From the moment it opened, in the summer of 1992, Lucy’s Record Shop was destined to close. A pop-culture movement is by nature ephemeral: It emerges in the moment and flickers briefly, and its demise is inevitable. In its moment, it may embody the exuberance and spirit of its time so precisely that it seems poignant in retrospect. But any movement defined by youth is destined to end-just like youth. The cyclical nature of rock ‘n’ roll demanded that Lucy’s wouldn’t last. Most OF Lucy’s regulars say the club’s brightest years were between 1993 and 1996. It had achieved some national notoriety: Versus picked Lucy’s as one of its favorite clubs in the country in Details magazine, and Rolling Stone shot part of an indie fashion spread there. More important, though, was that throughout those years, Lucy’s exemplified the openness of indie-rock culture. Bands traveling through town could either crash at a fan’s house or sleep in the store-which prevented a robbery on at least one occasion. Spontaneous shows were common, especially since Lucy’s relied on word of mouth. A band passing through town could stop by Lucy’s and maybe even play that night. The documentary Lucy Barks!, filmed in 1994 and ‘95 by Vanderbilt student Stacy Goldate, captures some of the hubbub of the scene. Kids in fishnets and ripped jackets sprawl across the dilapidated couch in Lucy’s lobby. The most popular local band to play at Lucy’s, Fun Girls from Mt. Pilot-a group clad in skirts and hideous makeup, led by none other than Donnie Kendall-thrashes a seething mosh pit into a blur of bobbing heads and elbows.