RADAR
9 - The Curator
Publication Date: February 5, 2004
Discernment and recognition: an A&R primer
In vinyl's heyday, when the likes of Mitch Miller crawled the earth, fans might scream for autographs, but the performers' dreamed-of ink would appear on a recording contract, and for that, you needed to see (or be seen by) the mighty A&R man. In the Brill Building hit machine, "artists and repertory" meant matching marketable faces with marketable songs. But legendary A&R people like John Hammond (who signed everybody from Billie Holliday to Bruce Springsteen) played a major hands-on role in crafting the culture we breathe today—not to mention figures such as Ahmet Ertegun, who started from nothing to create a cultural force at Atlantic Records.
Today an independent A&R "industry," including many online services, claims to provide access for those who pay, but the product pushed there seems predictably ersatz. "A&R" at big labels is more often a matter of staffers reading computerized SoundScan (sales) and Broadcast Data System (airplay) reports, trolling for up-and-comers whose product is spiking in key demographics.
So who provides the hands-on now, taking an act from obscurity to that SoundScan or BDS spike that tells the majors something is up? Independent, local record labels, that's who: culture-builders at street level, niche players in the pop ecosystem, and part of a triad of exposure that includes small labels, booking agents and distributors. Even on the level of 1000-CD-and-500-vinyl-unit pressings, basic A&R functions show up such as artist development (advising, overseeing recording, booking studios) and label development (selecting a stable of artists, brand identity, street credibility).
As with all such concerns, including bigger local labels like Morphius, Monitor Records is a labor of love for its two principals, Jason and Baby Leg. Monitor offers generous terms (a 50% split) and artistic freedom to its bands, who self-produce their own work. The label’s list includes seventeen titles over four years of existence. By contrast, Chris X, sole kingpin at Reptilian Records, has focused on guitar-based punk and post-punk through 75 releases over the last ten years. In addition to more involvement in the studio and mastering room, a hallmark of Chris X's method is travel, and lots of it. Currently only about 25% of his picks are from the "splintered" Baltimore scene. He estimates that 90% of his choices are a result of his direct experience at shows around the world (as opposed to about 10% that results from bands promoting themselves to him).
Perhaps it's the size of the catalog or Reptilian's sheer duration as a label that lends a sense of businesslike selectivity to what Chris X does; as a younger label, Monitor's tales of discovery tend to meander through an extended family of tourmates, chance meetings, and partnerships with friends like Will Oldham, whose Palace label is distributed through Monitor.
With all these latter-day players, as with the A&R legends of the past, the key factor in talent selection is an instant recognition that something just feels right, whether it's the "big, aggressive" sound sought by Chris X or Baby Leg's sense of bands that play "because they have to." Monitor looks for acts that "aren't illustrators; they're painters," with an onstage commitment that transcends "product" and reaches authenticity.
Baltimore Club and hip hop exhibit an alchemical mix of "street cred," production technique and style savvy. Impresario Rod Lee is much more reminiscent of a latter-day Malcolm McLaren than his counterparts in Fells Point or Hampden, not only making the beats and writing the rhymes, but choosing performers' clothes and other elements of appearance, He creates a "whole package" that feeds into his label, his Club Kingz record store, and a prime radio spot on 92Q—an approach Lee calls "cornering my own market."
But whether in hip hop or alt-folk, before earning the notice of a label, performers must rely on people in the clubs and on the street for feedback. Success on this level, according to Baltimore rhymester Labtekwon, is empirical; it's about how a dancing, chanting crowd reacts in the moment rather than a considered decision about whether one fits into a market or a stable of talent. In this case, synapses and a lot of sweat add up to discernment en masse: a bottom-up synthesis of personality, line, and beat into somatic authority and eventually—hopefully, as always—a blip on somebody's spreadsheet.
David Crandall
Radar contributing editor Stephen Janis, also of Morphius Records, contributed information and commentary for this essay.-ED