Record Store Day made me remember why I adore this film.

      April 12 marks Record Store Day, and during a discussion about Digital Trends' editorial strategy for the occasion, I revealed that I hadn’t visited a record store in many years—decades, in fact. Since I don’t collect vinyl records, I had little reason to go. My confession, however, turned into a challenge, and I decided to visit a local store just to snap some fun photos with the Apple iPhone 16E. Yet, I ended up leaving with much more than just pictures.

      Visiting Spin Sounds

      After checking the Record Store Day website, I found Spin Sounds, which was the nearest record store to me. I wasn’t certain what I would discover or what I wanted, so my only intention was to take some photos and see what unfolded. Since I don’t own a record player, purchasing a vinyl record seemed pointless. However, I do have a CD player and buy CDs, which provided my only possible "in."

      Spin Sounds had a distinctive ambiance. The store was bright, airy, clean, and well-organized. As expected, racks, tubs, and stacks of records filled the space. Various customers gathered around the counter, flipping through boxes of 7-inch and 12-inch vinyl records. Although their actions appeared random, I sensed they knew precisely what they were seeking and would instantly recognize it upon finding it. There was intensity and purpose in their casual, expert manner.

      Beyond the typical commerce was another layer—conversation. There were lively discussions about purchases and potential trades, but what truly amused me were the inquiries about incoming collections and their arrivals. I could nearly feel their excitement as they planned their next visits to see what new items had come in. When I was leaving, a man entered with the clear intention of finding records he had previously discussed with the owner. I was witnessing "the chase," a phenomenon I was all too familiar with from my own collecting experiences, and I found it delightful.

      Finding a CD

      Throughout my visit, I had been perusing the CDs, but I held little hope of finding something to add to my own collection. I typically buy CDs from Japan and Korea by artists from those regions, as they’re hard to find in the few local stores that sell physical media. The likelihood of finding even one option at Spin Sounds seemed slim.

      However, my interest piqued when I spoke with the owner, Lee Mayne, who shared that he actually sends more products to Japan and Korea than he receives. There is significant demand for records released in the U.K. there, and for Mayne, it can mean the difference between them never selling here or enduring shipping costs to sell to eager local dealers on the other side of the globe.

      Mayne revealed that this upcoming Record Store Day would be the store's first, and he was eager to see how it would be received. He was discreet about his expectations but admitted to ordering £7,000 (approximately $8,950) worth of exclusive Record Store Day products, expressing concern that he may have ordered too few. As we discussed Record Store Day, he mentioned that it was likely a good thing I had come to speak with him beforehand, as there would probably be record collectors queuing outside. I had been cautioned about this earlier and knew there would be no time for someone like me on April 12.

      Nostalgia comes in many forms

      While I scanned the hundreds of CDs, hoping to find something intriguing, one item caught my eye. It was the soundtrack to the John Cusack film High Fidelity. As I pulled it from the tightly packed CD rack, it felt particularly fitting, since the protagonist in the film owns a record store. I remembered seeing it in theaters, later reading the Nick Hornby book, and definitely owning the DVD, although it had been ages since I last watched it. I recalled enjoying it and resonating with its themes. I picked up the CD, purchased it, and left Spin Sounds with a clear purpose.

      A few days later, I rewatched High Fidelity. Released in 2000, it features not only vinyl records but also payphones, paper phone directories, and characters smoking inside the record store. Jack Black is superb as always, and John Cusack's Rob is anxious, uncertain, and endearingly aimless—a character I still relate to, much as I do with aspects of the character he portrayed in Grosse Point Blank.

      When I first viewed High Fidelity, I remember leaving the theater to discuss Rob's journey with friends. Watching it again, as a significantly older person, my reaction differed from my younger, admittedly more neurotic self, yet I still thoroughly enjoyed High Fidelity 25 years after its release. It made me laugh, and I found connections to different parts of the film this time around. It evoked nostalgia not for the music, the vinyl, or the payphones, but for the days when I experienced the film on the big screen.