I see it a little differently John.  I think people "like us" were the very 
first ones the B&M stores lost, because we are far less satisfied with the 
releases that comprise their inventory, and far more likely to want music by 
bands you can't find on the shelves.  I gradually migrated almost all my 
music buying online after (1) my frustration grew with walking into a record 
store to buy 4 titles and finding maybe one of them in stock; and (2) 
discovering that I could go home, order them all from one place, and oh 
yeah, it was cheaper to do so.

I think there is something hopelessly out of kilter with the music business. 
It is absolutely the only industry I can think of that is aligned around its 
lightest purchasers.  McDonalds targets heavy fast food customers, even 
Hollywood makes movies for people who go to a lot of movies.  Yet who is 
more likely to have a Kenny Chesney or Ashlee Simpson record-- your friend 
with 60 CDs total, or your friend with 5,000?  So people like us, the 
heaviest of the heavy music buyers, did what we had to do to get our needs 
satisfied, which is the way we are supposed to behave in a free market 
economy.  If that meant the demise of the retailer, we weren't the 
perpetuators; we were the beneficiaries.

----- Original Message ----- 
From: "John L. Micek" <jlmicek@comcast.net>
> It's odd that we've spent so much time talking about the "demise of the 
> retail music shop" without acknowledging our (collective) role in it.
> On any given day, you'll find people on here extolling the virtues of 
> Parasol, NotLame, Bullseye, and Paisley Pop (gratuitous plug), or even 
> iTunes. I think it's safe to say that online communities such as this one 
> have done as much to "harm" (to the extent that such a thing is possible) 
> bricks-and-mortar retailers as "the kids" are doing with single-song 
> downloads and file-sharing.
> And I say this in full acknowledgment of my own fondness for 
> brick-and-mortar record stores. My first and fondest memories of music 
> shopping were at the Strawberries Records & Tapes in Avon, Conn., and the 
> Caldor in Torrington, Conn., where I grew up. At that time (c.1983-84), 
> when I was first discovering music, they seemed like wondrous places. I 
> vividly remember being stunned that a record by The Jam was readily 
> available at a Caldor in provincial Connecticut. It seemed then like those 
> songs were being beamed in from another planet.
> In one store, it seemed, I could go from The Jam to Hank Williams and then 
> to Augustus Pablo. It was a wide-ranging experience, and it seemed then 
> like the breadth of taste was just endless.
> While I remain omnivorous when it comes to my consumption of music, my 
> tastes are a little more tailored, and the music I'm seeking appeals to a 
> much more segmented audience -- hence my reliance on online retailers like 
> NotLame, or SoulJazz or Parasol. If I do buy a retail CD, it's from the 
> local Borders as I'm shopping for books for myself (or my daughter) or a 
> DVD. That's not to mention quarterly trips to Record Connection in scenic 
> Ephrata, Pa., which remains indispensable to me, or efforts to seek out 
> record stores in towns I hit during the course of business travel.
>
> All of which is a long-winded way of saying that, as we bemoan the loss of 
> record retailers, we should probably acknowledge our own culpability.
>
> Just a thought.
> John Micek.
>