I will now sell five copies of "The Three EPs" by The Beta Band

So it was Record Store Day on Saturday (18 April) and it breaks my heart and shames my soul, just a little, to admit that I didn't show up at any independent retailer to show my support. Really, I am saddened by my own fail here.
In my defence (which I will do a half-assed job of presenting as I feel so guilty):

1. I had to look up where my nearest record store is now. It used to be Reveal Records in Derby but this is now a chain coffee shop (sob). Apparently The Heavy Sounds in Nottingham is nearest now.
2. I spent all my money in the wonderful array of record stores in my beloved Manchester earlier in the week (thanks to Vinyl Exchange, Piccadilly Records and Fopp for relieving me of my cash).

What did I do? Well, I seriously considered trying to find my way to Nottingham to introduce my two year old to the record store experience; I tweeted and FB status-ed my support for the day; and I read, and nodded sagely as I read, the article in the NME. None of which will do anything to help this industry, this part of our culture survive.
Why do I want it to survive? The same reason I want newspapers to survive in some format. Because culturally if not economically they are important and because I have both in my veins.
Independent record stores still scare me a little bit. They still hold that mystery, that feeling they hold some secret that I'm not sure I'm supposed to be prive to. I still get that momentary feeling as I go to enter that a magical force will repel me for not being worthy to set foot in the place.
But either I am worthy, or as other people keep telling me, magic like that doesn't exist. Once inside the feeling turns to a heady mixture of awe and gleeful excitement. I have on occasion been unable to restrain my grin.
There is a feeling of timelessness about a record store. The order of the racks is balanced with the chaos of the mostly subjective categorisation and the sheer volume. There is knowledge in these hallowed places, and wisdom, and most of all passion. The top not of slightly musty stock is touched by a base note of obsession. Employee and customer...we're in it together...a perpetual tide of master / apprentice as we show off our level of knowledge and then bow down as we're introduced to something new.
And then there is The Potential. There is no time better spent than time spent gently flicking through a rack of records. The poosh poosh of the paper sleeves falling together or the click click of plastic cases...as joyful a sound as those recorded within the package. Somewhere in those racks might be a song once heard but never forgotten, a rare version of a classic or simply something that looks interesting and turns out to be special. The Potential is there. Not so in the unit-shifting controlled chain store.

Maybe I am a relic of an age which is passing. Maybe I am alone in still prefering to buy a tangible copy of something and go through the ritual of pilgrimage to the store, the search, the reward, the carefully metered consuming of not just the music but the packaging too.

I didn't make it to an independent store on Record Store Day 2009 but I will make up for it by visiting and spending cash in as many as I can throughout the rest of the year. As soon as my toddler is manageable in public spaces I will introduce him to this magical retail experience...and I really hope that culturally we stand still here, and that he will be able to pass on the experience one day too.

Tell me I'm not the only one to still feel this way?