HMV and the demise of the record shop

The news that HMV had entered administration this week can't have surprised many but it was sad to hear nonetheless. For those in the industry every year there was plenty of talk of its decreasing profits and rumours of its impending demise but somehow it always managed to hang on. There's been a lot of talk about mismanagement, particularly the way it has reduced the music in its stores in recent years to make room for more electrical goods, but HMV has had some pretty difficult hurdles to get over in the past 10 years.
Most people cite the rise of downloading, legal and otherwise, and how late in the game they offered that service on its website but I'd say the more crucial problems came courtesy of the tax-dodging dominance of Amazon and the supermarkets undercutting them at every corner, using entertainment product as a loss-leader in order to draw people into its stores. Its pretty hard to compete with an American internet giant that is barely paying any tax and supermarkets who are virtually giving away some of the biggest titles of the year, titles that are the bread and butter of a chain like HMV, in order to entice people to do their weekly shopping with them.

I hope this isn't the end for HMV and it can be saved because I will miss being able to still pop out to the high street and buy an album I want, there just isn't the same feeling downloading something or ordering it from the internet. I was lucky enough to grow up in a time when you were never far from a record shop. There was a small independent down the road from my school but it was my local Our Price where I bought the majority of the first records in my collection, most of which I still have today. The record shop was a thing of wonder back then: racks of beautiful vinyl records waiting to be flicked through, their album art adding to the mystery of every album hinting what lay within; racks of CDs, so cool and modern yet oddly cold, and shelves of tidy cassettes, which lacked the romance of vinyl and the trendiness of CDs but could be easily popped into your Walkman and played the minute you left the store. The walls would always be plastered with posters of new and upcoming albums, often just pinned over old posters. I remember once asking for one when it came down (you could do that back then and they would keep it for you) and being rewarded with a huge cardboard cutout of Stevie Nicks which I then had to carry home on the bus. I still have that big, awkward, wonderful thing.

I often asked to listen to an album instore before buying it, that was one of the only ways to hear more obscure artists back then. It was one thing to read about how cool an artist or album was in a magazine and another thing to hear it: sometimes it was a complete letdown, other times an utter revelation. Sometimes you would just take your chances but I never had much money to do that so putting on those headphones at the desk at the back of the store to get a taste before you bought was a huge, huge help. I remember first hearing Elliott Smith that way and for a while his music ruled my ears and heart. Thank you Our Price for letting me hear Elliott for the first time.

Probably the most wonderous experience ever though was the first time my dad took me to the HMV on Oxford Street, which is still a huge store, but as a child it just seemed like a magical wonderland. There were strange imports and artists you had never heard of and just rows and rows and rows of albums waiting to be explored and discovered. Who knew what you would find: a rare record from one of your favourite artists or an EP you never knew existed (it was harder to know an artist's full discography back then without the internet). I still love to browse in that Oxford Street store and I miss so much its rivals: the massive Virgin Megastore with its three floors of goodies up the road and Tower Records, at Piccadilly Circus, with all its obscure imports and incredible range of magazines from all round the world. Around Oxford Street there were even fantastic second hand record shops on the backstreets, one in particular I remember had beautiful vintage posters it imported from America, another had new vinyl releases, when vinyl had become very uncool, that you couldn't find anywhere else.

When I got older Camden was my record hunting playground with all its independent record shops and market stalls, where you could hop from one to another finding 7" vinyl treats and cheap CDs of bands your average run-of-the-mill HMV or Our Price wouldn't stock. Camden was also famous for Rhythm Records, a cool and always well-stocked record shop on the high street just before Camden Lock, famous for having some of the rudest staff in London (I always thought it was just me until NME reported this in one issue) but it was such a great shop it was worth putting up with its snotty staff. I first bought Neil Young's Tonight's The Night (a vinyl reissue) there in its famous dark, dank basement and I'll never forget picking it up and looking at that striking black and white photo of a bearded, long-haired Neil in his striped jacket and shades, for the first time. Now, of course, it's difficult to find even one record shop in Camden, I'm sad to say.

I have so many fond memories of the record shops I loved growing up but most are gone now. There are a few independents holding on here and there, and of course, for now, there is still HMV. There is a whole new world out there and it is a different kind of wonderful to be able to open Spotify or Soundcloud and hear old and new music for free. So much music which was hidden or a mystery to me is now so easy to experience and obscure artists I probably would have never have heard of are now so much easier to discover. So it's not a bad thing that times are changing but I hope the romance of the record shop isn't lost forever. Hopefully HMV will hang on for us old romantics just a little longer.