HERO TO ZERO: THE INEVITABILITY OF DISRUPTION - & THE STORES WHERE MUSIC ONCE LIVED
- These Guys I Know

- Oct 10, 2025
- 4 min read
Updated: Apr 29

Reflecting on that one time, we ran marketing and brand for New Zealand’s largest music retail chain, Sounds. That was back in the day - when music stores were still 'a thing'.
When disruption hit, it moved quickly.
One minute, we were making and breaking the international careers of rockstars. We were launching the careers of homegrown superstars and deciding what albums were purchased in what quantities. We showcased music in-store, held rock star signing events and enjoyed side-stage seats at sold-out concerts. Nek minute, we were -
irrelevant.
Doh.
The Changing Landscape of Music Retail
In those days, it was hard to imagine a future without music stores.
There were once queues around the block before a store opened, midnight openings for special releases. Music fans lining up to get in or meet their favourite artists when they visited NZ. Now, it’s tricky to explain to kids that we managed marketing for stores where you bought music. (Huh?) One day it will also be weird to say that we watched television at a pre-programmed time. In a career post-music industry, we were in charge of marketing that 'time slot' - now television, content is no longer bound by time. Crazy.
Such is the brutal reality of disruption.
Having a front-row seat to an industry's demise provided invaluable lessons. It left an “it WILL happen” mindset regarding change, rather than “it won’t.” We gained a better understanding of innovation, its sources, and the inevitability of disruption. Importantly, it wasn’t a demise (though it felt like that at the time) but a reshaping.
Music stores may not be prevalent anymore, but music itself is. Television may not be a thing soon, but content will always exist. Distribution changes - not "the thing". Money is made differently, but those passionate about it remain.
Some of those who worked in the music industry back then still work there, albeit in different roles. The artists, the creators - they still make music.
We loved listening to the legendary stories of people being locked in stores by passionate music staff insisting they listen to albums in their entirety, tales of the queue around the block the morning after Tracy Chapman’s “Fast Car” played on Radio with Pictures. Those were the glorious golden days of rock 'n' roll that our bosses would describe to us.
But, just like a $29.99 Sounds Blockbuster sale price, nothing can last forever.
The First Signs of Change
The first clues of what was to come were subtle shifts in distribution.
CDs started being sold through gas stations rather than traditional music retailers and “The Warehouse.” Panic followed. These weren't "music stores.”
The distribution model had changed, but then - technology ultimately wiped it out for good. And it took “Now That’s What I Call Music” with it.
The second clues were the ways customers obtained information. Dial-up and early online forums (before social media) took care of this initially. Without fancy listening tools, we had “refusal lists.” Every time someone came into the store and asked for something we didn’t have, it went on a refusal list. We used these hand-drawn scrawls as data points to work out which international artists were causing a rumbling through magazines and so on for young people.
In 1999 there were hundreds of the same name written down -“Eminem.”
This was ahead of the labels presenting and certainly ahead of us promoting or radio stations playing him. How did they know about him in NZ? we wondered. But information, online talk, and murmurings were clunkily starting to travel globally. As The Guardian’s Alexis Petridis put it, “Revisiting the years of Eminem’s rise and commercial supremacy -from 1999 to 2004 - feels like peering at a distant era, in its own way as remote from and alien to the present as the 1970s or the early 80s seem. There was no social media, no smartphones, no streaming; broadband internet, digital downloads, and reality TV were all novelties.”
The Impact of Technology
In 2001, Apple released the iPod with the tagline, “1,000 songs in your pocket.” The writing on the wall got clearer. If the songs are in your pocket, they’re probably not going to be in our stores.
So, we did what all great music retailers did in those days. We asked, “WWRD?” (What Would Richard Do?), referring to our bible—Richard Branson's famed autobiography, “Losing Your Virginity” (IYKYK).
We dialed up the experience, putting in listening stations so customers could at least listen to music on iPods. We weren’t entirely sure where we were going with this, but we focused on experience rather than the original product (CD/music). We also enhanced staff service and reviews. We emphasized the value of a curated and supported experience. We designed chill-out zones, put in bean bags (just like Richard), and got creative with “added value.” This included an uncleared Metallica Best Of, which we had to recall and crush physically. We painstakingly photographed this process once Metallica's drummer, Lars Ulrich, found out about it. (True story—back then, it wasn't quite comprehended that the internet was global, and even Lars was reading the forums!)
Ads went out reminding people it was illegal to pirate music. A few examples were even made of people. But ultimately, looking back, there was nothing that could be done. The doors of disruption were open, and inevitably, we moved from music to a much safer industry—television.
What could possibly go wrong?
PS - The Final Chapter
Incredibly, despite the writing on the wall, Sounds was sold in a lucrative private sale to Blockbuster. They were still peddling VHS tapes and, luckily for the seller, missed the memo about either industry's demise.
Blockbuster entered voluntary administration in 2007.
What a ride!



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