Digital music is the future. Heck, who am I kidding? It's the friggin' present. But ironically enough, online is probably the one place where most people found out that Saturday, April 18 is Record Store Day.

At 28, I'm not going to pretend I was someone who remembers the days when independently-owned record stores was THE place to go to get your music. Most of the places I went to pick up a cassette (remember those?) or a CD was the chain store in my local mall. However, I have managed to come into contact with a few in my latter years that I've always had good experiences at that I'd like to reflect upon, since in a few years, these standing relics may not even exist.

When I went to college at Ohio University in Athens, Ohio, downtown was just a short walk away from campus. Unlike all of my friends who had zero problem hopping on Napster and downloading boatloads of music for free, I liked to own my music. To have the booklet with the lyrics and the artwork and to know that my dollars have helped to keep an artist or band I respect doing what they do. In Athens, the store to go to was a place called Schoolkids a.k.a. my new weekly hangout. The place was completely unique to me, and it had nothing to with the fact that there was a costume shop upstairs that was heavily populated for the town's Halloween bash. It was a place I discovered music that no amount of Napster-ing would have brought me in contact with.

There's been more than one occasion that I heard a song on Schoolkids store speakers that sparked my curiousity enough to sacrifice beer money for some interesting music. Schookids' "playlist" introduced me to the jazz of saxophone legend Sonny Rollins and experimental British indie rockers Doves, which I still consider one of my great personal music discoveries. I also remember pillaging their used CD case to discover there were plenty of people willing to part with some Miles Davis that I couldn't imagine parting with today.

When I moved to Lexington, Ky., I discovered that they had a record store called CD Central that became a place I frequented often. You couldn't beat the used CD bin, where I remember picking up some early My Morning Jacket. While it was enjoyable, it was also a bit intimidating. You went and looked at the rack with staff picks and it was stuff you had never even heard of. You were almost afraid to ask for help fearing you would get schooled by someone like Jack Black's character in "High Fidelity." Luckily, the staff took the time to a short synopsis on an album's or band's music before you decided to put on the headphones and dive in. p>

On a recent trip back to Lexington, I had some time to kill and went back to CD Central. It's funny because I don't really have a reason to visit record stores anymore. Given the nature of my job and the bands I talk to, I get sent albums digitally and physically and for free on a regular basis for upcoming articles and reviews. So why do I go back? The vibe. A place where vinyl has a home and your greeted by the owner AND his dog. That sense that even though I didn't feel the need to buy anything that I could be turned on to some mind-blowing album or artist that I wouldn't have discovered otherwise. That's not going to happen going to pick up a CD at Target. And that's why, at least for now, the independent record store is here to stay.