Is Record Store Day stronger than ever? Or is it irrelevant? Heading into the 8th annual celebration of "the unique culture" of independently-owned record stores this April 18th, the same evidence can be used for each side of the argument. For the former, there’s the official Record Store Day release list, which includes more than 430 brand new products, the vast majority pressed onto vinyl (there’s a handful of CDs), to be spread across more than 1,400 stores participating in the U.S. alone. That’s a lot of exclusive stuff in a lot of stores, and it’s all brought to you by Dave Grohl, alt-rock ambassador for music’s brick-and-mortar temples, whether legendary recording studios or community-oriented record stores. RSD was always high-profile—Metallica played the inaugural event at Rasputin’s in San Francisco—but it’s rapidly grown into a high-volume event, as well. The release of the day’s list of exclusive releases is a highly anticipated annual ritual, covered on various websites like Coachella and Bonnaroo lineup announcements.

Yet for the stores and labels that won’t be participating in this year’s event, the same data proves their case too: Record Store Day has gotten way too big, and the smaller players—the people who the holiday is supposed to serve—are getting left out. That’s the contention from Pete Gulyas, the owner of Cleveland store Blue Arrow, who was strung along by a distributor for weeks last year before being left without most of his order for the big day, leaving a line of customers disappointed. Gulyas suspects that, as in the past, the distributor gave preference to one of the "big independents" (like Amoeba Records), leaving the bulk of his 125 item-order out to dry. Gulyas’ open letter was diplomatic compared to the UK-based labels Sonic Cathedral and Howling Owl, who recently issued a press release bluntly announcing that "Record Store Day is Dying". Amongst their rationales: the holiday has become "just another event in the annual music industry circus," too focused on product over participants, and indie labels have a hard time getting their exclusives pressed in time for the big day in favor of corporate rock. "U2 have already shat their album into our iTunes," they argue, "why should they constipate the world’s pressing plants with it too?"

-=-=-=-As Record Store Day steadily expands each year, this paradox becomes more important to address: Does Record Store Day, which cites independence as a core mission, focus too much on celebrities and corporations at the expense of the little guys? Wherever one falls on the spectrum of Record Store Day’s relevance, both sides of the argument underscore the event’s core ironies. Record Store Day is founded on the overproduction of exclusives, and the creation of a massively hyped holiday to lift the fortunes of humble independent retailers, most of whom would love steady, regular business with the event's annual one-day sales spike.

Here’s the rub, though: the righteous foundation and crass commercialism of Record Store Day don’t cancel each other out. Instead, because of how promotion and commerce work, they mutually reinforce each other. That’s how it has to happen for one of the most successful music brands of the record business’ chaotic post-mp3 moment. I know, I said "brand." But wait! Despite the "Brands Saying Bae" micromoment making brand interactions with consumers a punchline, the concept of branding permeates the selling and buying of music down to its most elemental forms. Though many label owners might be loath to admit it, creating a recognizable brand is likely at the top of their priority list. Record label logos, roster development, website design, and album art are all part of branding—a way to link a bunch of recognizable symbols, artists, concepts, and vibes into a framework that makes consumers feel a sense of identification and develop loyalty.