of iPod-using consumer.
Conversely, a record is representative of a tangibility found in its physical format, and is symptomatic of an in-store grassroots culture established generations a go.
Moreover, the vinyl record – as a product – has evolved into something other than a form of music consumption. Laden with cultural and historic connotations, vinyl holds a certain aesthetic value that further differentiates them.
“Ultimately, the service that independent record retailers provide is priceless, and that it should remain that way.”It’s safe to say that for many an audiofile, they are fetishised items—cultural artifacts that call to mind a sepia-infused, ideal projection of the past.
Despite the argument that the traditionally-conceived idea of the salesperson ‘expert’ has been effectively killed by the online consumer, it could be counter-argued that the aforementioned record geek behind the cash register is not extinct but has undergone a resurrection in some respects.
According to Edward Docx at Prospect Magazine, characteristic of contemporary consumerist culture, a counter-intuitive desire “to become reacquainted with the spellbinding narrative of expertise” forms part of the consumerist pathos.
Where despite posturing as self- sufficient online consumers independent from a stifling authority head there is also “a universal yearning for some kind of offline authenticity.”
This “yearning” can be perceived as manifesting in the current Gen Y revival of buying records from brick and mortar record retailers. Where consumers, in a fashion, are trying to re-establish the previously obliterated mentor-expert dynamic with the ‘knowledgeable’ record retailer.
Nathan Nott from Polyester Records inadvertently reinforces the reinstated role that both he and his employees play in the consumer-retailer dynamic explaining “we’re essentially attempting to curate the store for people who still enjoy buying music as a physical product”.
The deliberate use of the word “curate” articulates both the aesthetic artisan-nature that the record has been elevated to and the anti-authoritarian attitude that Nott and his staff maintain as experts in their field who ultimately “stand by their opinions.”
Theory aside, one of the most compelling arguments against enforcing ‘browsing fees’ in record shops resides with the adaptability brick and mortar retailers employ in the face of a changing industry.
Nott sees the strategy of a browsing fee enforced by the likes of Celiac Supplies as one steeped in negative reinforcement, which ultimately polarises and undermines the customer-retailer relationship that epitomises the brick and mortar retail industry—the ultimate act of retail self-sabotage, treating the customer as the ‘enemy’ to possible profit and thus isolating them.
“Reinventing” customer service and “giving people a good reason” to patronise a store is, for Nott, the only way to stay ahead of the pack and deliver what others can’t.
“We’re hosting events, doing all these extra things that you’ve never had to do in retail,” explains the Polyester co-owner, as a means of meeting the customer halfway and providing a community-driven interactive experience.
With the vinyl resurgence in full swing it’s fair to say that the service that Polyester and other independent record retailers provide is priceless, and that it should remain that way.
Polyester Records have two locations around Melbourne; 288 Flinders Lane, Melbourne (between Degraves and Elizabeth Streets), and 387 Brunswick Street, Fitzroy. Find them online here or better yet, pop into one of their stores and have a chat with a staff member.
