Nurseries in New Mexico
This was initially written for my Creative Writing I class, but it’s an interesting enough topic that I felt it deserved being posted for your consumption.
Rolling Stone senior editor David Fricke once commented that every band that knew they were worth their salt intrinsically wanted to get their music out to as many people as possible. In my experience, this theory has generally proven true, regardless of how palatable the music might be for others. In my case, said music usually lacked any sort of melody or time signature, and lasted anywhere from sixteen minutes to sixteen seconds.
Hardly the kind of music you would find on Billboard’s Hot 100 chart.
This fact, however, did not stop one person from sending me a message on Myspace in the summer of 2005 saying that he liked my music and would I be interested in signing to his new record label Postdawn Nurseries?
There are some that hold the opinion that an artist must “cut their teeth” before they are deemed worthy of success, which in the context of most forms of popular music means playing concerts to ten people and independently releasing music to the fanfare of no one. Perhaps this is why the whole situation seemed so fantastical. Sure, I had been in a few bands that never made it out of the garage and, to my knowledge, nobody was really talking about my band at the time, but randomly being offered any sort of record deal was completely unexpected.
For the most part, one couldn’t ask for a better deal. Were I to sign to the label, I would retain ownership of the master recordings (a rarity in the recording industry), have complete creative control over what music was released, and would receive 50% of all sales from my music. Also, this would be a non-exclusive deal, meaning that I would not be contractually bound to the label were I to receive a more lucrative offer from another, more established label, which would save me from many of the more complicated legalities inherent in most recording contracts.
This was the kind of deal most bands would kill for.
However, I had a few misgivings about the whole thing. For one, nothing mentioned in this detail was in any legalized document, which past experience with similar deals has made me naturally distrustful of. Second, not only was the founder of the label completely unknown to me, but so was every band on his label. I found this a tad off-putting, particularly given the relatively small size of the scene my band was a part of. This feeling of the whole thing coming out of nowhere was further compounded by the fact that the label was based in Alamogordo, a small town in the middle-of-nowhere New Mexico who’s only claim to fame was that Atari had dumped millions of unsold E.T. video game cartridges in the town landfill in the mid-1980s.
Because of these misgivings, I wasn’t sure what to do. Should I take my chances and accept a lucrative handshake deal from a stranger whom I had no reason to trust, or should I decline and blow what could be a great opportunity?
I decided to split the difference. Instead of signing onto the label to deliver a full album, I licensed a song to them for a compilation that was due out that September. My experiences with that compilation would determine whether or not I would sign to the label.
Well, September came and went, and no word was mentioned of that compilation. The following October had proven to be equally quiet. After sending an email to the label asking what had become of the compilation, I was told that there were “unforeseen delays,” but that the compilation would be released by the end of the year.
This was not only the last I ever heard about the compilation, but it was also the last time the label would return any of my emails. Seeing as I had little invested in the label, I shrugged of the experience and moved on.
As it turned out, the label had, so far as I could tell, more or less folded by the beginning of 2006. The label’s myspace has not been updated in almost two years, and their website has been completely deactivated. The entire output of the label, digital or otherwise, has gone out of print. Worse still, it appears that every band that had been signed to that label had disintegrated shortly after the dissolution of the label.
All’s well that ends well I guess.
It’s only rock and roll though, right?
God, what a lame-O….Down with the man!!!!
Seriously, though…..Shawn, I didn’t realize you had so much invested in my label. I generally got the impression that everyone but me didn’t really care, so I dropped off the radar to live life a bit, and get my shit in order, so to speak. Granted, it’s been a couple of years now, but the label’s not dead, and if you’ll permit, I’m not really that big of a jerk either. If I missed your email, I apologize. Moving across the country seems to have that effect on me, as I’m not the most organized. I still have your discs lying around somewhere I’m sure, but it’s a new day. Don’t be so angry, eh?
Don’t welt so hard on Alamo, either. People there are irradiated, sure, but it’s a nice place to visit!
Onward to 2012!!!!
Much of what I wrote was how I felt at the time all of this was going on , and not necessarily how I felt now and at the time I wrote that.
Truth be told I was a naive idiot in those days and was pretty unexperienced with just about everything, so I pretty much took everything way too seriously and over-thought everything (as I’m wont to do). Given that, you can imagine what whacked-out conclusions I made once you dropped off the radar.
Again, the feelings expressed were those I had at the time, and not how I feel at present, and I apologize for inadvertently presenting it as such.
Too good then. You were right though. I didn’t handle it very professionally. I’m actually considering dissolving the label. Who needs a label anyways, especially when it’s just a conventionality? I don’t do good at handling others’ music the way I should, so I’ll just focus on my own, and maybe close associates, but that’s it! Hey man, best of luck to you and what you choose to do. I look forward to our next foray.
Chris