T.J. from Revolver Records from MusicGeek.org on Vimeo.

T.J. Jordan has a bold goal: to run the last record store in existence. When T.J. Jordan opened Revolver Records on Sept. 1, 2007, most people would have written it off as a pipe dream destined for failure. Two years later, Jordan and his staff are thriving at the Phoenix-based record store.

The store’s success, Jordan said, is down to one thing: It’s appealing to music lovers in search of something new.

“The people who come into record stores are coming in because they want something unique,” he said. “They’re not coming into to buy the latest Lil Wayne record. The only way record stores are going to stay in business is by appealing to the people who actually want to buy records.”

That appeal, Jordan said, is vital to the longevity of every record store; the traditional business model of the record store won’t keep them around, but providing excitement to music lovers will.

“If you go throughout the country, you’re going to see that the ones that are successful are the ones that have found a way to appeal to niche buyers and keep their store exciting,” he said. “I loved those record stores back in the ’90s, but I want to be the guy that owns the last record store. That’s my goal. I want to keep this in business as long as possible. What we try to do here is find ways we can stay in business, have a cushy job, and not have to work real jobs.”

Record stores are an invaluable asset in musical development, Jordan said. While the exit of many from the scene can be blamed on the faulty business model, much is lost when record stores shut their doors for good.

“If you listen to interviews with Paul McCartney or Brian Wilson, they always talk about the record stores they went into and discovered music,” he said. “Record stores are really important in musical development, and I hope it continues. I don’t like seeing record stores going out of business.”

Where Phoenix record stores like long-time city favorites Circles Records & Tapes — mere blocks away from Revolver — is closing its doors after 38 years of business, Revolver Records is busy carving out a niche for themselves. It’s not just Circles, but a business model that’s disappearing.

“The main reason is because they operate on a business model that worked for 1990, but it doesn’t work for 2010,” he said. “I don’t see that business model working now that you can download individual songs on iTunes. The ones that are dying are the ones that had a corporate mentality, and the ones that are thriving are appealing to music buyers again.”

Revolver’s niche, the same one to which other independent record stores across the country are looking, is why two-thirds of Jordan’s sales come from purchases of vinyl records.

As stores that sold vinyl in their heyday but have since moved exclusively to the CD sputter and collapse, Revolver Records represents a new breed of store: one that embraces the “long dead” format — and embraces their customer base along the way. Despite their love for vinyl, Jordan doesn’t think his customer base is simply antiquated.

“I think it would be foolish to say that most of our customers don’t have an iPod; I think they do,” he said. “I think the reason why people buy records is because it’s so unique, and it’s valuable.”

While the CD may have been easy to listen to, and the MP3 even easier to digest, there’s still an appeal to listening to vinyl, Jordan said.

“There’s a bit of effort involved in records,” Jordan said. “It’s tough to experience a record in tracks, you really experience it as a whole. For me, it’s a whole different experience, and I think that our customers come in for that.”

See, I can look classy every now and again.

When I search for records, it’s not an easy process. I often find myself inundated with those pesky round things — be they CDs or vinyl — as I flip through album after album. It’s not always particularly easy to find exactly what you want, supposing, of course, there is something in particular you’re interested in finding. It’s often the case that I’ll search shelves with no specific end, only the means: Exploration and search.

I’m under the impression that this is an essential part of my “musical journey” — a nebulous term I’ll adapt for use under a number of different circumstances with varying success. Half the fun of getting a record is looking for it, flipping through racks and racks of music, and finding that one specific item you’re willing to drop your cash on — or that stack of records you really, really don’t need right now.

If I were to walk into a store, find the album I wanted immediately, then leave, I feel I’d be missing a vital part of the experience. Of course, there are some real benefits to this — if somebody asks if you’ve heard of a record, and you remember seeing it at the store, you can just offer a glib, “Oh, I’ve heard of it, but I haven’t given it much time to digest,” be on your way, and leave them none the wiser. Sure, you haven’t heard the record, but you’ve seen a copy of it somewhere, and that should count for something, right? Not to say I’ve ever done this… but give it a try.

Of course, you don’t have to just flat-out lie. Is your friend asking about some new album you may or may not have heard, and you want to get them off your case? Tell them they have a copy on vinyl at the local record store. If it’s the right person, they’ll rush down, pick up a copy, and give it a listen, and they’ll probably invite you over to listen to it, too. You’ve helped your friend, yourself, and your local store, all in one fell swoop.

Aside from these fantasy scenarios, though, the record store serves a number of useful purposes. If you’ve caught a couple tracks from some band whose name is on the tip of your tongue — you’d recognize it if you saw it — and you know you want to hear more, what more fortuitous a scenario can come about than stumbling across it in your weekly vinyl hunt? You may find some real gems in there.

Downloading singles — or even albums, legally or not, doesn’t provide this experience. Not by a long shot. You can’t much shuffle through album after album, find something you recognize tangentially, and give it a spin at a listening station without some real effort — though, of course, if you know what you’re searching for, it’s not hard to find it.

I don’t mean to deny that there are some very sincere opportunities for one to find something new, exciting, and innovative online: Much to the contrary, the internet has proven a great tool for that very thing. It can’t be mistaken as the only tool, though; there’s something powerful about flipping through album after album, finding that vaguely recognizable gem, giving it a spin, and realizing you’ve either found a new love or made a huge mistake.

The record hunt, as one might call it, might be a bit outmoded in terms of efficiency, and it might be tiring. Still, it’s intensely satisfying. Can one find good music without record stores? Undoubtedly. I do it regularly, and I’m no finding-new-music whiz (perhaps I’d like to be, but it’s just not the case.) That should say something.

See, I can look classy every now and again.

Revolver Records, only a couple blocks away from Circles — a short walk from the Arizona State University Downtown Campus, where the Walter Cronkite School of Journalism is located — was a different story. From my first step into the door, the atmosphere was friendly and inviting, if a little intimidating. The selection on show was impressive, considering the size of the store. After a few tense minutes of trying to discern the organizational pattern of the store — now, that was something left to be desired — I found my first record of the day: King Crimson’s 1982 classic Beat, an album I’d previously purchased, I believe, while I was still in high school. I’ve never been much opposed to owning albums in multiple formats, save a digital format.

Some more searching revealed a few post-rock and shoegaze favorites against the right-most wall in the section labeled “New Vinyl” — an ambiguous term at best, but I did my searching, insufficient labeling be damned. Pavement’s Terror Twilight immediately popped out at me, as it’s an album I’ve been listening to with real fervor in the last two weeks. Slint’s Spiderland, My Bloody Valentine’s Loveless — my choices were hardly limited in the ways I usually expect. I rounded off the day of purchasing with something a bit more modern: The Pains of Being Pure at Heart’s 2009 self-titled album.

Seeing Circles Records & Tapes on the verge of falling off the edge of relevance — and mere blocks from the seemingly successful Revolver Records; it ought to serve as a wake-up call, one much the like I’ll be receiving (well, my phone will be waking me up with its alarm clock function, but I’m in a hotel — that’s the point!) in only a few short hours. Record stores are facing an unenviable struggle; they’re being pulled in many directions by uneven forces.