About a year and a half ago, Todd Ortego was working in his Music Machine store in Eunice when a teacher from the local parochial school brought in his class for a reward. To help make extra cash, Ortego sells snowballs out of the music shop. As he watched the kids mill about the shop eating their treat, he noticed they were gazing at posters of musicians but not browsing the CDs in the racks. Then it struck him: With song downloads and swapping off the Internet, the kids were so far removed from actually buying music that his store didn't remotely interest them.

Stuck between slowing sales from free file-swapping on peer-to-peer networks and pay downloads sites such as iTunes and Napster, Music Machine is teetering on the edge of closure. With his last employee leaving this week, Ortego says the end is inevitable and that the shop will limp along on "as-can-open" hours before having a blowout sale, lucky if it makes it past its 28th birthday in April.

"We don't really make anything out of it," says Ortego. "It's kinda like one of your kids -- sentimental value as long as it's paying for itself and everything."

Music Machine isn't alone. With about 68 percent of the country's population using the Internet, music stores all over the country are fighting for their existence in a world of instant gratification and availability. Why drive down to the store and pay $15 for a CD when you can download a song in 30 seconds and get only the songs you like? Why buy anything when your best friend is more than willing to share it with you? These are questions for which many music store owners have no real answers. As a result, we are seeing the end of an era. Soon, independent stores like Music Machine might be as old fashioned, as out of date and as hard to find as manual typewriters.

On Ash Wednesday, Ortego was at work at his full-time job at radio station KBON, a job he's held since November 2004. He says business picked up somewhat at Music Machine thanks to Mardi Gras tourists, and while he delights in selling local music, especially to out-of-towners who don't know what to look for or can't find it elsewhere, he realizes it's not enough.

"That's the good part of the job I like," he says. "However, you can't live on that alone. You can't sustain a building and a business selling just that. You don't sell that much of the national stuff anymore, anything that the computer savvy people like, and it's getting more and more like that with Cajun music."

For the past five years or more, Ortego has heard the industry's damage report on the mp3-sharing controversy. It really wasn't a problem until the last few, because, he says, things move slower in the South, especially considering the low saturation of high-speed Internet in rural communities like Eunice. Still, patrons began blatantly asking him if he thought they could download the music he sold from the Net. More sheepish ones called and asked who recorded a certain song. "You kinda hate to tell them, 'cause that's what they wanna do. They just try to look for it on the Internet."

Jason Broussard sees the same thing at his Lafayette music store, Tunz. Though his store specializes in different genres, Broussard's staff has grown weary with the same problems faced by Ortego. A sure red flag, he says, is when a caller asks his staff how to spell an artist's name.

"We're to the point now where when someone calls (and says), 'Hey T, ya'll got that new uh whatever song that goes like this ..." Broussard says before imitating the beat with a series of blaps. "Actually, they won't say ya'll got it. They'll say 'I'm looking for the song that does whatever.' It's to the point where we have to tell them we can't even tell them the title because they're gonna go download it."

With the popularity of mp3 players like the iPod, Ortego knows such problems aren't going to stop and brick and mortar record stores will become a thing of the past. And he's probably right.

In February, iTunes logged its billionth download. The music site, unlike peer-to-peer platforms such as Soulseek and Kazaa, sells songs individually for 99 cents and complete albums at the bargain basement price of $9.99. While it makes its dividends by selling mainstream acts like Coldplay, John Legend and 50 Cent, it also contains a healthy selection of Cajun and zydeco music -- a quick search reveals 20 bands, from modern artists like Steve Riley & The Mamou Playboys and The Lost Bayou Ramblers to classics like Dennis McGee and Amede Ardoin. Although not as prevalent, file swappers on programs like Soulseek offer free downloads of Keith Frank, The Mamou Playboys, Clifton Chenier, BeauSoleil and a few compilations. Previously, the genre's relative obscurity helped keep record stores like Music Machine afloat.

"It's a niche that people couldn't find maybe so well on the Internet," says Ortego. "(Or at) the mass merchandise stores -- or if they did they didn't know what to look for -- it's pretty much self service. So, we could help them with that. Give them recommendations and tell them who made the certain song they are looking for."

Ortego started Music Machine in 1978 on his 19th birthday. He never went to college but received a higher education working at Floyd's Records of Ville Platte from the time he was in 8th grade. Being a music fan, it was what he wanted to do and what he kept doing, even in the lean years when the oil field busted in the 1980s. To keep the store running, he began offering videos. Later, he started doing mobile DJ services and selling those frozen slushy snowballs. For a time, he also dabbled in selling beepers and cell phones, giving up the latter because it took too much time. His wife Debbie, who took accounting classes in college, handled their books. As Ortego says, they were pretty self-sufficient. As other stores failed, Music Machine's low-budget operation survived. But in November 2004, he took a full-time job at KBON.

"I'm having a little trouble 'cause the Cajun and zydeco scene is probably stronger than it's ever been. Look at all these bands and look how enthusiastic the audiences are right now," Ortego says, pointing out the popularity of bands like Travis Matte & The Zydeco Kingpins and the Pine Leaf Boys. "That part gives me some encouragement and it's exciting that the scene is healthy. It's just the CD sales are going to be tough."

The decision to shut down Music Machine isn't easy. Ortego loves his store. He says he will miss the pride and satisfaction of selling Louisiana music. "It's something that I'm so proud of, it's my entertainment. It's what I do for fun, it's what I listen to all the time. So, when I can accommodate somebody locally or out of town that comes in and buy some of this stuff, I really like it that part of the job. It's very fulfilling."

Music Machine is just latest casualty in the local music retail business. Chain stores CD Warehouse, Blockbuster Music and Sound Shop have all failed in Lafayette. If you ask owners of now closed local shops, Raccoon Records and Toys Music Center, it was the downloading that killed their stores.

In 2003, George Berry of Raccoon told The Times downloading impacted his 28 year-old-store "terrifically ... It was one of the main reasons that we had to shut it down after all these years."

Dave Hubbell -- who stopped selling music in Lafayette and switched to a live music venue and selling his stock online after being evicted from his St. Mary Boulevard location -- reported his CD sales fell 80 percent in six years.

Ironically, while many local stores struggled with downloading, the family that owns the oldest record store in the state has embraced pay downloads. Floyd's Record Store in Ville Platte is owned by Floyd Soileau, who is also the major shareholder and president of the Swallow, Jin and Maison de Soul record labels.

While many of the Cajun and zydeco downloads offered on pay sites are property of Soileau's labels and sold in their store, Chris Soileau, Floyd's son and vice president of Swallow Publications Inc., is quick to point out it's not competition. Soileau says the customers who walk into Floyd's and shell out $15 for a complete CD aren't the sort of people who'll download from iTunes or nefariously swap music online. Of course, it might also be that out in the country his shoppers don't yet have the methods to acquire music online or are just diehards who'd rather buy an actual CD. There's also a chance Floyd's status as an iconic music store helps pay the bills. Still, Chris Soileau says that though the store has changed in the past few years -- reducing staff and doing wholesale and distribution out of the back half while making retails sales in the front -- and that the numbers aren't as good as they once were, Floyd's is hanging in there.

"The thing that saves Floyd's is the fact is that it is one of the oldest stores around. It's got 50 years of advertising and customers behind it, and it's a unique business ... it's offerings are still unique ... not your regular discount store merchandise," says Soileau. "If I wanted to start up a local Cajun and zydeco store in a small town in Louisiana today, I'd just as soon sign over everything I have to the sheriff right now, 'cause that's where it's gonna be."

Soileau says the demise of brick and mortar's stores began when music became a commodity instead of a valued artistic product. The problem was compounded by sharing and copying. "When the fascination with CD copying and peer-to-peer networks was outrageous a couple of years ago, the irony was that the lovers of the music began it's slow death and they didn't realize it. A lot of folks still don't realize it."

When music from the labels went online for individual sale, Soileau's catalogs went from having under 200 CDs to more than 2,500 individual tracks. It cost them in overhead and cuts into the profit of the buck paid to download the track, but he gave it a nod as being a significant amount of revenue. Their downloading numbers from the last quarter of 2005 were up double from 2004, and the label moved its most CDs in four years. Celebrating its 50th birthday in May with a two-day event, the store doesn't appear to be going anywhere and the Flat Town Music Store is preparing to offer its own pay downloads.

"You look at this way, either lose out to all the free peer-to-peer sites or you put your music up in a legitimate site where at the end of the year you can do the accounting. You can account for those sales, you can pay your performing artists, your co-publishers and your song writers for that track that was sold for a buck. Or you can miss out completely and nobody gets anything. If we don't offer it legally, they'll obtain it illegally and neither the artist, songwriters, publishers, or producers receive any compensation for a product they've invested in producing."

Mitch and Lisa Reed, owners of Louisiana Heritage & Gifts on Gloria Switch, also know that just selling CDs won't be enough to keep them going.

"I haven't made a penny with this place at all. The money I make I just pay my (bills). I try to stay out of debt," Mitch Reed says, adding his wife has a good job and he gives music lessons to make extra money. "I wanna get out of it, I wanna shut this place down. I'm not making any money. But then, now I can't (close) because it's like all these people are so into the shop. They're like, 'Man if you shut this place down, I don't know what I'm gonna do.' What's cool is that it really keeps me in touch with all the local people. I'm a musician and I have performed for a long time but never before have I ever been so in touch with the community as I have having this place. That's something I know if I shut the shop down. I would miss that cause its awesome. ... We feel more like we are helping the community out."

Even though it's a holiday and there should be some tourists about, Ash Wednesday at Louisiana Heritage & Gifts isn't busy at all. Only a few customers -- more friends than anything -- are picking through the store's racks as Mitch Reed, clad, oddly enough, in a black AC/DC shirt, puts price tags on Drew Landry's Tailgaten Relief and Hurricane Companion EP. With Nathan Abshire playing on the stereo, a friend of Reed's stuffs a couple CDs in his pockets and asks if Reed ever gets shoplifters. Reed laughs and says sure, and it's always someone he knows. When Reed rings him up, the customer is worried Reed gave him too much of a discount. Reed replies, "I always give my friends 10 percent."

When Raccoon closed, Ortego told Reed he had to step up and be the supplier of Cajun and zydeco music. At the time, the store was selling Louisiana-themed gifts -- getting by "on rubber alligators," laughs Reed. It had only a small assortment of CDs, mostly Reed's favorites of old time Cajun music. But he bought racks from Raccoon and expanded his offerings. Now, on the three large racks and seven smaller spinner vertical racks, he's added newer artists like Travis Matte and Horace Trahan to the genre groundbreakers.

If they aren't rolling in cash, it's not the fault of Soulseek or iTunes say the Reeds. If their customers were downloading music, they say they'd know about it. It's almost as if the network of local musicians and fans who shop the store care more about the music and don't mind supporting it financially.

Says Mitch Reed, "that's what's good about being just a total local music store. I'm supporting just the local artists and hopefully those local guys are going make sure their music isn't being downloaded for free."

Lisa Reed agrees, saying the downloading of Cajun and zydeco isn't as bad as it is for mainstream music. "A lot of the local stuff is not downloadable. It's the same reason why Wal-Mart doesn't carry a lot of the local music -- it's not the mainstream music."

While the more classic Cajun and zydeco, and even some of the newer material, is available online, it's the bands that fall between the cracks of Internet consumption that people buy at the Reeds' store. After all, you're not going to find the Pine Leaf Boys and Kevin Naquin and a Cajun French instructional set on a free or pay-for-play Web site. Still, the Reeds know that sales of hot CDs, like the new Travis Matte, isn't going to make them rich.

"I think, hopefully, the local people are supportive enough to come and buy the music from us, instead of downloading," says Lisa Reed. "It's kinda a mixed blessing that Cajun is a little obscure."

"The way I look at it, the more people come to the shop the better," says Mitch Reed. "I guess there's other ways I could expand but I don't want to because then it takes away from what this place is. This is what the culture is about. This is what I want to focus on. I really try to keep from bringing in other cultures. I want to keep this just Cajun and Creole -- I want to keep it Cajun, swamp pop, Creole."

For Lisa Reed, the store's sticking point isn't so much someone downloading Amede Ardoin off Kazaa, but music fans and potential customers who don't know about the Gloria Switch shop. Right now, what keeps the shop going is the lagniappe it offers, Saturday jam sessions by local musicians and music lessons by both Mirch and Steve Riley.

"If we were just doing this without the jams and the lessons," she says, "we would have probably closed our doors already. It's just not enough."