The new DIY by Shaun Prescott

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Optimism is a hard nut to crack this decade. As the record industry is flagellated by the internet and the notions of “indie’ and “independent’s become more obscured and dubious, it’s understandable – if irritating – when older observers point out that “punk’ is dead. After all, mainstream punk culture this decade is unabashedly necrophilic, with major labels and indie labels repetitively dry humping the corpse in an age where Ramones and Nirvana shirts are sold at General Pants.

This was my view not too long ago, when, shortly after a move from rural New South Wales to inner-city Sydney, a depression came over me during a visit to the local JB Hi-Fi. While flicking through the “alternative’ music section, the hastily shoved, shrink-wrapped jewel cases almost immediately lost their meaning to me. I noticed how garish the fluorescent sale stickers were, and how insensitively My Favourite Albums were priced, and how there’d be rows of the bloody things, each crystal case cracked and the CD rattling loosely in the cover; every single copy of Sister for $14.99. In rural Australia you might pay $30 for those discs, and the range in the store would be a quarter in terms of indie or alternative music, but when you found something you loved, you cherished it.

It’s a rather boorish thing to complain about, but until then it had never really occurred to me that all my favourite records had been mass-produced in factories, sent in bulk to record stores and mishandled by apathetic and underpaid store clerks. Nor had it occurred to me before that the reason these discs exist, the reason I can buy them in record stores and the reason why record stores even stock them, is because someone wants to make money. They don’ just want to break even: they want to make a profit. Which is fairly reasonable actually, but when decisions are made for you as a listener by corporations and retailers, when a record’ place on the shelf is determined by sale statistics and popularity and profit, that, dear reader, is leaving rather too much out of the picture. You have the right to listen to music that, irrespective of commercial viability, has the right to be heard.

Doing It Yourself is by no means a new concept. It applies as equally to Rough Trade and Factory Records in ’70s England as it does to SST and American hardcore in the ’80s. It’s a thoroughly punk ethic, and probably the most valuable one. Luckily for us, DIY is not dead. In fact, private press labels are almost out of hand at the moment. CD-Rs, lathe-cut vinyl, recycled cassettes – it may be an exaggeration, but nowadays it seems that for every run of 50 albums in one of these formats a major label artist’s record is flogged illegally from the internet.

As is the case in the US, much of Australia’ private press output this decade has come from a denser, coarser, more sonically challenging bastardisation of punk music; a natural progression, if you will, of the ’80s and ’90s output of New Zealand DIY acts like the Dead C (whose influence is still felt globally) and Alastair Galbraith. The murk-sonics of Philadelphia’ Siltbreeze Records continues to be an influence on Australian labels and bands as well, but even these general references don’ touch upon the variety of material documented here.

Outside capital

It might come as a surprise to some, but many of Australia’ most prominent private press labels are based in rural or regional areas rather than the state capitals. Australia’ best known DIY label Music Your Mind Will Love You began in the tiny Northern NSW township of Kyogle, a short drive from the Queensland border.

Founded in 2005, MYMWLY was birthed when label operator Michael Donnelly decided to release his first album as Brothers of the Occult Sisterhood, Run From Your Honey Mind, into the public domain. He contacted Campbell Kneale of New Zealand micro-label Celebrate Psi Phenomenon and Kneale agreed to release the album. Donnelly grew impatient waiting for Celebrate Psi Phenomenon to release it, however, and so in that interim he birthed MYMWLY, thus unscrewing one of the Australian underground’ most effusive faucets.

A copy of Run From Your Honey Mind was heard by Digitalis and Foxglove founder Brad Rose, who was impressed enough by the record to contact Donnelly, which lead to some of MYMWLYs artists appearing on those imprints and being available (in limited runs) throughout America. Donnelly has also released albums for Rose, such as the North Sea’ Baby Blue Bones, one of Rose’ solo folk-orientated projects.

“Within a few months of the Celebrate Psi Phenomenon album being released I was getting demos sent from all over the place,” Donnelly says of the response to Run From Your Honey Mind. “I never really intended to release other people’ stuff – the label was more just a way of getting my own stuff out there. But when I listened to the demos I thought why not? And it gradually grew from there.”

The MYMWLY sound is becoming increasingly difficult to pin down as the label becomes more prolific. Brothers of the Occult Sisterhood is the best reference point though: initially a two-piece featuring Donnelly and his sister Kristina, the group has morphed into a larger, ever-shifting ensemble, a long-form improvisation incorporating both acoustic and electric textures as well as found sounds and occult-like vocal contortions. Since Kristina left the group BotOS has become a fluid collective that is defined more by environment than a defined aesthetic or core ensemble.

“It’s evolved,” Donnelly says of the group. “Originally it was myself and my sister, but she pulled out of the process a year ago. So it’s mainly me, but with other people that come and stay here. It centres on this location. It’s the same people that often play in 6Majik9, (another MYMWLY group) but when they come here and we record in this setting, it comes out as BotOS.”

“We live in a little village called Green Pigeon. It’s a great spot because it has a really nice energy, and much of the music comes from the location. It’s not so much about who plays but the fact that it’s here, and the intent that we have when we play.”

It’s very simple music, completely unadulterated, which is why MYMWLY is so prolific: Donnelly’ attitude is in favour of documentation rather than building a solid piece of aural architecture, a conventional album where a band might make a defined “statement’. When you buy a MYMWLY album, you’re plunging your wrists into a lucky dip.

Unusually, Music Your Mind Will Love You is insistent on keeping its records in print. If Donnelly is involved in the project the release will be hand crafted on demand. It’s only in cases where he releases something for an overseas artist where limits need to be set for practical purposes.

Keeping albums in print isn’ normally a priority for the private presses though, with most labels happy to do small runs of a record before leaving it permanently out of print. The Sunshine Coast’s Trapdoor Tapes label is more archetypically private press in this sense. Started in 2005 by then 15-year-old Luke Holland and 16-year-old Sam Witek, Trapdoor Tapes releases are issued in runs of between five and 80 copies, often recorded onto recycled cassettes and CD-Rs.

The labels first release was a three inch CD-R by Witek’ solo project, Emesis, closely followed by a split c10 cassette single between Emesis and MSHING (Luke Holland’ solo project) which was limited to “around 10 or so” copies. Both outfits are fairly bare-knuckle explorations of harsh noise, though the label’s overall output is more varied, taking in the fucked-up four-track pop of New Zealand’ Armpit, the dynamic noise-pop of Newcastle’ Crab Smasher and even the strangely alluring “noise-dub’ of New York’ Arklight. Again, Trapdoor Tapes are influenced by the golden-era of New Zealand avant-garde and American noise labels such as American Tapes and Hanson Records, both operated by current and former members of US noise fraternity Wolf Eyes.

“A lot of our early catalogue was more noise based,” Luke Holland says of the label’ oeuvre. “But we’ve just released a demo CD-R for Septic Surge” – a crust/metal band featuring Holland and Witek – “and last year we released a CD-R by Apple In a Cathedral, which was 25 minutes of spoken word.”

Trapdoor Tapes shares a lot in common with Breakdance the Dawn, another noise label started in Sydney, but now based in the Blue Mountains and run by Matt Earle, who also plays in Sun of the Seventh Sister and the recently Siltbreeze endorsed XNOBBQX. Both labels are defiantly lo-fi and specialise in markedly more abrasive textures than Music Your Mind Will Love You. Another quality that binds the two labels is their packaging aesthetic: whereas MYMWLY crafts impressively elaborate, sometimes hand-painted CD and record sleeves, Trapdoor Tapes and Breakdance the Dawn are content with a Xeroxed cover slipped inside a plastic sleeve. So while a MYMWLY album might contain the aura of some benevolent hippy missive, Trapdoor Tapes and Breakdance the Dawn are pure, photocopied, dirt-under-the-nails punk DIY.

The first record on Breakdance the Dawn was by a band called the Minerals. “They were like if you imagined a bunch of people really trying to make pop music but just failing abysmally,” Matt Earle says of the group, “failing because the technology is too logical or rigid, so there’ that point of interaction with the technology and trying to create pop music, because pop music has all the technology. They failed terribly at it, and didn’t have the musical ability, but they had the inspiration.”

Breakdance the Dawn was birthed out of a frustration with the stifled nature of Sydney’ experimental music scene earlier in the decade. “It was really hard to get a gig, and when there was [unusual]stuff happening like the NowNow and Impermanent Audio it was very rigid aesthetically. Something like the Minerals would be embarrassing to those guys because it didn’ fit in at all. But I felt there was real value in it.” NowNow and Impermanent Audio were experimental music evenings more likely to feature avant-garde jazz musicians and minimal electronics than they were a shambolic and squalling noise band.

Neither Breakdance the Dawn nor Trapdoor Tapes sell as much domestically as they do to overseas listeners. “I think there’ a general apathy towards people who make stuff [in Australia].” Earle suggests, “It’s part of our culture here, we have to work so hard just to get by and people really value their money and they think “fuck you for sitting around and making music and shit’. That’s what I’ve put it down to in Sydney anyway.”

Yet there are still plenty of people making stuff. DIY labels normally find listeners through word of mouth but most operators insist that selling copies of records isn’ really the point anyway; it’s the process. It’s about reclaiming music back from the world of commodity, producing without compromising, being an artist rather than just a musician.

Sean Bailey, the operator of Melbourne’ Inverted Crux label, says his decision to release privately was as much an ideological move as a practical one. “Self sufficiency is a big thing for me and has been for a long time,” he says, “and it just makes sense to do it yourself.” Since starting the label in 2004, Bailey has released cassettes and CD-Rs for his own project, Lakes, as well as releases by Paeces, Spores of the Golden Beard, and Matthew Hopkins’ Lamp Puffer project. Like Trapdoor Tapes, Inverted Crux utilises recycled cassettes and home-duplicated CDRs, sticks to limited runs and relies mostly on word of mouth and the internet to spread their wares.

“When I started music – before I even knew about a DIY culture – it just made sense to release your own stuff without having to rely on anyone else,” Bailey says. “I’ve always been really passionate about that. I think it allows you to have longevity and evolve. It just makes sense.”

“It’s really immediate. You just do it and get it out there. There are so many people around the world that I have an affinity with and that I know feel the same way, it’s something you don’ really get with majors or bigger indie labels. Majors are always trying to sell stuff, whereas with all the DIY labels I know everybody is really up for trading, sending each other stuff and keeping the network going. The immediacy of jamming and releasing a CD or tape is really appealing and something I feel strongly about.”

The immediacy that Bailey talks about is integral to DIY. The music industry has popularised the notion that musicianship is a long and laboured over process, with initial song writing, studio recording, post-production and mastering being a step-by-step indispensable process that can take years. The necessity of this process is disproven by DIY: its ethos ensures that artists remain vitalised by the ever-shifting developments of their own artistic psyche. Importantly, the artists are doing it for themselves, their own benefit, and perhaps in some cases with little regard for how an audience may respond.

Spanish Magic is another label based in Newcastle, New South Wales, that operates a little differently. Nick Senger started the label in the late ’90s to release his own solo cassette recordings, but the project really took off in 2004 with the release of Castings’ debut CD-R Electro Disco Weirdo. Castings and Spanish Magic are literally one and the same, with the six members of the band (Senger, Shaun and Mark Leacy, Kane Ewin, Dale Rees and Sam Kenna) all being involved in varying capacities in its operation.

Senger was inspired by imprints like Touch and Go and SST, labels that share Spanish Magic’ sense of quality control and work ethic, and while the DIY operative is obviously applicable to Spanish Magic, other factors separate them from their peers. In particular, Spanish Magic is not as prolific as most private press labels.

“American Tapes has a lot of crap on it, but it’s an awesome label because it zeros in on the process,” Senger says. “That’s cool but it’s not something Spanish Magic is interested in doing. We’re about the end result and we don’ subject the rest of the world to the process, which is why Castings don’ put out that much stuff. You get to see the process [when we play]live and hopefully that’s interesting.”

While perhaps not stylistically too dissimilar to Brothers of the Occult Sisterhood or even some of the more ensemble-orientated Trapdoor Tapes releases, Castings have a reputation for being an improvisational rock band with more patience and attention to detail than most of their peers: they construct immaculately well-considered and well-crafted records, as opposed to the charmingly offhand missives one might find on more prolific labels.

This ethic seems to have a trickle-down effect for the guest artists on Spanish Magic: Bad Tables (another Matthew Hopkins side-project), Expansion Bay (Nathan Thompson of New Zealand’ Sandoz Lab Technicians) and Sydney’ immersive drone two-piece Moonmilk have all released some of their best work on the label. For a one-stop, beginners guide to Australian experimental DIY, look no further than Spanish Magic’ 2005 compilation It’s Over We Don’ Care, which features contributions from BotOS, the Sydney incarnation of Garbage and the Flowers, and Hi God People, among others.

Outside closed doors

What has been documented here is only just scraping the surface of Australia’ output. New labels pop up at an alarming rate: Newcastle’ Monstera Deliciosa emerged earlier this year and already have four CD-Rs out, and Glacial Avatar Archives have been releasing gratingly loud power electronics at a slow but steady pace since 2006, recently picking up momentum with releases by Onani and Moonmilk. Then there are the other labels such as Shriek Sounds (run by Chris Hearn of Alps), Chooch-a-Bahn records, Diagnosis… Don’!, Sabbatical, Steady Cam, Dual Plover and too many more to mention.

The networking afforded by the internet is paramount to DIY musicians, but the opportunity to perform for an audience is also important. Depending on where in Australia you live, spaces where artists can perform are either in abundance or sadly lacking. Sydney’ Chooch-a-Bahn was a remarkably rich contribution to the city’s subterranean culture but when it ceased operation due to a venue closure much of the city’ most exciting music was left with nowhere regular to call home. There’ a fragility to DIY in Sydney: councils, police and real estate demands are always gnawing at the ankles. Currently, events such as Dual Plover’ Consolador De Dos Caras and venues like Dirty Shirlows, Maggotsville and Hibernian House put on regular shows, though often word is spread clandestinely for fear of closure.

There are also plenty of artists self-releasing records without officially “starting a label’. Lo-fi pop duo Vincent over the Sink released their recent album 22 Coloured Bull Terriers without a label, and Melbourne’ Fulton Girls Club (who has since changed name to Cougar Flashy) released a number of hand sewn records, created on demand.

Excitingly, record stores are stocking this stuff. Tacked to the walls of Paint It Black in Newtown is a large variety of handmade records from Castings to Heil Spirits, and Missing Link in Melbourne accepts self-made recordings on consignment, as does Rocking Horse in Brisbane. Australian retail sites such as Half/Theory (www.halftheory.com) and Cloth Ear (clothear.blogspot.com) provide more exhaustive back catalogue and generally stock most of what any given label has to offer.

So it appears the most enduring punk ethos is far from dead in 2008, and indeed it’s unlikely to abate anytime soon. But where to next? In the past, large labels have co-opted underground styles in order to pre-empt the mainstream zeitgeist a few months/years down the line. Punk, post-punk, hardcore and indie rock have all had their crossover stars, but this era of DIY is so doggedly anti-commercial that even in the permissive ’70s and ’80s they might not have stood a chance of commercial success. Is it a long and clear, wide and noisily uninterrupted road ahead? Only time will tell.

Shaun Prescott

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2 Comments

  1. i’d be interested to hear the thoughts of others on why the diy attitude is so closely linked to a fairly specific musical aesthetic? while there is some variety, as outlined in the article, it does come within a relatively narrow spectrum of musical style. while i’m a fan of a lot of what the diy scene is putting out, and buy and support it regularly, i’m a little perplexed as to why other genres/styles/hybrids haven’t latched onto the current wave of diy attitude so readily – whether that be releasing or in performance contexts? i’m most interested in, and work towards it, for my own music, but it’s not much affiliated with the noise-punk-improv end of things, and there really doesn’t seem to be the same level of networking available, but still with the diy attitude. surely there are more fans of more pop-indie-electronic styles out there who share the philosophical and creative views of the current diy-ers.

  2. first off, great article mr. prescott. i started to worry that some of these bands and releases might go undocumented so its always nice to see something like this pop up.

    as to the aesthetic same-ness of the groups discussed, i think a lot of it comes down to the technology that these artists are all fond of. these are the kids that search through vinnie’s bins for a browned paperback penguin or old man’s cardigan. that fondness for things old, warm and worn will often lead itself to recording via older technologies: thirty year old four tracks, classic busted up synths and guitars that haven’s been tuned since the 70’s. add to that plenty of delay and echo and you’ve got yourself a warm, homely womb where these skinny kids can hide from the violence and grime of the city and its streets. these kids won’t touch hip-hop cos its too clean, too sharp. they might their way to dub but it’ll be through messy punk rather than neat, shiny techno.

    the brown sound, cheap gear, cheap sounds, everything that makes this crop of DIY kids what it is.