[Matt Mayer and Toby Aronson of NNA Tapes]
By Keith Rankin
Started by Toby Aronson and Matt Mayer in 2008, NNA has flourished along with a general analog music revival, fostered predominantly by homespun labels and the heavy doses of vintage synthesizers that often blanket this website. Since 2010, the label (the name of which originally stood for "Nu New Age" as a way to half-jokingly assess this resurgence) has become the gold standard of tape imprints, instantly recognized by it's uniform circular cover designs and hand-painted cassette stickers. Spurred on by their recent foray into the vinyl medium, I spoke with Aronson and Mayer about the motivation behind the LPs, the social benefits of running a label, and where noise and ambient music appear to be heading in the cluttered 21st century.
AZ: Tell me about how the label started.
Toby: We started around 2008. Matt and I were in two different projects [Oak and A Snake in the Garden], on tour together. We would just talk in the car about starting a label. We ended up putting out three tapes, but didn't start really going heavily with it until 2010.
Matt: The first three tapes were completely DIY, with one-at-a-time dubbing and all that stuff. We're doing pro-duplication now.
AZ: What were those first three releases?
Matt: NNA01 was a split between Sun Circle, which is a project with Greg Davis and Zach Wallace, and Pregnant Moon, which was an alias of mine -- it was ambient music I recorded a little bit in Vermont and little bit in California. NNA02 was from Duane Pitre, who is a really cool dude: kind of a drone composer who used to be a pro skateboarder. He did stuff for motorized electric guitar. And then NNA03 was a split between Oak, Toby's old project, and a band from Pennsylvania called Pink Desert, who are one of our favorites ever.
[Nis Sigurdsson in his room with Escho graffiti, 2005; photo by Boris Schøiler]
MP3: Eric Copeland: "Krankendudel"
Nis Bysted, Nis Sigurdsson, Anders Jørgen Mogensen, and Andreas Hauer-Jensen have been quietly releasing albums and promoting shows in their hometown of Copenhagen since 2005. Escho, the label they founded together, takes its name from a made-up word that Bysted spraypainted on Sigurdsson's wall six years ago, essentially slang for "ultra," "extra," or "super" (examples: "I was escho mad." Or, "it was escho not cool when you puked all over my limited edition 88 Boadrum poncho.") The imprint began putting out records by Scandinavian bands that were popular exclusively in their native lands (my favorite unpronounceables include Gæoudji Sygnok and Düreforsög), but has since found international acclaim with releases from Iceage and Black Dice's Eric Copeland (both of which were Zoned In), and even earned a nod in Artforum's "Best of 2010" feature last year. During a brief stint in Denmark's capital back in June, while covering Iceage's DANISH PUNK FUCK YOU showcase at the Distortion Fest, I sat down with Anders Jørgen Mogensen for a chat. The label had just hosted a DIY pop-up show in an alleyway for "Sleepy" Doug Shaw of Gang Gang Dance's solo project, Highlife, and we spoke about throwing shows, the Copenhagen scene, and Escho's beginnings.
AZ: Tell me about how Escho began.
Anders: We were all musicians and in a strange phase creatively. There were so many of our friends who had recorded records that they couldn't put out. We were big fans of Gang Gang Dance, and we couldn't get any venues to put them on, so we just started a venue ourselves. After booking shows, one of our friends-- T.S. Høeg, who was a jazz musician, in his fifties-- said, "I got some money from the state to do a record. You can just have the record, use the funding I got, and put money into the company." He was actually part of the first punk generation of the late '70s.
We didn't have any distribution or anything. We rode around on our bikes, asking record shops if they wanted to sell our things. And they said "Yes," because even though it was only six years ago, things were different for record labels. That was the first time for us; it was very different then. [Then] a lot of small record companies started surfacing and people started putting out a lot of music, but people weren’t buying records anymore. With the Iceage seven-inches, we went around to stores and just gave them away.
[Night-People founder Shawn Reed, playing live in Montreal as Wet Hair]
By Jenn Pelly
MP3: Cellophane Spill: "Zaj Mak Ta"
If you really want to get inside the mind of Night-People founder Shawn Reed, start with his website. His descriptions of the tapes and records in the catalog read like copy from your uncle's collection of dusty, late-'80s fanzines: raw, sincere, and witty, unearthed from some creaky, time-warped attic. "The end is coming and this is what it might sound like," Reed writes of Earth Station, a "now age" or "power ambient" collabation between Mike Pollard and Peter Friel for whom he has released a tape. In his description of "new wave trash" group Sewn Leather, he sums up the underground ethos that defines his eight-year old, Iowa City-based imprint: "Dance party tunes for dead beat punks, dirty weirdos, and those who aspire to morbid underground lifestyles," Reed writes. "Always on tour, or sleeping on your friends' couch."
Shawn launched the imprint in 2003 as a means of self-releasing Is Night People, the debut cassette from his old band, Raccoo-oo-oon (coincidentally, the band also claimed the "001" spot in the Woodsist catalog with "Mythos Folkways Vol. 1," far more esoteric than anything the label slings today). Reed has had a track record of putting the best of contemporary music counterculture to tape, archiving the standout acts of the global underground, from Melbourne to Los Angeles. On the phone, he describes his aesthetic in 2011 as pop filtered through a Xerox machine. He says that he approaches the label more like an art project than anything else, and that he uses his background in printmaking and multimedia to design, silk-screen, and hand assemble art for each release. "It's hard for me to keep up as one person," he admits. "People get mad at me, but dude, I'm not like, Insound. I am one dude in a house in Iowa."
Reed is, nonetheless, excited: he just capped off a holiday weekend swimming at a reservoir with friends, and is slowly regaining his walking abilities after a "gnarly knee injury" from a soccer league scrimmage. Immediately after the accident-- but before surgery-- he played a string of shows with his band Wet Hair, supporting Zola Jesus and Naked on the Vague in Madison and Minneapolis. He's lived in Iowa City since 2004, but averages three months on the road per year. "There’s hardly any local recognition of the label in Iowa City," Reed says, "or of anything we do." Read on for a condensed version of our conversation, wherein Reed explains the origins of Night-People, his art background, and how running a tape label in Iowa has shaped his thinking about music.
MP3: Secret Colors: "Heavy Sleeper"
MP3: Expensive Looks: "Vanishers"
Two months ago, Group Tightener Records was a single genre label. Co-founders Sam Hockley-Smith and Jamie Granato had created a stable of 7 inch singles with blown-out vocals and reverberating guitar--a go-to for fast-hitting, distorted pop-rock and powerful summer vibes that amplify with a 32 oz. Styrofoam cup of frozen margarita. They built their label off the lo-fi riffs of Best Coast, Fluffy Lumbers, and Cloud Nothings. These days though, classifying this Brooklyn-based label is a bit harder; a string of new summer releases doesn't so much break the mold as complicate it.
Our audiophilic duo is from Washington State. Sam is from Seattle and Jamie is from Bainbridge--an island just off the city's coast. Bainbridge Island is also home to the label’s eponym, a rudimentary drinking game. Jamie supplies an example: "You’re with all your friends and you say, 'We got to group tighten this bottle of whiskey.'" The peers then collectively drink the alcohol in a hurried fashion--usually on a beach or before attending a party. Even with its connotations of peer pressure and binge drinking, Jamie and Sam like to focus on the community and goal-oriented aspects of 'group tightening.'
They met at Olympia’s Evergreen College. They had classes together; Jamie had a ponytail. After graduation they both ended up in New York. Jamie was DJing by night and working at Kim’s Video and Music as Music Buyer by day. Sam was interning at The FADER, and visiting Jamie at Kim’s during his lunch break. With the entire record store at their disposal, they spun the rock and rap they grew up listening to and came across the likes of Detroit techno producer Richie Hawtin, ambient artists from Kranky Records, and German minimal electronic label Raster-Noton. They were bonded by their interest in music of all genres. "I have a distinct memory of listening to Excepter records with Jamie at like 7:00 a.m., after staying up all night with [him] when I first moved to New York," Sam says.
Along with being a scruffy ginger, Sam is a music journalist. He knows an intern is going to transcribe the recording of the interview. He knows what the publishable story is, and he tells it straight-up. Jamie is less concerned with narratives and talking points, but smiles as scenes from their past pop into his head. Both get schoolgirl-giddy when talking about music.
By Jenn Pelly
MP3: James Ferraro: "Cinderella"
In a recent interview, DIY archivist Michael Azerrad, author of the 10-year-old indie bible, Our Band Could Be Your Life, called the musical period of the present one of greatest he's ever known. “If you think music sucks right now, in the deepest sense you are old,” he told The Village Voice. Azerrad's words echo the ethos of seminal blog-era indie label Underwater Peoples, founded two-and-a-half years ago by four seniors at DC's George Washington University: Ari Stern, Mike Mimoun, Evan Brody, and Sawyer Carter Jacobs, now a first-year student at Brooklyn Law School.
The label has also served as an avenue for Brody, Ari, Sawyer, and Mimoun's own music; they formed the band Family Portrait in 2009, and released a 7" and an LP prior to the band's recent shift from a neo-'50s jangle-pop four-piece to a more electronics-oriented trio, which still includes Ari and Brody, and occasionally, Mimoun on drums. When I met up with the guys at Mimoun’s downtown Manhattan apartment, the four 23-year-olds continually finished each other’s sentences as they discussed UP's origins and growth.
AZ: You guys attended GW together. How did you first meet?
Ari: We lived on the same floor.
Sawyer: I lived with some dudes and hung out; they lived with other dudes and hung out.
Brody: Ari and I smoked a joint one day and walked to the National Mall. Ari’s from Livingston, 25 minutes away from Ridgewood. I was surprised I never met Ari until college. It is quite possible we attended the same Bar Mitzvahs.
By Max Lavergne
MP3: Bed Wettin' Bad Boys: "Nobody Else"
R.I.P. Society is a punk label based in Sydney, Australia. It was founded in 2008 by Nic Warnock, who still runs the whole operation pretty much single-handedly, and has released records by Royal Headache, Naked On The Vague, Woollen Kits and Straight Arrows, among others. The label'shas played a major part in unifying and popularising the proto-punk/new wave movement that’s re-energised the local underground scene. I sat down with Nic to talk about where R.I.P. Society came from and what excites him about music.
AZ: Tell us how R.I.P. Society started.
Nic: I left Cairns (in far north Queensland) when I was 17 and moved to the western suburbs of Sydney to study graphic design. In my honours year I started toying with the idea of starting a record label. There was kind of a shift from the music I was interested in, that my friends were doing-- more freeform, DIY, exploratory sound stuff-- to classic rock or pop songs. Three-minute things that seemed to deserve more than a CD-R or a cassette release, that didn’t really suit that format. And I looked into the figures of it and I thought, this is doable, I’ve got enough disposable income, which isn’t very much, to start this.
I was playing in Circle Pit at the time and they had a 7” recorded and no one really wanted to release it, so I was like, “Let’s just get this shit done, this is boring.” So I just did it.
By Jenn Pelly
With a catalogue of early releases from the likes of Blank Dogs, Zola Jesus, and Gary War, Brooklyn’s Sacred Bones Records has established itself as one of independent music’s most enigmatic underground labels. Founded in 2007 by Denver transplant Caleb Braaten, now 33, the label has since grown to include partner Taylor Brode, 32, and a crew of generous creatives. Their releases range from Kosmiche-inspired soundscapes to straight-ahead cyberpunk, all bound with an elusive but tight, dark thread. From its goth-tinged music videos and occultish triangle logo to its signature white vinyl packaging, Sacred Bones has succeeded in shrouding itself in an aura of romance and mystery.
Sort of. During our interview outside Williamsburg café Bakeri on November 19th, this enigma was met mostly with laughter. “Hell yeah,” Caleb jokes, “That’s exactly it. It’s whatever you want it to be.” Caleb and Taylor spilled a few Sacred Bones secrets before heading to Bones HQ: the dark and dingy basement of Brooklyn’s Academy Records, ground-packed with Sharpie-marked “SBR-00X” cardboard boxes and a small Tom Petty photo. The next day, they left to catch up with label mainstays Zola Jesus and Gary War at a 1,200-year old castle in the medieval Italian town of Itri, where the artists recorded a collaborative record for Sacred Bones last week. Read on to learn more about their upcoming releases and European adventures, and to find out which of their artists are heading from bedroom to studio in 2011 to ditch the hiss.
AZ: Can you tell me about your backgrounds and what lead you to start Sacred Bones?
Caleb: I’m a high school graduate from Denver, Colorado. I moved to New York seven years ago and worked at Bleecker Bob’s in Manhattan, then at Academy Records in Brooklyn. The first Sacred Bones record was The Hunt, some of my best buds in the city. They recorded songs, and I was like, "Yeah, sure, I’ll put out a record." I didn’t know how to sell a record aside from at the store I worked at. The next record was Blank Dogs. I got lucky that people liked it and there was an Internet buzz.
Taylor: I’m from Chicago. Caleb and I became friends five years ago. I was a Sales Rep at Touch and Go, and Caleb was one of my buyers. Then Touch and Go laid off their whole staff. In 2009, I started working for Caleb remotely, and in early 2010, I came here to do Sacred Bones full-time. I also worked at Reckless Records in Chicago for almost nine years. Sacred Bones is an 80-hour-a-week job, but we both have night jobs. I work for Bowery Presents part-time, Caleb bartends.
By Samantha Cornwell
Last week I sat down with Britt and Amanda Brown of the Los Angeles imprint Not Not Fun. Their Eagle Rock home, which doubles as the label’s headquarters, is located behind a questionable medical establishment that specializes in boil removal and botox. We discussed a wide range of issues, including the changing landscape of music distribution, how Amanda bounces back when Sade wont return her calls, and whether there is really such a thing as an "LA sound".
AZ: How did Not Not Fun get started?
Britt: It started in 2004. I had known Amanda about a year at that point, and she had talked about doing a label. We had started making music together, and I was in another band, and we had some other friends who were in bands. She decided that it would be fun if we made a two-song-per-band compilation cassette, and sell them for $3 to people we knew. We decided that as long as we were making a mixtape, we might as well act like we were a record label and call it something. The way we operate the label has changed tremendously since then. Now it's our full-time job that we both do 6 or 7 days a week, and we ship records all over the planet
AZ: What qualities do you look for as "curators" of music?
Amanda: Britt and I have really different tastes, so it's more where we overlap, and what we come together to like. If it were just me curating a record label, it would probably be just hip-hop and dance records. And if it was just Britt, it would probably be more esoteric music. I think when we come together, it's about looking for hardworking, soulful, creatively talented people. We care more about relationships.
Britt: Like with anything else, our tastes change from year to year and what we put out varies. Sometimes a genre that we did like will become a little uninspiring. Something like Garage Rock is something that Amanda and I have never been particularly into, but I would never rule it out if some band came along and seemed like they were doing it in some strange, unusual way.
Amanda: When we got sent a Ducktails album to put out in 2008, we had our minds blown, but after two years of Ducktails rip-off albums? You gotta be blowing my mind way harder than he was in 2008 if you want us to put out the music.
By Samantha Cornwell
Leaving Records is a Los Angeles-based label run by musician Matthew David McQueen (aka matthewdavid) and Jesselissa Lisa Moretti. The operation is based out of their pyramid, which is tucked away in the green hills of Mt. Washington. Their releases float in that immaculate space where the electronic meets the organic. We could throw a number of adjectives at you right now-- beat-centric, ambient, hip-hop-inspired, sample-delic-- but let’s get the story in Matthew's own words, which he shared with us via email:
AZ: Why did you start Leaving Records?
Matthew: While I was working at dublab, a non-profit internet radio posse out of Los Angeles), there were daily encounters with untapped musicians from many scenes. I presented the label idea to my favorite artist, Jesselisa, and she agreed to head all visual direction. We had been entirely dialed-in to the Los Angeles music and art scene at Florida State University, [where we met,] head-on immersed in a wonderful art department and college radio station. It was something that we started in our living room, cutting and pasting away at our new homie dak’s debut release. The silk-screening, the tape-dubbing, it was all done as an art project. It wasn’t long until we realized the project was one we could let others see and hear through the pipelines of dublab, sort of re-injecting all the amazing music we had come across through that very same community of world-wide listenership and art.
Nothing would have happened without both of us. With me having complete confidence in Jesselisa’s craft and design as visual director of the label, and her having trust in my curation of unheard music, we began... It’s so valuable working closely with our artists to develop their first records, to develop the album art. It’s all an intensely personal experience for us, making everything together. We learned a lot from dublab, and they exposed us to a lot of the artists we have and are currently working with.
By Jack Shankly (Transparent)
Tri Angle Records is an electronic stable curated by 24-year-old London/New York resident Robin Carolan. As a core contributor to the 20 Jazz Funk Greats blog (which is affiliated with Altered Zones, although Carolan himself is not an AZ contributor), Carolan's vision blurs the line between mainstream and avant-garde to the point of erasing the distinction altogether. With an artist roster that includes Balam Acab, oOoOO, Nowa Huta, and Stalker, the label is excavating the inherent weirdness and darkness of contemporary pop, and twisting its structures into brave new forms. Altered Zones recently spoke to Robin about his aims for Tri Angle, the curse of "witch house", and the fascinating car-crash that is Lindsay Lohan.
AZ: At what point did you decide to translate your success with 20JFG to a physical label?
Robin: Tri Angle was borne mostly out of frustration. As much as I enjoy writing about music and promoting it in that way, at some point last year I felt like I wanted to have more of a hand in getting the music out there.
AZ: Your deal with Kompakt seems perfectly appropriate. How did that come about?
Robin: Kompakt, knowing my background and what I was about, basically took a leap of faith and offered me a label. I’d known the Kompakt guys for a while and had helped out on a few projects, like the Fright imprint which [Kompakt founder] Michael Mayer and [Kompakt label manager] Jon Berry set up to release artists like Gatekeeper and Antoni Maiovvi. When I decided I was really serious about starting a label, I went to them merely looking for advice. A week later, they came back to me with this amazing offer. I grew up listening to Kompakt records, so it was a pretty surreal moment. Kompakt are so good at what they do. Having that kind of support has been massively important to me.

