photo copyright of NY Times

There are two things I have a rough time getting enough of. Record stores and road trips.

And with traditional record shops closing up all over the place, I figure I got work to do. (we won't even get into gas prices for the road trip part.)

This 2006 article from the NY times probably illustrates the music store landscape best.

I, of course, do not envision a day when music will be all download, or a day when record stores will cease to exist. But the fundamental need for them is one that is quickly shrinking, and has only gotten gloomier since the above mentioned article was written.

I understand this better than most, because I work for a newspaper, a business with a future not all that different from music business.

Nevertheless, my personal mantra comes from a little movie called Almost Famous.

"If you ever get lonely, just go to the record store and visit your friends."

To me, there is nothing like hanging out at a record shop. Even if I don't plan on buying something, it is the most beautiful place to get lost and sink into. It is full of my friends. The dusty smell of used vinyl, the shop clerk painted in the sweetest tattoo art you've ever seen, obscure acid jazz bopping over the soundsystem, or a random Dylan bootleg. People on the floor digging through the bargain boxes looking for a buried gem, discussions on the artistic merits of a certain artist sail through the aisles. You hear the constant click of plastic cases slinking against one another as a browser browses. It all dovetails like nothing else could. It's my type of place with my type of people--random folks hunting for something, even if they don't know what they are hunting for.

It's a totally gypsy way of thinking about it, but it's true. A music shop is the one place you are safe from anything in the outside world. Back in the 70's, when music was more of a spinal chord in culture, these sort of places were bedrocks for entire communities. Going to the store was like going to the show.

Now where do kids go? The mall? To each others house to play video games? Nowhere? Maybe I'm a bit overly nostalgic for that old time vein of what a record store once meant, but I think there is something eternally special--and valuable--about these places, and refuse to watch them disappear from the face of our culture.

And whenever I read about another shop closing, I honestly feel like someone just demolished a house I used to live in to put up a new Walmart.

Lots of great stores have been sucked into the black hole of the 21st century digital age in the past few years and closed doors, but the map remains dotted with plenty of these musical havens, these safe houses for musical wackos like me.

I plan to visit each and every one of these in the coming months, to dig on their digs. I'll document my visit to each and every one right here on the blog, with photos, some history and quirks, reviews, and lists of what I bought. (be wary, nothing is off limits when I purchase used records. I've shelled out for everything from Muddy Waters to silly compilations to David Hasslehoff.)

Why? Well, it's an excuse to jump in on the 2 things I love. AND these are places that, quite ironically, need to be heard to keep making noise. I'd be happy to be your hearing aid.

I will go for A SPIN and visit one record store per week, starting this weekend.

And what better place to start than the new one that just popped up right down the road in Phoenixville--The Creep Industries Store.

Stay tuned for "For The Record" features every week, folks.