The local indie record store used to be a sacred place for music lovers like you and me, people for whom music is so much more than a tool to fill the silence. Long before Ebay, you could find limited-edition pressings, rarities, posters and hard-to-find merchandise in the darker corners of your local record shop. There always seemed to be at least one in every college town, and finding them was almost as much fun as finally tracking down that rare Wipers vinyl or (sickeningly overpriced) Dylan bootleg from ‘69 that you’d been looking for since before you could tie your own shoes. They were the go-to spot for hipsters and fanboys to mingle and expose one another to underground gems, the guy behind the counter making no effort to conceal his elitist, condescending smirk while ringing up your selections. It was all a part of the experience.

The internet has unceremoniously rendered these gems entirely obsolete, bringing every musical Holy Grail a fan could dream of to their fingertips with a few clicks and keystrokes. Forever gone are the midnight release party rituals, the mystery and exhilaration of discovering a new album in person.