Journal of Popular Music Studies, Volume 24, Issue 2, Pages 217–237

“If It Ain’t Cheap, It Ain’t Punk”: Walter Benjamin’s

Progressive Cultural Production and DIY Punk
Record Labels
Kevin Dunn
Hobart and William Smith Colleges

This article examines contemporary independent do-it-yourself (DIY) punk

record labels, regarding them as potentially significant sites of political
engagement at the intersection of cultural production and the global political
economy. Drawing upon extensive interviews with well over a hundred DIY
punk labels from around the globe, the article explores the varied ways
in which DIY record labels offer possibilities for political resistance. The
article first sketches the development of the global DIY punk record industry
over the past several decades, noting the translocal networks that have helped
create and connect punk scenes across the globe. The article then explores the
practices of these record labels, drawing particular attention to distinctions
between DIY and major corporate record labels. Central to this section is
the argument that, in most cases, DIY record labels serve as both a social
activity and an anticapitalist business model. This leads into an examination
of the ways in which DIY punk labels embody Walter Benjamin’s call for
progressive cultural production.
The recent Occupy Wall Street and related movements have thrown
into stark relief many people’s frustrations with globalization and existing
capitalist structures and practices, as well as the inherent challenges
of imagining, articulating, and realizing alternative ways of being. This
is particularly true given the seeming ubiquity of global corporate-led
capitalism. As Hardt and Negri (2000) argued in Empire, this system has
become all-encompassing, flattening out the fragmented sovereign nation-
state system that pre-existed it, to create a fully-enclosed system to which
there is no exterior. According to Hardt and Negri, one cannot “opt out” of
the system because we are all firmly entrenched within that system.
The ubiquity of transnational capitalism raises particular challenges
for cultural production. How does one create culture that is critical and
politically progressive in today’s context? Or, in Gramsci’s terminology
(232–43), how can one engage in counter-hegemonic struggles when global

C 2012 Wiley Periodicals, Inc.
218 Kevin Dunn

capitalism’s hegemony seems to be so absolute? A “war of movement”—

attacking the system from the outside—is impossible because there is no
being “outside” of the system. A “war of position”—creating counter-
hegemonic beliefs and practices from within the system by using the tools
of the system—seems to offer some potential, but hegemonic practices of
appropriation and assimilation are constantly at play; increasingly so in
the irony-drenched postmodern consumerist culture of Western societies.
This is perhaps nowhere more evident than in pop culture, and pop music in
particular, as The Beatles’ “Revolution” is used to sell Nike shoes and soccer
star/multimillionaire David Beckham sports a Gaultier-designed t-shirt with
a diamond encrusted CRASS logo.
Though recent decades have witnessed the rise of neoliberal
economic policies that have heralded new heights for transnational corporate
capitalism, debates about how to effect political resistance through cultural
practices are not new. It is worth recalling that in 1934 Walter Benjamin
argued that a progressive cultural politics is not achieved through content,
but via position. That is, it is not what you say, but how you say it. For
Benjamin, a progressive cultural product was one that helped transform
consumers into producers, or “collaborators” (Benjamin 777). Benjamin
called upon his contemporaries to engage in just such a political enterprise.
This current article examines the social practices of today’s global do-it-
yourself (DIY) punk record community and argues that it represents an
attempt to realize Benjamin’s challenge to produce culture progressively
and collaboratively.
Most of the material for this article is based on personal interviews
conducted with over a hundred record labels across the globe.1 In his
cultural studies work on punk record labels, Alan O’Connor makes an
important distinction between commercial and DIY labels.2 Commercial
punk labels are companies that regularly achieve sales of 20,000–100,000
copies, often through distribution in chain records stores and big-box
establishments like Wal-Mart (O’Connor 35–36). To achieve this, they
usually work through major record distributors. In the United States, there
are four major “independent” distribution companies that are actually owned
by major record labels: Fontana (owned by Universal Music group), ADA
(owned by Warner Music Group), RED (owned by Sony BMG) and Caroline
(owned by EMI). Many of the commercial punk labels—Epitaph, Vagrant,
Sub Pop, Fat Wreck, Equal Vision, Victory, Trustkill, BYO, Fueled by
Ramen, Secretly Canadian, Bridge Nine, Mute—distribute through these
“indie” distribution companies. DIY record labels, on the other hand, tend
“If It Ain’t Cheap, It Ain’t Punk” 219

to have much smaller record sales and distribute either directly or through
actual independently owned and distribution companies (though that line
becomes harder to discern given recent shifts in the music industry, which
will be discussed later). One cannot adequately discuss DIY punk record
labels without reference to the “commercial punk labels” and “independent”
distribution companies. That said, most of my discussion concerns DIY punk
labels: record companies usually run by one individual or a small group of
individuals who achieve record sales far below that of the commercial punk
labels. Moreover, my focus is not limited to the United States, but reflects
the global DIY punk record label community.3

A Brief History of DIY Record Labels

Independent, DIY records labels predate the origins of punk, and
there is a long and respected tradition of small record labels in the music
industry. Sam Phillips’s Memphis-based Sun Records, after all, is generally
credited with helping invent rock’n’roll. But the arrival of punk signaled a
marked increase in the number of small, DIY record labels. In part, this was
due to changes in major record companies themselves. Before the emergence
of punk, British record companies began investing heavily in new recording
technologies, which meant that older studio equipment and studios suddenly
became available for independent music producers and companies to either
buy or rent at affordable costs (Laing 29–30). But punk’s DIY attitude also
encouraged many bands and enterprising entrepreneurs to venture into the
record industry. The Buzzcocks’ 1977 Spiral Scratch EP was released on
January 29, 1977, becoming the first homemade British record. Released
on the band’s own New Hormones label, it quickly sold all 1,000 copies of
its first pressing. The EP went on to sell 16,000 copies, largely through mail
order (Reynolds 92). For many punk musicians, the Spiral Scratch EP was
the most important of the original punk releases. Although the Sex Pistols,
with their “Anarchy in the UK” single (released the previous November
on EMI) showed that anyone could be in a band, the Buzzcocks showed
that anyone could release a record, with the details of the recording process
(e.g., number of takes and over-dubs) and pressing costs printed right on
the record sleeve. The influence of the EP was profound, not just on bands
and listeners, but on the recording industry itself. Bob Last claims that he
founded his Fast Product record label after picking up Spiral Scratch: “I had
absolutely no idea there had been a history of independent labels before that.
Spiral Scratch turned my head around” (quoted in Reynolds 94). Soon after,
220 Kevin Dunn

London’s punk band Desperate Bicycles formed Refill Records to release

their own single in May 1977. The sleeve contained a breakdown of the
recording costs (£153) as an inspiration to others to follow suit. As the band
chanted on the single: “It was easy, it was cheap—go and do it!” (Spencer
288–289). Many of the new punk labels began distributing their releases
through an organization of interdependent independent retailers known as
the “Cartel.” The Cartel was centered around the Rough Trade record store
in London, which connected with other stores across the United Kingdom
to form an independent record distribution service (Laing 30). Thus, punk
helped create a system of recording and distribution that was autonomous
within the music industry.
The increased popularity of punk as a genre, and thus as a musical
commodity, meant that the established record companies began to take
notice. For the major labels, punk offered a new market of youth consumption
from which they could turn a profit. Within a few months, major UK record
labels began signing a multitude of punk bands, or bands that they thought
might be profitable in the new “punk market” (Laing 32). This major record
label signing frenzy had a substantial impact on the UK punk scene. In
some ways, it helped commodify the punk scene, bringing, what was for
some, unwanted external attention to what had initially been a small scene
built upon personal connections. Now punk was a commercial product that
could be (and in many cases was) packaged and sold by major record labels.
Many bands could not resist the allure of a hefty paycheck or the promise
of reaching a larger audience. But the signing spree also played havoc on
the small record labels that had helped create and nurture nascent punk
scenes across the United Kingdom. The small independent labels simply
could not compete with the power, strength, and resources of the major
record companies. The result was the pilfering of some of their best, most
profitable talent by the major labels. For example, the Good Vibrations
record label, which was so instrumental to the development of the punk
scene in Belfast, lost four of its first six bands to the majors.
But many DIY record labels survive, continuing to release punk
music. As the commercialization of punk mutated into “new wave” and
the mainstream music industry moved on, looking for new youth fashions
to capitalize on, punk went underground and continued to be nurtured by
small DIY record labels. Indeed, the narrative of punk becomes global as
scenes develop across the globe, spawning even more small DIY record
labels. Chris Ashford, a clerk at a local Los Angeles record store, formed
What? Records and released the Germs’ single “Forming.” Greg Shaw
“If It Ain’t Cheap, It Ain’t Punk” 221

started Bomp! Records, spinning it off of the similarly named fanzine, while
Chris Desjardins, another fanzine writer, also began releasing records under
the name of his zine, Slash. In 1979, Bad Brains put out their debut single
(“Pay To Cum” b/w “Stay Close To Me”) on their own eponymous label. The
following year, their friends in the Teen Idles posthumously released an EP on
their newly founded Dischord Records. Because of their success and ethics,
Dischord would provide a template for punk DIY record labels, further
strengthening the position of small record labels within the US punk scene.
In the United States, these labels were instrumental in creating the
1980s indie music scene4 documented in such places as journalist/musician
Michael Azerrad’s Our Life Could Be Your Band, Steven Blush’s American
Hardcore, and Eric Davidson’s We Never Learn. One of the dominant
narratives concerns how this scene blew up with the run away popularity of
Nirvana following the 1991 release of Nevermind. In the wake of Nirvana’s
success, there was another major label signing frenzy, similar to the pilfering
that took place in the 1976–1978 UK punk scene. Again, major labels
were signing away the best-known bands from small record labels that had
released their previous work. One of the benefits for these small labels was
that, in some cases, major labels bought an act’s contract for a substantial fee,
providing the small labels with much-needed cash infusions. In other cases,
the label was able to make significant profit from holding onto a band’s back
catalog. Such was the case of Berkeley’s Lookout Records, after Green Day
signed to Reprise in 1994 and achieved mega-star status.5 Other labels were
catapulted into commercial success as their bands rode the wave to greater
popularity. Such was the case for LA’s Epitaph Records, which was started
by Bad Religion’s guitarist Brett Gurewitz in 1988. In 1994, three of the
label’s acts—the Offspring, NOFX and Rancid—had hit records (ironically,
Bad Religion had signed to Atlantic Records the year before), transforming
Epitaph into a moderate-sized commercial record label, with several sister
labels, including Hellcat Records, owned by Rancid’s Tim Armstrong.
The impact of the Nevermind-inspired explosion is often bemoaned
in American punk circles. Azerrad complained that, in the post-Nevermind
world, “Punk had winnowed its heritage down to a single inbred white
gene, working hairsplitting variations on a simple theme” (Azerrad 498).
Yet, this characterization is only true if one looks at the cookie-cutter punk
acts that continued to be marketed by major record labels. Azerrad laments
the death of DIY punk scenes, but only because he stops looking for them
after 1991. Just as DIY punk went underground post-1978, DIY punk in
the United States has continued to thrive under the radar since the media
222 Kevin Dunn

hype-machine and major record label spending splurges of the early 1990s.
Today, DIY punk cultures thrive on the existence of hundreds, if not
thousands, of DIY record labels across the globe.

Common Practices of DIY Punk Labels

The record industry is constantly in flux, with the business
terrain shifting and technological advances constantly altering seemingly
established practices. In the late 1970s, when punk first “broke,” there were
six major labels dominating the Euro-American market, and two major
formats: vinyl was preferred, but the cassette market was healthy as well.
As of 2012, four major labels have consolidated their hold on the Euro-
American market even as CD sales are rapidly being replaced by digital
downloads. In a few years it is likely that some of the labels quoted below
will probably be out of business, with new ones taking their place, and
music will likely be bought, and listened to, in different formats and on new
devices. However, in the DIY punk community, vinyl has persisted as a major
format, with several labels releasing exclusively on vinyl (e.g., Olympia’s
Rumbletowne), and many others releasing vinyl with digital downloads.6
In this section, I discuss the common practices among DIY punk
record labels. As the following discussion illustrates, there is a fair degree
of variation among labels. Clearly, there is no single way of doing things
for a DIY punk label—this is part of what distinguishes it as a mode
of production from corporate mass production. Yet, there are important
distinctions between DIY and major corporate labels in terms of business
practices, and my primary goal here is draw attention to these differences.
Major record labels have divisions called Artists and Repertoire
(A&R) dedicated to scouting out new talent. These divisions are tasked with
recruiting and overseeing the artistic development of newly signed artists,
which is generally understood by the labels as commercial marketability and
success. Most of the contact an artist will have the major label is conducted
through the A&R department. A&R representatives tend to be young,
and have connections with particular music scenes, either as musicians,
journalists, or record producers. They also tend to scout talent through word
of mouth. It is very rare that an artist is discovered by sending a demo to a
record label. Once a label’s A&R representative has identified an artist he or
she wishes to sign, the representative offers the artist an exclusive recording
contract, though the details of the contract are usually hammered out by
“If It Ain’t Cheap, It Ain’t Punk” 223

lawyers for both sides (Albini 11–13; Weissman 22–26). Depending on the
terms of the contract, the artists are contractually obligated to provide the
record label a set amount of material for release: perhaps just one album, but
usually several albums over a set amount of time. To assist with the recording
of that material, the label will normally provide the artists with a monetary
advance. That advance is often used to hire a producer (often determined by
the record label), book studio time, and perhaps purchase new equipment.
Once the artists finish recording, they submit their work to the record label
for approval. Often the A&R department will be involved in the recording
process itself, encouraging changes and making suggestions, usually with
the goal of producing at least one commercially viable single. Once the
record is finished and accepted by the record label, the art, promotion, and
marketing divisions become active in trying to generate consumer interest
in the record. Artists are usually expected to go on tour to help promote
the release, sometimes with financial assistance and support from the label.
As the record begins to sell (if it begins to sell), the record label maintains
control of sales revenue until its own costs have been recouped. These costs
generally include the artists’ advance, as well as production, processing, and
promotion costs. As Steve Albini observed in his 1993 essay “The Problem
with Music,” most bands signed to majors rarely see any profit and many
often find themselves in debt to their labels.
Contemporary DIY punk labels operate in substantially different
ways. First, there is usually a close personal connection between the DIY
label and the band. Often these labels are started by a musician to release
his or her band’s own music. Mike Park, who founded Dill Records in 1989
(which mutated into Asian Man Records in 1996), speaks for a number
of label owners when he says, “I was in a band [Skankin’ Pickle] and
we just put out our own records. I wasn’t looking to start a label, it just
kind of happened” (Park). Likewise, Andy Instigate of the Swedish label
Instigate Records claimed he “couldn’t think of anyone willing to release
my crappy bands (and I still don’t) so the only option was to do it myself”
(Instigate). Many other DIY labels have emerged because individuals wanted
to become more active participants in their scene, releasing music made by
their friends. For example, Alex DiMatessa of Grave Mistake (and bassist
for Government Warning) said his “main motivation was to put out records
for bands from my area (at the time Maryland and DC) that I was either
friends with or just thought were good bands that should have something on
record” (DiMatessa). For someone like Michal Halabura of Poland’s Nickt
224 Kevin Dunn

Nic Nie Wie (NNNW) label, founded in the 1980s under communism, there
weren’t many options other than DIY:

There were really few chances for bands in 1980s to release their
own records. Apart from the censorship, it required “connections” of
sorts. So, some small cassette labels erupted—not necessarily punk,
but working in this DIY and—of course—illegal way. As there was
a band connected to our crew—Ulica—and we were in touch with
a lot of people by that time, we decided to try “doing it ourselves.”
(Halabura)

The majority of DIY record labels I have spoken which deal almost
exclusively with bands they know personally. This logic is clarified by Locust
frontman Justin Pearson of Three. One. G. Records: “Obviously we have to
like the band or artist first off. But we also factor in things like our personal
relationship with the musicians. Typically we lose money on releases, so if
we are going to put time, energy, and money into something, we want to
know exactly who we are putting effort into” (Pearson). Larger commercial
punk labels may have personal connections with the bands they sign, but
often they work solely with bands that have gotten increased attention while
being on smaller DIY labels.
Given that today most bands have the ability to release their own
material digitally, the primary purpose of a record label is to cover the
production, advertising, and distribution costs that might be beyond the
means of the band. Still, the DIY record label has another vital role:
community building. The respected DIY punk labels tend to be those that,
regardless of size, treat their bands and other labels well by fostering a sense
of community. Renae Bryant of On The Rag Records also plays with the
band All Or Nothing HC and she argues that, from a band’s perspective, “the
only reason to be on a record label is to be a part of a community of other
bands you admire and agree with their ideas. Being on a record label, in the
punk world, is like being a part of another family” (Bryant).
For some labels, community building is a central aspect of their
mission. A label like Dischord, for example, states that its goal is to help
document the Washington, DC scene, so almost all of its releases are from
DC-based bands. Likewise, Knw-yr-own Records only releases music by
artists based in and around Anacortes, WA. In contrast, some labels are
less interested in location and more interested in releasing subgenres of
“If It Ain’t Cheap, It Ain’t Punk” 225

punk, such as ska, grindcore, or pop punk. Other labels deal exclusively
with bands with shared political commitments. For example, J-Lemonade,
who runs the Polish label Emancypunx, said that in order for her to work
with a band, “it has to have women or queers involved. It has to be a non-
commercial, DIY, feminist band” (J-Lemonade). Likewise, Robert Voogt of
Commitment Records said, “Commitment Records was started to promote
the positive straight edge, so I want all bands that I release on the label to
stand behind that idea too” (Voogt). Other labels are more pluralistic about
who they are willing to work with. The New Orleans-based label Community
Records, for example, is seriously dedicated to both the New Orleans scene
and ska-punk, but has signed bands from outside the region and the genre.
But more often than not, regardless of location or genre, there are usually
personal connections between labels and their bands.
Another critical distinction in practices between major labels and
DIY labels is the use (or nonuse) of contracts. As noted earlier, one of the
primary characteristics of the relationship between artists and major labels
is the contract. The details of each contract tend to be different, reflecting the
negotiations that took place between the band and the label’s lawyers. But in
general, major contracts stipulate that the artist is in an exclusive relationship
with the major record label for a given amount of time or number of releases.
The larger commercial punk labels often use contracts, but in most cases, it is
more to spell out expectations and rights than for constructing a long-term
obligatory relationship with the artists. For example, Fat Wreck Chords
(owned by NOFX frontman Fat Mike and then-wife Erin Burkett) uses
contracts with artists, but they are on a release-by-release basis. Bands are
free to leave the label whenever they choose.
In most of my interviews with DIY punk label owners/operators,
nothing seemed to inspire a stronger response than the issue of using
contracts. The overwhelming majority of DIY punk labels I spoke to eschew
the use of contracts. Chris Mason (of the band Shang-A-Lang) at Dirt Cult
Records said, “I don’t use contracts. It’s generally a verbal agreement and
a handshake. I don’t generally generate enough money to worry about such
things” (Mason). When asked about contracts, Dan Emery of Anti-Corp (and
formerly of the hardcore band Sanctions) responded “Absolutely not. Never
will. If somebody wants to take their release elsewhere when the pressing
runs out, or release something on another label, it is fully endorsed” (Emery).
Todd Congelliere of Recess Records (as well as the bands FYP and Toys
That Kill) said, “If something happens where a band doesn’t feel right about
226 Kevin Dunn

keeping a record with me, then I don’t wanna do it” (Congelliere). Kent
McClard of Ebullition added: “Contracts only have value if you intend to
hire attorneys and sue people in court. I have never taken anyone to court,
and I have never been taken to court. I have no intention of taking bands
to court” (McClard). Derek Hogue of G7 Welcoming Committee Records
pointed out, “Generally, it seems unnecessary to us. Even if a band screws
us over, how are we ever going to enforce a contract? We wouldn’t even
know how” (Hogue).
Some of the people I spoke to believe there is no place for contracts
in punk, including J-Lemonade of Emancypunx. “Cooperation in the DIY
network should be based on trust. It’s not a business” (J-Lemonade). Ryan
Cappelletti of Punks Before Profits added, “I just think a handshake and
a smile is fine. I don’t care about being ripped off. I just hope they don’t
do it. I mean, punk to me has always been the anti-business movement.
Money and contracts destroy everything” (Cappelletti). In that same vein,
Will Rutherford at Penguin Suit Records (and the band Acts of Sedition)
said, “if I can’t have a handshake deal and make it stick, they’re not actually
my friend and I’d rather not release it” (Rutherford).
However, a few labels, such as Basement Records, do use contracts.
As owner Chuck Dietrich explained, “I didn’t when I first started. There
was still a sense of trust and companionship amongst bands, but nowadays
people sue for cutting in line at McDonald’s. So I do it, but I’m proud to
say I have never had to use or execute a single contract for anything, which
probably amounts to over 1,000 contracts I’ve done” (Dietrich). Despite
many labels’ aversions to contracts, it is clear that some do take the time
to spell out specific expectations to which the band and the label must
agree. Todd Taylor, at Razorcake Records and editor of the punk magazine
Razorcake, offered the following observation:

I understand many punks’ aversion to business. I wholeheartedly

recommend you never sign a contract that’s drafted by a large
corporation because they have lawyers to void that shit and put
you over a barrel. But, if all you want to be is on the same page with
people on your level—let’s be honest, many of us drink, forget, have
other things on our minds—two or three pages of simple language
can ease a lot of future anxiety. (Taylor, interview)

This is a similar position held by Jerry Dirr at Phratry Records (and

of the bands Knife the Sympathy and Autumn Rising):
“If It Ain’t Cheap, It Ain’t Punk” 227

I started typing out the agreements that we’d previously discussed in

person, or over the phone, and I’d give copies to each band member.
These written agreements are meant to serve as a reference tool that
we can revisit down the line, if need be, after the verbal agreement
is put into motion. If anyone ever has a question about splitting
royalties, etc. it’s there on paper. I never ask for anyone’s signature,
but it’s a backup in case anyone forgets any of the aspects of our
verbal agreement. (Dirr)

What are the general details of these arrangements? Although there

is some variation among labels, there is also a general trend. A band’s work is
always privileged and protected, in the sense that they retain control over the
masters and rights to the music. Labels tend to give the bands a percentage
of the pressings, usually between 15% and 20%, but occasionally as high
as 50%. The band can do whatever they want with those copies, but they
usually sell them while on tour. If the band wants more, the label will provide
them at wholesale or cheaper. If there is a second pressing, the band gets
another percentage of the copies or the cash equivalent.
The general opinion of most of the DIY label owners I interviewed
is that the relationship between themselves and the artist is a personal
agreement based on mutual respect and a code of conduct (“Don’t fuck me,
I won’t fuck you”). This is a significantly different way of doing business
from the major labels, primarily because it does not accept the terms of a
relationship defined by a corporate model. In the corporate model, the talent
is regarded as something akin to employees that work solely to generate
profit for the label. The talent is expendable. More often than not, the music
is less significant than the marketing and promotional machinery that helps
construct market desire for the product (Albini 11–13).
The DIY labels I surveyed characterized the relationship between
label and artists as more collaborative and mutually beneficial. These labels
argue that because they tend to be friends, artists also tend to be treated
with greater respect and autonomy. This does not mean that frictions and
outright hostilities do not emerge. Anti-Flag started their own label, A-F
Records, after frustrations over the release of their debut album with New
Red Archives. As drummer and founder Pat Thetic notes, “We released
a record with a record company that fucked us over, and we were like
‘Screw this, we can do it ourselves’” (Thetic). Most people in the scene have
stories about a band or label screwing the other over. In fact, this communal
knowledge about the ethos of certain bands and labels is an important feature
228 Kevin Dunn

of maintaining a general honesty in the DIY punk community. If a label gets

a reputation for screwing artists over, other bands are less likely to work
with that label. Given the enormous number of DIY labels, as opposed to
the major record labels’ oligopoly, indie bands have many options. Likewise,
DIY labels tend to be averse to working with bands that have a troubling
reputation. In this way, the DIY music scene self-polices and requires no
contract to do so.
Many bands actually use multiple record labels. They may release a
7-inch on one record label, a split EP on another, and their full-length LP
on yet another. Their reasons for doing so generally relate to their desire to
help out friends at different labels, as well as sharing the cost of releases.
Bands with significant international audiences will often use different DIY
labels in different countries to release their music in order to broaden the
distribution networks.
The issue of distribution is perhaps the primary reason why many
bands today choose to work with an established record label instead of
starting their own label. Corporate record labels have vast distribution
networks, ensuring that releases get into record stores around the globe,
particularly into big-box stores that are currently among the primary
purchasing points for music. In 2008, Wal-Mart, Best Buy, and Target were
the number two, three, and four top music retailers in the United States,
respectively; iTunes was number one (Tanner and Hillis). The ability to
access these markets is a major distinction between commercial punk labels
and DIY punk labels.
Distribution companies basically serve as a middleman between
individual record labels and retailers. Record labels will send the distribution
companies copies of their releases, usually to be housed in a central
warehouse. The distribution companies then sell these releases to a wide
variety of retailers. They could be anyone from the big-box stores, like
Wal-Mart or Best Buy, to record store chains, to independent records
stores, to “one-stops,”7 and even to individuals selling records out of their
apartments or at shows. The distribution company helps market the release
to sellers, takes orders from the buyer, houses, and ships out merchandise,
and collects payment. It then turns around and sends the labels their money,
minus a distribution fee (usually around 15–20%) that is taken off the top.
Commercial punk labels such as Epitaph, Vagrant, and Sub Pop
often distribute through major distribution companies to get into chain
records stores and big-box stores like Wal-Mart (O’Connor 35–36). In the
United States, there are four major “independent” distribution companies
“If It Ain’t Cheap, It Ain’t Punk” 229

that are actually owned by major record labels: Fontana (owned by Universal
Music group), ADA (owned by Warner Music Group), RED (owned by
Sony BMG), and Caroline (owned by EMI). This creates a gray area in
conversations about punk record labels. A punk label like Epitaph may
pride itself on being independently owned and operated, yet they have a
distribution deal with Alternative Distribution Alliance (ADA), which is
owned primarily by the Warner Music Group (Warner currently owns 95%
of ADA, with Sub Pop owning the remaining 5%). Given that distribution
is the primary purpose of a record label, it can therefore be problematic to
regard Epitaph (or other labels in similar situations) as truly “independent.”
Often the connections are complicated and hard to see at first. For example,
Dischord Records and Crass Records currently use Chicago Independent as
their primary distributor. Chicago Independent in turn distributes through
Fontana, which is owned by Universal.
DIY punk labels generally do not operate on the same scale as
commercial punk labels and, therefore, do not have direct access to these
large distribution companies. Instead, they have several options available
to them. At one level, there are several “true” independent distribution
companies, such as Ebullition, Redeye, Independent Label Collective,
Revelation (aka RevHQ), No Idea, and, once upon a time until its spectacular
2009 collapse, Lumberjack Mordam (see Razorcake #53 and #54). Although
making money is clearly important to these companies, most independent
DIY distribution companies seem to operate less as profit-maximizing
entities and more as community-builders. There are, of course, exceptions.
Redeye prides itself with operating much like the larger, corporate-owned
distribution companies. As co-owner Glenn Dicker stated, “We try to have
the same business practices [as the majors] for the most part, but we are just
a whole lot smaller” (Dicker). In contrast, there is a marked noncorporate
ethos in the way the ILC seems to conduct itself. When they add labels, they
are looking more for a good fit, than for profitability. Personal connections
matter too. When discussing why it is important to stay independent, Dan
Phillips (who worked for Lumberjack Mordam and then cofounded the ILC
in 2009) responds: “A lot of people in the scene can relate to that. People
want to support that. We want to support that in the scene. We’re in it for the
music. We all own our own labels, we know how important it is and good it
feels to be independent and DIY.” Phillips continued:

Profit-maximization is not the driving motivation. Of course we’ve

gotta meet the overhead and meet the operating costs. But we can
230 Kevin Dunn

do that while still being honest and true to the labels and customers.
We want to keep making money but the bottom line is supporting
the independent music scene . . . . We’re trying to help the scene and
people in the scene stay in business. Doing that means getting their
stuff out there. Our goal is to keep operating and keep everyone
around, to help everyone survive in the music business. (Phillips)

ILC and Redeye, along with Ebullition, Revelation, and No Idea,

represent important distribution networks for small DIY record labels.
Distribution companies basically serve as a middleman between individual
record labels and retailers. They do the legwork of getting a label’s releases
out into the world. Sometimes they will just order a handful of copies of a
new release, other times they may order almost half of the pressing if they
think it is a likely seller. In most cases, these “truly independent” distros are
small affairs. California’s Ebullition is basically a one-person operation run
by Kent McClard. Florida’s No Idea has a slightly larger staff, but it is still
an intimate affair. In both cases, the distribution company developed from a
DIY punk label. “I had been doing a zine and a record label and if I wanted
to get those things out to the world then I had to do the distribution myself,”
McClard said. “After a few years, it was apparent that the distribution was
larger than the label” (McClard).
Most DIY punk labels are small affairs and their distribution tends
to be very direct. They sell their releases at shows, and perhaps at a few
local indie record stores. Ryan Cappelletti of the label Punks Before Profits
and vocalist for Positive Noise is a good example: “I just trade records with
people and then I just bring some boxes to shows. That’s my favorite part
about punk: some kid with some boxes of records at a show. I got most of my
records that way” (Cappelletti). Indeed, one of the most important ways that
the DIY punk labels I spoke to distribute their releases is by trading with
other small DIY labels. Swapping releases is a time-honored tradition in the
DIY community and it allows labels to increase their own offerings and to
get their releases out to more people. Dan Emery of Anti-Corp said, “We
get everything in the distro off of trades with other labels, mainly because
it makes distribution work for both parties, but the financial aspect of being
able to barter is also pretty cool” (Emery).
Trading between labels is especially common for labels in different
countries. Michal of the Polish NNNW label said, “We see a DIY network
as our natural ecosystem, so we try to use these channels mainly . . . . Mail
“If It Ain’t Cheap, It Ain’t Punk” 231

order, auctions, trades—that’s the reality of labels like ours. We’ve had
problems with the biggest chain store in Poland, but we sued them and won
the case. Up the punx!” (Halabura). Jordan Atkins of Residue Records noted
the importance of trading with overseas labels when he observed, “It can
take a while to see the results of trades, but it is the best way to get records
overseas and to places that are hard to get people to pay a more expensive
wholesale” (Atkins).
A number of DIY labels also distribute physical CDs and vinyl
through online stores. Amazon is the obvious behemoth in the online market,
but few DIY labels I spoke to deal with it, usually because of principle, and
the hefty fee they extract from each transaction. Instead, many labels use
a handful of independent one-stop stores like Interpunk, PunknJunk, and
RevHQ. These one-stops tend to accept copies of releases on consignment
(the number varies on expectations of sales, but they will usually take a
few of an unknown release) and offer them in their online stores for a
fairly minimal mark-up. Some labels prefer not to work on consignment
because it is often hard to ensure that you will get paid what you are owed.
But a number of labels expressed positive experiences working with these
independent online distros, which have largely replaced the pre-Internet mail
order system.
Perhaps the biggest challenge mentioned by most label owners was
simply having the time to dedicate to the label. Part of the time required
to run a label is spent on marketing and self-promotion, things that many
in DIY punk scenes find distasteful. One concern I expected to hear more
about in interviews was the challenge to financially sustain the label, but
I was surprised at how rarely that issue came up. Very few labels are
actually making a profit (e.g., Asian Man, Basement, Big Action, Collision
Course, Dirtnap, and Livid Records) while many are just breaking even (e.g.,
Eradicator, G7 Welcoming Committee, Razorcake Records, and Warbird
Entertainment). But many DIY punk labels lose money regularly. There is
a simple reason for that: their business model is not one defined by profit-
maximization. In the simplest terms, they are intentionally bad capitalists.
But according to many of those I spoke to, that is often the point. In
some ways, the DIY record industry can be seen as an alternative model
to the world of the corporate music industry. DIY punk labels tend to
invest in bands they like, not the ones that they think are going to make
them rich. They tend to price their releases so that people can afford them,
rather than worrying about increasing the profit margin. As Chris Clavin’s
232 Kevin Dunn

Plan-It X Records proclaimed: “If it ain’t cheap, it ain’t punk.” At the core
of this business model is a dedication to a DIY approach to self-sufficiency
that stresses a love for what you do, grounded in a sense of support for a
community or scene. And this brings me back to a discussion of Walter
Benjamin.

Staying Punk or Selling Out? Why Benjamin Matters

A great deal of energy is spent in homemade zines, in letters to
Maximumrocknroll, on Internet chatboards, and in curbside conversations
about whether punk bands that sign to a major record label are “selling out.”
For many, the situation is framed as “us-versus-them.” As Ruth Schwartz,
then the head of Mordam Records, asserted in a 1996 interview: “What
independent music is about, is anger against major labels and the music
business [on] all levels . . . . I think my job is to be a part of the support
system for artists to freely express themselves and to express an alternative
point of view that they are not necessarily going to be able to express through
a big major multimedia corporation in this country—either orally or aurally”
(quoted in Sinker 115–116). From this perspective, signing to a major label
is a rejection of the punk ethos, DIY punk scenes, and all that they stand for.
But while many bands certainly sign to major labels in hopes of
financial benefit, many justify their move on the grounds that they are
increasing the political effectiveness of their message by reaching a larger
audience. If a small DIY label only presses 300 copies of a band’s 7-inch,
their ability to get their message out is greatly limited. Thus, for these artists
the answer to the opening question of how one creates culture that is critical
and politically progressive in today’s context of global capitalism is to use
the tools of the system, that is, sign to a major corporate record label. For
example, the anarchist musical collective Chumbawamba scored a major
commercial hit after signing to EMI in Europe and Universal in the United
States. Defending his band’s decision to sign with the majors, lead singer
Boff argued;

We know what we are doing. It is not as if we are naı̈ve. We understand

the relationship between band and label. We are trying to use them
to sell whatever message we have and the music we make, and they
use that to make a profit. That’s fine and we accept that. If they are
good at getting our records widely distributed, we acknowledge their
“If It Ain’t Cheap, It Ain’t Punk” 233

role. If I thought we could do that on our own record label and have
complete control, we would, but we can’t. (quoted in Sinker 128)

Likewise, the American punk band Anti-Flag signed to RCA (owned

by Sony BMG) in 2005, which caused a great deal of controversy and
charges of selling out. Defending the decision, drummer and founder Pat
Thetic argued: “You have to use that [global capitalist] system. Obviously
it’s cliché but you have to at least be able to have a voice to say this is fucked
up, rather than to have no voice and scream in the wilderness and nobody
hears you” (Thetic).
Yet history has often shown that such bands become disillusioned
by the promise of amplifying their political effectiveness via a major
record label, as was the case with Anti-Flag, who eventually left RCA
and are currently on Side One Dummy Records. As cultural studies scholar
Lawrence Grossberg has wryly noted, the history of rock and roll is one
of continual cooptation in which “rock and roll constantly protests against
its own cooptation” (252). Potential reasons why can be found in Walter
Benjamin’s 1934 essay “The Author as Producer,” in which he explores
how poets (and other artists) can create politically progressive works of art
in capitalist systems. He begins this essay by questioning the relationship
between form and content, and argues that artists need to insert themselves
“into the living social context” (Benjamin 765). For Benjamin, what the artist
says is less important than the “technique” of the work. His argument that
content is less important than technique draws attention to why punk bands
signing to major labels are deluding themselves about their ability to use the
system. Ultimately, Benjamin suggests, it is the system that uses them. As
Benjamin noted almost eighty years ago, the mainstream will “assimilate
astonishing quantities of revolutionary themes, indeed, can propagate them
without calling its own existence . . . seriously into question” (774). Thus,
focusing solely, or even primarily, on the content of an artistic message
fundamentally misses the point. Cultural studies scholar Ryan Moore, for
example, may long for a clearly articulated political vision within punk,
but the content of lyrics, despite how progressive or revolutionary they
may seem, are largely irrelevant. By considering contemporary modes
of production and distribution in the music industry as “technique” in
Benjamin’s terms, it becomes clear that the primary result of a punk band
on a major record label is the further enrichment of the major label and
the larger economy in which it operates, regardless of whether a band is
234 Kevin Dunn

singing about the crappiness of multinational corporations. Or, as Taylor put

it: “And every artist from Hole to Rage Against The Machine who said they
were going to bring the machine down from the inside? They lied or were
delusional. The machine has paid them well and they’ve since shut their
fuckin’ mouths about toppling the industry” (Taylor, Razorcake 39).
If raging against the machine from the inside is a fruitless endeavor,
then how might progressive cultural production be realized? Again,
Benjamin is instructive here, as he points to the importance of “technique,”
understood as the artist’s “position in the process of production,” and
makes the critical distinction between an “informing writer” (one who
merely proselytizes) and the more effective “operating writer,” who employs
an interventionist cultural mode. This is similar to sociologist Stephen
Duncombe’s observation that DIY zine makers engage in “propaganda of the
deed” (76). It is worth quoting Benjamin fully on this point: “What matters,
therefore, is the exemplary character of production, which is able, first, to
induce other producers to produce, and, second, to put an improved apparatus
at their disposal. And this apparatus is better, the more consumers it is able
to turn into producers—that is, readers or spectators into collaborators”
(Benjamin 777). This observation is at the crux of why DIY labels are
politically important. Because a progressive cultural politics is not achieved
through content but via position, being DIY and independent is far more
effective than talking about being DIY and independent. It is a form of
cultural production that can turn passive consumers into producers in their
own right.
As the interviews presented in this article have repeatedly illustrated,
DIY punk record labels have created a global network of collaborators.
Through their activities, they continue to inspire others to produce while
providing a powerful apparatus: the informal yet vibrant global DIY punk
network outside the direct control of the corporate music industry. Although
today’s capitalist system can easily appropriate and assimilate messages
and symbols, it is far more difficult to appropriate the ethos that is at
the heart of DIY punk culture, as Anne Elizabeth Moore’s recent work
Unmarketable (2007) effectively illustrates. Benjamin’s astute analysis of
cultural production underscores that, in the end, the practices of the DIY
punk record community are far more progressive, rebellious and threatening
to the status quo than a major label band singing about the evils of capitalism
while wearing a leather jacket with a big circle-A on the back. The medium
is the message, and so is the system that delivers it, thus the importance of
DIY as lived practice within today’s music industry.
“If It Ain’t Cheap, It Ain’t Punk” 235

Notes
1. Some of the material and quotes in this article, particularly certain
interview quotes, appeared in my article “How to Start Your Own DIY Record
Label”,” Razorcake #60, January 2011. Thanks to Todd Taylor for being Todd
Taylor.
2. Alan O’Connor’s Punk Record Labels and the Struggle for Autonomy
(2008) is certainly the most comprehensive work on DIY punk labels to date. I
have a few critiques of the work (e.g., his myopic employment of a Bourdieu-ian
framework limits his analysis; his narrative of DIY punk is almost exclusively a
Maximumrocknroll-themed narrative; he doesn’t offer significant reflection of the
social and political implications of the DIY punk scene). He will no doubt have
criticisms of this article.
3. The people who run DIY punk labels are people from all walks of life
(O’Connor). There is no given age frame for DIY punk label owners. The people
I have interviewed have been in their teens, twenties, thirties, forties, and fifties.
They include young kids in high school, recent college graduates, regular folks
working regular jobs, and a few who have made their label successful enough to
avoid having to work for someone else. They come from a wide range of educational
backgrounds. Some are high school dropouts, some graduated from college, and
a few have postgraduate degrees. They also come from all socioeconomic classes,
with most coming from working or middle class backgrounds. In North America,
most of the people running DIY punk labels are white, but not exclusively. The
most common characteristic is that most are male. Still, there are a number of
significant female record label owners—Lisa Fancher at Frontier, Renae Bryant
at On the Rag, Jennifer co-owner of No Idea, Ruth Schartz formerly of Mordam
before the Lumberjack buyout, and Heather at RealPunkRadio the Label—but
these are definitely in a minority.
4. Although I recognize that there were (and continue to be) plural music
scenes, for this article I treat them as a singular music scene because of shared
distribution/production/exhibition practices.
5. Lookout later encountered serious financial problems and many of its
bands sued for breach of contract, seeking to reclaim the masters of their recordings
after Lookout failed to adequately compensate them. When Green Day successfully
rescinded their masters in 2005, Lookout was effectively crippled, laying off staff
and halting all new releases.
6. At the time of writing, there has also been a revival of the cassette tape.
7. One-stops are basically other major distribution companies that of-
fer a wider range of products than just music, such as DVDs, clothing,
and other merchandise. The big independent one-stops are currently Super-D
236 Kevin Dunn

(employee-owned and based out of Irvine, CA), RevHQ, Edge (family-owned

and based in Cleveland, OH), and Cargo in the UK.

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