One of the rites of passage of college used to be the record store experience. Thin plastic covers bounce delicately off your hands as you go past the white cardboard marker that reads, “Morrison.” The lighting is dimmed. The music is soft yet audible from the DVD racks in the back all the way to the man sitting up front with headphones on. Students from Guilford stand huddled at the front beside the flyers for local bands and a man sorting through CDs. They probably will not eat today, but the growl of their stomachs should be sufficiently muffled by the CD they came to buy with money designated for anything but personal expenses.With local record shops dropping left and right in recent years, that common experience is now gone for many of Guilford’s current students. The most prominent closing has probably been that of BB’s Compact Discs, a shop that was located across the street from Guilford in Quaker Village.

BB’s closed in 2008 after 19 years in business. The last record shop in town that sold new releases, BB’s closing was a rude awakening for those who thought this day would never come. Local record stores have literally gone extinct in Greensboro.

The reasons why are easy to see. In 1989 when BB’s opened, no one downloaded music off the Internet. Apple had just released the Macintosh Portable, which PC World named as one of the 25 worst Tech Products of all time. Now we all carry iPods and illegally downloading music is the new jaywalking. CD stores have become unimportant to the average person, especially to the average college student. Music lovers and truly loyal customers may have still wandered the aisles of BB’s on its last days, but for years those huddled college students had slowly stopped risking their lunches. The statistics reflect this harsh reality.

The Internet accounted for 36 percent of music bought in 2009. That does not include illegal and questionable downloads, according to NPD Group, Inc. Local record shops all across the country are losing to Internet competitors with better prices, more availability, and a wider selection. Local record shops simply cannot keep up.

The last remnant of an almost record shop is Edward McKay on Battleground Avenue. Despite not having any new releases, this is as close as one can get to the feel of a record store. The store’s actual claim to fame is that they, “Buy, sell, and trade used books,” according to their website.

A manager at Edward McKay noted that even he knew online music had “more availability for all types of music.”
But downloading music does have its limitations.
“People who are really into music come in once a week,” said the manager. “They like having artwork.We still let them listen to the music (at the counter).”

So the last record shop in town is a bookstore, one that does not even sell new material. The rite of passage is now a new road, one littered in iPods and Zunes. We may have lost all the record shops, but the college record store experience will never truly disappear. The shops will persist at the local coffee houses when someone begs a friend to share their headphones, a Y being spelled between their two ears; at the pizza parlor when a high-five over the love for an obscure band almost causes the food to crash to the floor; any local spot where two people can have a heated debate over pre- and post-electric Dylan. These will be our record shops, portable and all over Greensboro. You just have to find them.