I need to say something that’s going to annoy some people: Record Store Day, as it currently operates, has become the opposite of what it was supposed to be. I’ve participated every year since 2008. Spank Records is an official RSD store. We do the queues, the in-store performances, the social media countdowns. And every year, I like it a little less.

This isn’t me being a contrarian for the sake of it. I genuinely loved what RSD was in the early years. But the event has drifted so far from its original purpose that I think it’s worth being honest about what it’s become.

The Original Idea Was Good

The concept made sense. Pick a day. Release exclusive vinyl pressings. Drive foot traffic to independent record stores. Give people a reason to show up, browse, discover something new, and remember why physical shops matter. For the first few years, it worked exactly like that.

The releases were interesting — small pressings of genuinely obscure material, live recordings, splits, coloured vinyl of beloved albums. They were made for fans, not investors. The quantities were modest. The prices were fair. And the people queueing up at 7am were the kind of customers who’d stick around, dig through the racks, and buy other stuff too.

That version of Record Store Day was great. It celebrated the culture of record shopping.

What It’s Become

Fast forward to 2026 and look at the RSD release list. Three hundred titles. Minimum. A huge proportion of them are major label catalogue reissues pressed on coloured vinyl with a sticker that says “Limited Edition.” Taylor Swift picture discs. Ed Sheeran live albums. Disney soundtracks on glow-in-the-dark vinyl.

These aren’t releases aimed at people who regularly shop at indie stores. They’re collectibles designed to generate hype, attract flippers, and move units. The speculators queue up before dawn, buy the high-demand titles, and list them on eBay before lunch. Many of them never step foot in an indie store the rest of the year.

Meanwhile, the genuinely interesting releases — the underground reissues, the local artist pressings, the weird compilation albums — get lost in the noise. We order them, they arrive, and they sit in the racks while everyone asks about the major label exclusives we couldn’t get enough copies of.

The Economics Are Backwards

Here’s what most people don’t realise about RSD from a shop owner’s perspective. The margins on RSD exclusives are often worse than regular stock. We’re required to pay upfront, we can’t return unsold copies, and the distributor decides our allocation based on the shop’s overall purchasing history. If I want the three titles my customers actually want, I have to also order a bunch of stuff I know won’t sell.

The foot traffic argument is real — RSD brings people through the door. But a significant chunk of those people buy their one or two RSD titles and leave. They don’t browse. They don’t discover. They treat it like a product drop, not a record store experience. And the regular customers who’d normally come in on a Saturday often stay away because they don’t want to deal with the crowds.

The net financial impact for Spank Records? It’s roughly break-even. A huge amount of work, stress, and staff overtime for basically the same revenue as a normal busy Saturday, once you account for the unsold RSD stock I’m still sitting on months later.

The Pressing Plant Problem

RSD exclusive releases consume pressing plant capacity. That’s not debatable — it’s basic manufacturing economics. When major labels commission runs of 10,000 coloured vinyl pressings for RSD, that’s time and capacity that could be used for independent artist releases. Small labels have been complaining about this for years, and the situation hasn’t meaningfully improved.

Bandcamp reported on this bottleneck extensively through 2024 and 2025. Indie artists waiting six months or longer for their vinyl to get pressed while plants prioritise RSD orders from major labels. That’s the opposite of supporting independent music.

What I’d Rather See

I’m not saying cancel Record Store Day. I’m saying reform it. Here’s what I’d change tomorrow:

Drop the major label exclusives. If Universal and Sony want to press limited vinyl, they can do it on their own timeline. RSD should be reserved for independent labels, local artists, and genuinely rare archival releases.

Cap the number of titles. Three hundred releases dilutes the event into meaninglessness. Make it fifty. Make each one count.

Ban online resale for 90 days. Other collectible markets do this. You buy it to own it, not to flip it. Enforce it through serial numbering and retailer agreements.

Support in-store events over product drops. Free shows, DJ sets, listening sessions, panel discussions. Make RSD about the experience of being in a record store, not about acquiring scarce product.

Will Anything Change?

Probably not soon. RSD generates too much revenue for the major labels to voluntarily step back, and the organisation that runs it has limited incentive to shrink the event. But I think more shop owners feel the way I do than are willing to say it publicly. We participate because opting out feels worse than participating. That’s not enthusiasm. That’s resignation.

I’ll be behind the counter on RSD this April. I’ll smile, sell records, and try to steer people toward the genuinely great releases on the list. But I won’t pretend it’s something it isn’t anymore.

Record Store Day should celebrate record stores. Somewhere along the way, it forgot that.