Andrea Levy, The Plain Dealer

Saturday is National Record Store Day.

Twenty years ago, such a day would have been as necessary as National Grocery Day. Or National Drugstore Day.

People just went to record stores — to pick up the latest CD or LP from their favorite band. To see what was new in the bins on Tuesday. Or just to hang out.

Unlike grocery stores or drugstores, though, record stores were community hubs. Places where like-minded fans of classic rock (or hardcore punk, or free jazz, or techno, or early ’50s R&B, or ’80s hip-hop) could talk, swap favorites and ask the guy at the counter what he was spinning.

Record stores were much more than stores. as were bookstores and video stores.

These places were gathering spots that turned fans on to the newest, the latest, the greatest, the most obscure. They helped shaped generations of pop-culture consumers into fans.

Which makes the decline of these brick-and-mortar institutions more than just a consumer story. Technology has redefined what it means to be a fan — through megastores such as Amazon, download sites, easy access to imports and “in the cloud” sites like Spotify.

Anyone anywhere has access to almost anything at the click of a mouse. in many ways, it’s easier than ever to find a like-minded fan community, especially for those with niche interests.

But has something more than the corner store been lost in the process?

Cleveland graphic-arts firm owner and musician David James, an avid consumer of music and movies, says the answer isn’t black-and-white.

“Access to anything is good and bad,” says the former devotee of (now-closed) Cleveland record stores such as Chris’ Warped Records in Lakewood (where he worked) and Record Revolution and Wax Stacks in Parma.

“In the ’80s, when I was a teenager, I never had much money to spend, so I’d go to a store and look closely at 20 or 30 records before buying. I’d imagine what they’d sound like, ask people in the store how they’d describe it,” he says.

“There was an incredible amount of imagination in that process. It forced more consideration and creativity on the part of the consumer — and more appreciation of the music.”

Now, James is still an avid music consumer — but not necessarily a buyer.

“Spotify makes buying redundant. It’s like having the whole iTunes store in a click. You don’t even have to download files — you just move them around in the cloud,” he says.

And if you fear losing the human connection, you can share the titles you’re listening to by linking to Facebook and seeing what your friends are spinning online.

But it’s not just the ease of finding music online that impresses James. he also has found a new community. in his case, other fans of early ’80s minimalist electronica.

“Yeah, it’s pretty micro-niche,” he says with a laugh. “There’s definitely a different sense of community online [than in record stores], but it’s still a community. Things just change.”

Music fan Steven Peffer also gets the appeal of micro-niche music — but he’s trying out the concept in a different format: a real, physical store.

Earlier this month, Peffer did the almost unthinkable: he opened a record store in 2012. as in, RECORDS, big vinyl discs.

But as retro as this may seem, Peffer’s reasons behind his new Hausfrau Record Shop on West 65th Street are forward-looking.

“It may seem like a bad time to open something because everyone’s going online and record stores are not doing well, but I want to do something different,” he says. “I wanted to keep it tiny, as simple as possible, with very specialized interests.

“I want to have a small store that is carefully curated, not filled with tons and tons of stuff. We have just vinyl — new and used — underground and punk rock, reggae and dub, and jazz.”

Peffer chose to go with just vinyl because of what he sees as its newness — at least for generations raised on virtual shopping, where you never actually own anything beyond sound files on a MP3 player.

“People younger than me — I’m 34 — never actually went to record stores. It can be a cool new experience for them, just picking up and holding something; I’ve already seen it a lot in the store,” he says.

“You’ll see people flipping through stacks and stacks of stuff, and they end up taking a chance on something they wouldn’t have checked out before because of how it looks, or from a recommendation I give them. ‘If you liked this, you might like . . .’ People seem to like that human recommendation.”

You are what you download

 The honchos at movie-rental giant Netflix agree.

Last week, the company announced a new initiative to improve the recommendation system used by their 23 million streaming download customers.

“We want to know you as well as a friend,” says Joris Evers, Netflix director of corporate communications.

A friend who really knows what you like.

“Streaming is something very different than going to a traditional video store and walking down aisles for comedy or drama, browsing till something jumps out at you,” explains Evers.

Instead, Netflix tailors its recommendations by relying on data that users provide on their profiles, plus information about past rentals — including whether you stopped watching a streaming video and never resumed it and the speed at which you go through rentals — and ratings you give to movies. (The system is not as refined for Netflix’s mail-only customers, as less data is available.)

“Eighty percent of our employees are engineers, and a good portion of them are mathematicians working on improving our algorithm system so it can be more personal,” Evers says.

That’s a lot of work to re-create the human touch of a knowledgeable store clerk. but with video stores almost completely extinct, it’s a useful goal — for Netflix and for viewers.

“Netflix is not necessarily about the newest movies,” explains Evers. “It’s more about discovering things that would appeal to you . . similar to the bookstore you used to go to, and the clerk knows your name and he says, ‘You just read this, you’re gonna really like this title.’ ”

That human touch is exactly what Visible Voice bookstore owner Dave Ferrante is still selling at his cozy Tremont shop — an advantage he sees for any brick-and-mortar store.

“The greatest strength we offer anybody in a store is discovery,” he says.

“Online, you’ve got to know what you want, and if you only have an inkling, you have to rely on some program set up by Amazon. Instead, you can come into a store and stumble onto something.”

But even Ferrante admits that big-box and online stores have some advantages.

“They can be more nimble and move a lot faster,” he says. “And they can beat me on convenience and price, though they’re not all that deeply discounted. . . . That’s why we don’t try to compete.”

Instead, he’s also taking a more tightly focused approach to his store.

“We stay away from the Top 20 books and try to focus on six or seven genres and build really deep in that area.”

Those areas at Visible Voice include graphic novels, music, movies, poetry and modern fiction.

Ferrante also keeps customers coming in with weekly readings, small concerts and even wine tastings.

“We’re really trying to offer people a different type of experience — something you can’t find online.”

But there’s no arguing that sometimes you can find things online you won’t find in a local store.

Log on to Amazon and look past its Top 20 best sellers to the chatboards and reviews that follow most titles. if you know what you’re looking for — say, new Norwegian fiction — you’ll discover a hard-core international community of readers interested in the same, often obscure, topics. again, a different kind of community, but a community nonetheless.

Amazon and other online sellers also offer devoted fans another advantage: easy access to imported titles. in an era when top authors include Scandinavians Stieg Larsson and Jo Nesbo — and shows such as “Downton Abbey” from the U.K. and Denmark’s version of “The Killing” (“Forbrydelsen”) generate big buzz — that’s not such a small bonus.

Take best-selling Norwegian mystery author Nesbo, whose new book, “Phantom,” came out in Britain in March but won’t hit American shelves till October. for $44, fans easily can go online and purchase the hard-cover title from Amazon.co.uk and have it at their door in six to 10 days, instead of waiting more than half a year to see what’s new with Detective Harry Hole.

Dedicated “Downton Abbey” fans were also able to get a early look at the second season of the Edwardian soap by purchasing DVDs of episodes that aired months earlier in the U.K. from Amazon.

And these are just a few examples of thousands of book, CD and DVD titles American consumers can purchase from abroad. (Note: European DVDs are Region 2 and will play on many computers but not American DVD players. Kindle books cannot be purchased internationally.)

The once-lengthy process of having a book- or record-store employee track down an import has been accomplished without leaving the house. and you can even find equally ardent international fans to discuss your purchase once you’ve read or watched it.

The ease of access to rarities and imports is one reason Parma bass player and self-described “junk-culture aficionado” Tony Erba has increasingly turned online in pursuit of collectible records, movies and wrestling memorabilia. he used to frequent (mostly closed) stores such as Vidstar in Cleveland Heights, Record Revolution in Parma and B-Ware Books & Video in Lakewood.

“In the past, you had the thrill of the chase,” he explains. “You’d get the word from someone that they had a great find and make the drive to the store. . . . The thrill aspect of hunting through bins and getting an awesome record or movie for cheap can’t be replaced.”

Today, Erba still goes to conventions such as Cinema Wasteland, a B-flick and retro horror fest, flea markets and local shops when he has time. He’s looking forward to checking out the new Hausfrau Record Shop in the Gordon Square Arts District.

“But my days of obsessively going to the record store every week are over . . . simply for the fact that those stores no longer exist. and that’s a shame. but the thing is, people get busy and can’t travel or devote as much time to treasure hunts anymore. and if someone is interested in something off the beaten path, if it becomes out of reach, they’ll start to lose interest,” Erba says.

“In a way, it’s almost better now. Accessibility has become much easier. on the Internet, you can find everything at the click of a finger — even the comradeship of like-minded weirdos.”