The demise of HMV, the last high street music giant

The news that HMV is rolling downhill at speed toward administration could not have come at a worse time for a workforce consisting of both casual and full time staff whose snowy January will be looking even bleaker: staring down unemployment and a scarcity of customer facing retail roles in ailing town centres across the country.

There is an uncomfortable symmetry between the empty pockets of four thousand staff at HMV and the barren festive sales figures for the High Street chain whose shelves remain overflowing with hard copy media. The consumer, as always, took a huge hit over Christmas; so how did the 92-year-old High Street institution fail to carve out a revitalising portion of the bloated retail pudding?

We’re not suggesting a wholesale disinterest in music, film or gaming is to blame because that simply isn’t the case; there is demand for all forms of entertainment as the £4bn spent by UK consumers in 2012 testifies. The finger could be pointed squarely at the digital download industry, which grew to account for 25% of overall sales; this global trend has put pressure on the sale of physical copies, something that HMV admittedly did not act quickly enough to address. You can blame digital, internet piracy, supermarkets and Amazon if you like, but it’s a chasm that worryingly opens far wider than that: HMV simply does not fit in with our idealistic view of how we want our culture served up in the 21st century.

Britain is Europe’s most digitally aware nation; we own more smartphones, spend more time online and stream more media than any of our closest neighbours. Put plainly, we’re sitting ducks for the masterfully intelligent advertising executives at the world’s biggest retailers; malleable putty in the hands of Urban Outfitters, Apple and Starbucks who tailor their e-marketing campaigns and aspirational products to suit our requirements. Glued to keyboard and screen for more than twelve hours per week; we’re helpless to resist perusing the virtual aisles where 79% of us who browse online shopping outlets find ourselves making a purchase. Herein lies the pivot of our argument; we do want culture, we’re just too susceptible to the lurid comforts of cyberspace to make our own balanced judgments.

We crave that immediate hit of music; “buzz blogs” are becoming increasingly prevalent across the web where a snippet of an artist’s repertoire is judged reductively with a simple “yes”, or “no”. The term “tastemaker” is more widely applied than ever before; the word itself connoting the bending of our will to fall in line with the opinions of others. Those who speak ill of the adopted system are weeded out by a cabal of bloggers and industry types over Twitter and hosed down in front of thousands with a flurry of passive aggressive retweets.

It could be argued that we’re happier absorbing these new forms of commentary and their subjective endorsements than we are forming our own opinions: it’s safer and cheaper to follow the majority than spend hours wandering around record shops and visiting toilet venues on a voyage of real music discovery. Why go out and buy the album when the “best bits” are streaming for free, ripe for harvesting at Spotify and YouTube or available to sample in short preview bursts at Amazon and iTunes before a cheap one-off purchase?

HMV did not come to terms with the demand for flexibility and sleekness; physical copy has become nostalgic, retro almost, but seen as an inconvenience for the society of mobility. Failing to keep up with the times while embracing a “boutique” feel, expertly balanced by Urban Outfitters and their “Renewal” vintage line, has left the company cutting an isolated figure.

Urban Outfitters spotted a shift in the attitude towards vintage clothing, namely the notion of the garment as a worthwhile utilitarian investment to be collected, pored over and desired. Their range of “vintage inspired” clothing is marketed with the premise of individuality; a glance at their microblog – which focuses strongly on the range – yields posts packed with enticing jargon: “one-of-a-kind”, “exclusively selected”, “be quick”, angled at driving sales and emphasising its uniqueness.

The reality is that Urban Outfitters buy materials in 100-pound bales before recycling and rehashing to create “new vintage”. Turning rags quite literally into riches.

Now we aren’t saying that HMV could have saved itself from implosion with a lifestyle blog and some slogan t-shirts; but you have to commend Urban Outfitters’ techniques in making the outdated seem cool and desirable. There is still a healthy demand for the tangible music experience and with the backlash following Amazon’s tax returns, there is a gap in the market for an honest, understanding and ultimately aesthetically pleasing music retailer. HMV might have stood a chance of survival if it had managed to apply the façade of an independent record store with less cavernous premises, more niche music, indie label markets, regular in-store performances, personable blogging and e-marketing practices.

CD’s, like the rags, will always remain the raw materials; it’s how you package and sell the whole experience that can make or break a company.

HMV stores look clumsy and crude with their black and neon colour schemes, grey carpets and Jonas Brothers paraphernalia; no faux “individuality” of UO stores with their high ceilings and organised tat, no in-store coffee tables to sit and be seen, no blogosphere endorsements or must-have tote bag. HMV’s struggle against the tide of adversity is over and much like the independent stores they partially supplanted; their failure to tap into the current consumer psyche – namely the relationship between format, feel and purchase platform – was their ultimate undoing.