On one of the worst mornings of my life, I woke up to find that one of my favorite bands had removed all of its music from Spotify.

I was devastated.

I searched everywhere: Bandcamp, Spotify, YouTube, and the band’s website and Facebook page. I found nothing. It was as if the band had never existed.

I’d thought all hope was lost until my friend found a copy of the band’s only released CD. Suddenly, we both had the music we loved back. We listened to it for days, savoring the album we had and mourning the two we lost—because the band never physically released them.

I’m an avid fan of independent music and small, local bands. Most of these artists don’t have their music attached to large distribution arms and therefore tend to be looser with how they post their work—meaning that at near random, music can be wiped from the internet.

Now, any time I fall in love with an album, I buy a copy of it. I’ll buy CDs, vinyls, digital downloads and, on rare occasions, cassettes. What’s important is that I own the music. I don’t have the money to buy copies of everything I enjoy, but if I fall in love with a project or an artist, I’ll be sure to own something.

I learned my lesson. If another band I love took down its music now, I’d have a CD so I could still listen. If, in 10 years, any artists I enjoy choose to remove their music and re-edit their albums, I’ll still have the originals. No one can change my music or take it away from me.

When you stream music, movies or shows, you’re renting them. The company that owns the rights to the product allows you access when you pay for it.

I don’t want some corporate bigwig deciding what art I can listen to or watch and what I can’t. At any point, Netflix may decide that your favorite movie doesn’t match with its brand image and pull it off its site.

I can’t stand the idea of some third party deciding what content I can consume based on what they think is marketable.

Own your music. Own your movies. Own copies of the things you love.