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NEMETON // Entry 20260418 - Record Store Day

Today is Record Store Day in the U.S. Record stores around the country are selling a special inventory of new and limited vinyl records for the first time. Some stores even have events or live performances. I'm lucky enough to live just a few blocks from a fantastic local record store. Last night I checked their website to see if they had the albums I wanted, and this morning I walked there 15 minutes before their special early opening time. My goal was one of the two new Masayoshi Takanaka pressings. While I already owned 6 of his albums -- all original or vintage represses bought in Japan -- I didn't own either of these albums, and nowadays buying a used copy online would be just as expensive.

When I arrived, the queue was already 40 to 50 deep with dedicated music fans. I spoke with a couple about their target purchases, all different from mine. A few minutes later, the door opened and the small shop filled like a Tokyo subway car during rush hour. Some opted to wait outside rather than try to push their way through. By the time I made it to the T section, all the Takanaka records were gone. There had only been one or two of each, so I wasn't surprised. Still I searched the checkout line for confirmation that they'd been claimed, and I spotted one copy in the hands of a fan wearing a Casiopea "Mint Jams" t-shirt. When he got to the register, he remarked that he'd been waiting at the store since 10PM the night before. Accepting my defeat and being that the store was too crowded to browse normally, I made my way home.

Admittedly I was disappointed I didn't get one of the records I wanted. Maybe that's obvious given that I'm writing about it now. But from the moment I read about these special edition albums, I resented my desire to own them. So why did it still hurt when I couldn't spend $50 to $75 on a plastic disc of music? Why couldn't I just be happy for this other fan who was clearly far more dedicated than I am?

Record Store Day (RSD) started in 2007, with the main purpose of bringing more interest to independent record stores around the country. At that time, digital music completely dominated. CD sales were on a steep decline, and vinyl records were only for hardcore music fans. The event was a success and vinyl record sales began climbing the following year. Now Record Store Day happens twice a year, with shops opening early in the morning to embrace a long day of customers. Both major and independent music labels release music on RSD, though you'll find far more copies of a Taylor Swift release than Takanaka's.

Despite all the (economic) positives of an event like Record Store Day, manufactured scarcity remains one of its key features. Most RSD releases are limited runs of 2,500 to 5,000 copies and can only be bought in-person. Unique inserts and color variants distinguish these copies from previous releases, further driving up their rarity. Manufacturing costs vary greatly, but a run of 500 copies, even with special vinyl mixtures and additional printing, is unlikely to cost more than $20 each to produce. So when a major label only makes 2,500 copies of an album and charges $50 each on RSD, it's obvious they're using scarcity to justify higher costs. This profit reaping is then compounded by the worst of record buyers: resellers. Discogs users are already listing new sealed copies of RSD albums at twice the price.

None of this is necessary. If all you want to do is hear the songs, you can usually find it somewhere else; the majority of RSD releases aren't exclusive music, just exclusive packaging. Additionally, the label could simply produce more copies. The record pressing platters have already been made. The demand exists. In all likelihood they will make more, but it'll be another unique batch for the next Record Store Day, and the cycle repeats. Thus the "unique" releases offered by resellers maintain or appreciate in value.

Let's use the new RSD Takanaka album "All of Me" as an example.

This treatment of records as mere commodities is objectionable, especially in the case of an artist like Masayoshi Takanaka. Yes, the majority of popular musicians exist solely for music labels to make money, but after 50 years of playing music for a small dedicated audience, I refuse to believe Takanaka deserves to be commodified the same way. Records are meant to be played and enjoyed; rarity and unique packaging are strictly bonuses. Treating them as collectible items to be bought and sold for extra profit is just more music industry nonsense, and for individuals beyond music labels to participate in the resale market in this way -- solely to make money and not to serve fans -- is especially revolting.

Social media is already rife with American fans boasting about their purchase. For some fans, these RSD releases will be the only Takanaka records they ever own. Others are adding to a large collection. It may even be their 2nd of 3rd copy of the same album.

My charge to these fans, and fans of music in general is simple: don't let the American standards of being a loyal fan corrupt the personal value you hold in music, whether it's Takanaka or any other artist. If you're like me, you discovered Takanaka through some free online platform, and heard most of his music there long before buying physical copies. As a new fan, was your first goal to own all of his records in the highest rarity? Did you search for a live concert in Japan or the US and immediately commit the high attendance cost? Again, if you're like me, you didn't have money for either of those things, yet those first few weeks discovering his music will always be valuable.

Personally, I've seen Takanaka in concert twice in Japan while I lived there. I paid around $100 per ticket, General Admission, and was among an incredibly dedicated and enthusiastic crowd. Meanwhile, his recent concerts in America sold out immediately, with most tickets going to resale agents. My position may seem ignorant, but if you have to pay two to four times the original price, I strongly discourage attending those shows. Ticketmaster and Live Nation will be smitten soon for their atrocities inshallah. We cannot fix the broken systems by continuing to support it.

Similarly, most of the records I own from him were found in secondhand stores after several rewarding minutes of digging through crates labeled "Japanese Popular Music", "Fusion", "(Ta)", or simply "T". The remainder were gifted to me by a Japanese friend. It was a love of Takanaka that started our friendship, not the number of records I owned, nor any other possessions, but simply a shared appreciation of his composition and influence on Japanese popular music.

So, on this and all future trips to the record store, I wish you the best in finding what you're looking for. Don't accept the value made up by the music industry as your own. And if you miss out on an exclusive release, don't be too downtrodden: the music is still out there, maybe even on a mint used copy that'll take a few rewarding extra minutes to dig for.

Official first entry on the site! Challenged myself to finish this before the day ended (finished writing before midnight but still editing 30 minutes later). More articles coming soon.