by Andy Langer
Edie
Brickell always
seemed harmless enough. What she and the New Bohemians may have lacked in soul,
they seemed to make up for with charm. But since Shooting Rubber Bands at
the Stars shot up and down the charts in 1988, Dallas’ music scene has
found nothing charming about living in the shadows of Ms. Brickell & Co.’s
high-profile failure. It wasn’t the first time, and certainly won’t be the
last, that bad management, na�vet�, and the sophomore jinx cut a
band’s future down at the knees. But if you believe Dallas radio veteran
Redbeard, who helped start the New Bohemians phenomenon at his heritage AOR
powerhouse Q-102, Brickell’s case was pivotal not only because it failed to
usher in the major-label signing frenzy for Dallas/Denton/Fort Worth acts that
many had hoped for, but also because it left an otherwise vibrant scene
stillborn.
“It was viewed industry-wide as a big money-wasting, high-profile grabbing,
highly frustrating debacle,” says Redbeard. “So ultimately, her success and
quick demise set the scene back five or six years. And I believe we’ve only
just come out of it in the last 18 months.” And while Dallas’ music scene
hasn’t yet produced a Hootie-sized hit capable of overshadowing its reputation
for self-titled prime-time soaps, the Cowboys, and a certain book depository,
its reputation for respectably selling, major-label music has indeed received a
dramatic facelift over the last 18 months. The recent album sales figures and
road and radio success of “Big D” bands such as the Toadies, Deep Blue
Something, Tripping Daisy, Hagfish, Jackopierce, the Nixons, and Brutal Juice
are just now beginning to point to something much bigger than a scene; they
point to a market where the right mix of live play, sly management, initially
independent records, and airplay is combining for statistics that major-label
A&R representatives can no longer overlook. Interscope A&R-man Ray
Santamaria, who signed both the Toadies and Brutal Juice, says Dallas is now a
place where “you don’t have to ask what they’ve produced, remember Edie
Brickell, and wonder why you’re flying in and see some band.”
Ironically enough, those flights have, over the last few years, more often
than not, wound up in Austin, as A&R reps were content to catch Dallas
bands at their SXSW showcases. Still, Dallas’ sneaky turnaround may actually be
a valuable learning tool for the scene Dallasites have long stood in the
shadows of and closely watched for cues: Austin’s. With major-label and
“big-indie” debuts due from Magneto USA, Storyville, Prescott Curlywolf, Hamell
on Trial, Spoon, Alejandro Escovedo, and perhaps the Ugly Americans, as well as
pivotal follow-ups from Sincola and Chris Duarte, 1996 could finally be the
year the fabled Dallas-Austin rivalry actually comes to a head.
Surprisingly though, most artists, radio programmers, managers, and record
company executives from both Austin and Dallas interviewed for this story
contend they were already curious about the other city not because of the
inherent competition, but rather because they thought the slew of signings
might just hold the insider trading tip necessary for a leg up, not just for
themselves or their own hometown, but for Texas as a whole. A united Texas
music industry? Not quite. But certainly there are lessons to be learned by
examining 1995 from both sides of the Dallas/Austin fence.
Even Cowboys go to Training Camp Well, before Dallas had its “Big 7” major-label acts — or its three latest
signees: Vibrolux (Atlas/Polydor), Tablet (Mercury), and Ugly Mustard
(Relativity) — the scene had already begun its reconstruction. By 1993, Dallas
had entered into a phase of dramatic resurgence in both the number of live
music venues and local indie releases. As such, of the 10 acts currently signed
to major labels, all had released at least one independent record, and at the
minimum had developed reasonably impressive draws both at home and on selective
regional touring circuits. And while these facts in themselves don’t differ
greatly from any major music market’s textbook groundwork, it’s how Dallas
artists were able to transfer local success to national interest that’s become
the city’s real story.
“What I’ve found in Dallas are bands that have built up local followings, made
records, toured and received airplay virtually on their own,” says Interscope’s
Santamaria. “For myself, what matters is the music and then that the band
doesn’t care about pinning all their hopes on me as the A&R guy or the
label as a sales vehicle. I’m looking for bands that are still going to be
bands if I dropped them tomorrow. It’s not so much about do-it-yourself in the
old punk way, but do-it-yourself in the practical way that they’ll always have
a fan base and reason to keep on playing, even if a major-label deal is a
disaster. Bands should want a deal because it gives them reach to continue to
do what they do as a band, not because they’re focused on immediate MTV or
radio play. When I get really nice demos from bands that have never played a
live show, I’m immediately suspicious. When I hear a band like Brutal Juice had
been touring a year before I’d heard of them, I become immediately more
interested.”
In fact, one of the primary keys to Dallas’ success appears to be how
centralized many of the artists have kept their business affairs. With in-house
management, booking, and record-release capabilities, most of the now
major-label artists were able to play, tour, and release local records
simultaneously, with each end feeding the success of another. Insiders point to
the local management and booking team of Mike Swinford and Paul Nugent (214
Entertainment) as proof that in-house operations can be both profitable and
safe. Nugent and Swinford’s label operation, RainMaker Records, initially
released Deep Blue Something’s Home, keeping the three sides of their
business in-house while also reaping the benefits of initial independent local
record sales and the payday of selling the record to Interscope for a major
re-release. Swinford and Nugent, who also book and manage the Nixons (MCA) and
new Dallas radio favorites Adam’s Farm and Quickserve Johnny, say their
business grew into a label when giving away the fruits of successful touring
didn’t seem to make sense. “I wish I could say it was all a plan from day one,
but when we found our acts doing well at home and on the road, the label thing
grew out of necessity,” says Nugent. “We thought, `Why give this to somebody
else?'”
Nugent and Company are the latest talk of Dallas, mostly because the
Interscope re-release of Home is expected to be declared Gold (sales of
500,000) this week on the strength of its first and only single thus far, the
infectious “Breakfast at Tiffany’s.” Harmless and passionless, Deep Blue
Something may indeed be Dallas’ answer to Hootie & the Blowfish. Already,
the backlash has begun, with the influential radio-trade publication
Hits offering up the uncharacteristically negative question of whether
Deep Blue Something’s success “was about a song or an artist.” Dallas
Observer music critic Robert Wilonsky doesn’t seem to care, concluding in
his own year-end column that “Deep Blue Something is terrible no matter how
popular they become.” So how does terrible music, which is, granted, terribly
catchy, make for great business?
“RainMaker put us on a farm team approach and it paid off,” says Deep Blue’s
Todd Pipes. “By booking and managing us, they put us at a level regionally that
when it came time to make a record we could go in with confidence and the
luxury of knowing it would be at least well received for our small level. And
by releasing it ourselves, without the interference of a major label, we were
able to spend a tenth of what a major-label record might cost while maintaining
the quality, and still having money left over we could combine with the profits
to apply back into the other aspects of career, like additional touring.”
When Dallas acts do give their independent records to someone else it’s
usually to an in-house operation of a different sort, like Crystal Clear Sound.
With a hand in almost everything but management and booking, the Dallas-based
Crystal Clear owns and operates a recording studio, mastering facility,
cassette duplication plant, and distribution system for regional artists.
Typically, Crystal Clear sells its services outright, although they also may
enter into agreements with local bands where production costs are recouped on a
licensing agreement that gives Crystal Clear the rights to the records for up
to five years.
And the local advantage of Crystal Clear? Paulos does so much business — an
astonishing one million CDs and one million cassettes a year — that his
manufacturing costs are possibly the best in Texas, giving young, unsigned
bands the potential for quality, releasable product to be ultimately
distributed by Crystal Clear’s distribution arm, which has connections in
high-volume markets like BlockBuster Music, Hastings, and Best Buy. Upping the
ante even further, ’95 marked the start-up of Paulos’ own label imprint, Steve,
for Dallas artists like 66 and Funland — bands he wants to develop without the
confusion of the Crystal Clear co-op deals. So for a band like Funland — which
lost a major-label deal with Arista early last year and are now looking to
rebuild locally — or more often, for a new artist, Crystal Clear potentially
offers something valuable to show the labels; product and sales figures.
“If there’s any real trend in the industry, it’s that the majors are looking
more and more at independent sales figures,” says Paulos. “Recording has become
so affordable that there is no excuse for not having something to sell. And
then, what the majors want to know is how it sold.”
Heard It on the X Traditionally, the best avenue for spurring album sales and creating yet
another statistic to show to interested major labels is airplay. And radio has
meant so much to Dallas’ rise that even under the facade of an “everybody wins”
smile, three radio stations (KEGL, KDGE, and Q102) have been involved in public
pissing matches over who “made” the Toadies, Deep Blue Something, and Tripping
Daisy. And with radio being the competitive business that it is, and the
inherent risk of losing listeners by sandwiching an unknown local between U2
and Pearl Jam tracks, it’s come as somewhat of a surprise that Dallas radio
would play Dallas music at all, let alone in heavy rotations. And to fight
about who did it first? Nobody, including Redbeard, ever thought it would come
to that.
“Radio’s played an important and exciting role in Dallas’ success,” says
Redbeard. “but to fight about it and thump your chests about making a band
doesn’t help anyone. We don’t write the songs, sing ’em, give them places to
play, front money, develop careers, or move back in with our parents, we just
make space for them on a playlist because we believe if the song’s good enough
to stand up to the rest of the playlist, listeners will embrace it. The arguing
is too bad because we proved local music on local radio can be a win-win for
everybody. The CDs sell, the concerts sell out, and we’ve seen the ratings go
up.”
Sony A&R representative Teresa La Barbara-White, who’s based in Dallas,
also zeroes in on local radio play. “Deep Blue Something had a bona fide pop
hit that management, radio, and eventually Interscope knew could crossover to
alternative markets as well,” she says. “Their set-up was well organized and
part of that was making a record cheaply and independently, and having money
left over to bolster promotion and tour. This shows that independent radio
promotion is a great way to use that money and parlay it into sales and a deal,
but after, however, many SXSW panels on the subject, people generally still
don’t get that spending all your money on a CD and leaving nothing left over to
promote it is a bad idea.”
But recently, several Dallas managers report that it seems like just making a
CD with the songs firmly in place may be good enough for radio promotion in
Dallas, simply because none of the stations want to miss the boat on the next
Deep Blue Something. Steve’s Funland and Ardent Records’ Spot have been the
latest recipients of heavy cross-station airplay, although at least two of the
three big Dallas stations say they’re also concentrating on continuing their
support of Hagfish, Tablet, the Nixons, Ugly Mustard, and even Brutal Juice,
hoping to attract the national kudos for being the first to chart success as
much as they are hoping to beat their local competitors. In any event, says
Dallas manager Scott Robinson (Little Sister), the openness of the airwaves can
only benefit the bands themselves. “The bands that have the big local draws are
getting the most attention, but everyone wants to be the one that picks up the
next young and promising band with the great song another station may be
overlooking. It’s simply great for everybody.”
Interscope’s Brutal Juice is a band that considers any airplay a luxury; their
abrasive, semi-industrial Mutilation Makes Identification Difficult is
so radio-unfriendly that its first single was called “Kentucky Fuck Daddy.” But
in the tour-’til-it-breaks tradition of Pantera, Nine Inch Nails, or Korn,
Brutal Juice contends they’re happy with their Interscope deal because not only
has their draw doubled in markets they’d previously visited independently, but
also because they’re stretching out to new national markets and finding the
promotion work already done.
“When we toured with the X-Cops and GWAR, we’d show up at venues and read
papers that wouldn’t mention the headliners and knew about us,” says Brutal
Juice’s Ted Wood. “Best of all, our posters were hanging in the clubs when we’d
arrive, attracting interest that the headliners didn’t have because Metal Blade
doesn’t have the support staff that an Interscope can offer.”
This is as it should be, says Interscope’s Santamaria, since it’s the same
game plan he used for pushing the Toadies’ record into the gold. And although
Santamaria says he’s up front about his plans to keep the band on the road so
they can build up their fan base — eventually calling for radio and MTV
support from that amassed fan base — he admits the risk behind this formula
can be in frustrating the bands, like the Toadies’ discouragement last year
when they believed their record looked dead in the water after nine months on
the shelves.
“It takes a measured and calculated pace to break a band that’s looking for
longevity,” says Santamaria, who admits the Toadies turned him on to Brutal
Juice by taking him to a 1994 SXSW showcase. “But the more you come back to
towns and the better you do each time, the better the record’s going to sell
behind an eventual push. As long as we know we’re doing everything we can as a
label, we’re setting ourselves up for the kind of `I told you so’ we got to
give the Toadies. Brutal Juice knows when they’re on the road they’ll only have
to worry about playing, not eating, and we both know at these paces were not
building an overnight sensation like the Presidents Of The United States of
America that won’t have staying power. Brutal Juice is building towards
longevity on the road.”
The (Local) Mighty
Have Fallen So what’s happening with Austin’s major- label contingency? Everything and
nothing. While Dallas’ artists are on the charts in the trade publications,
Austin artists are more likely to be found in the gossip columns between
charts, announcing signings, droppings, and label shake-ups that could affect
their releases. And although the influx of signed acts with debuts in 1996 is
good news for Austin, of the four major-label records released last year, Ian
Moore’s Modern Day Folklore, Charlie Sexton’s Under the Wishing
Tree, Chris Duarte’s Texas Sugar/Strat Magik, and Sincola’s What
the Nothinghead Said, only Duarte’s was an unqualified success, selling
over 100,000 copies in the comparatively narrow blues-rock field. As such, it’s
easy to imagine labels taking a Santamaria-style approach with their Austin
bands: putting bands on the road for two years and taking a wait-and-see
stance.
Cutbacks of key personnel at Capricorn are too recent to fully gauge what it
might mean for Ian Moore, but even with a regional touring base and a booking
agent capable of getting him high-profile regional gigs (Rolling Stones, Bob
Dylan), insiders say Capricorn can’t be pleased that Moore’s second effort sold
noticeably fewer copies than his debut of two years ago. Faring far worse,
though, was Charlie Sexton, who along with MCA, couldn’t translate generally
favorable press into record sales or live audiences. Sexton lost his MCA deal
last month, although the same insiders who question Moore’s handling say part
of the blame should lie with MCA and their push of Sexton to a rock radio
market, rather than the more appropriate (but less glamorous) adult alternative
audience.
As for Sincola and their debut on the major-indie Caroline, both the label and
band seem happy with sales pushing just over the 10,000 mark. Sincola drummer
Terri Lord says her back surgery and the lack of a booking agent threw a wrench
in the band’s touring schedule last year and thus became album-sales
roadblocks, but adds that both situations have been dealt with and their
upcoming release should come into the world without such handicaps. Sincola,
though, does appear to have something many local artists don’t: complete label
commitment — their A&R representative has actually moved up the corporate
ladder at Caroline to a new post as director of A&R and director of
operations. Silvertone representatives also report being pleasantly surprised
with the payoff of Chris Duarte’s constant road work, resulting in consistent
Billboard Blues Chart placement. In fact, the label only recently
stopped promoting the record, conceding the small contemporary blues niche to
Louisiana SRV disciple Kenny Wayne Shepard and contending that Duarte’s March
return to the studio will best set them up to retrieve their spot by summer.
So with Dallas records either making notable national sales and radio inroads
or visibly building foundations, why then were Austin records seemingly less
successful last year? One popular theory says that, save Sincola, the three
aforementioned Austin entries were generally blues or traditional AOR-based
fare, a genre whose marketplace was cut severely by the likes of alternative
artists such as Alanis Morissette, Bush, and Silverchair. Yet another popular
theory is that the sheer number of bands in Austin paired with a smaller
population make it tough for any one artist to achieve the local sales often
necessary to attract label attention. In a metropolis the size of Dallas, with
fewer bands releasing records, it’s easier to post big numbers that will
impress a label.
Whichever theory you choose, the news of nine potential Austin releases before
summer, including six debuts, is good news based on the numbers alone. If, in a
worst-case scenario, each label were only to do the minimum and throw the
product out to the marketplace, sheer numbers alone would increase the odds of
one artist sticking. But according to the artists and managers with those
upcoming debut releases, the perception of an “Austin curse” and the news of
last year’s Austin and Dallas sales figure discrepancies makes everyone just a
bit more wary of entering major-label deals — subsequently forcing them to ask
the greater promotional, marketing, publicity, and radio questions that often
go unasked in the face of major label dreams.
“It takes a while to find a deal that feels comfortable,” concedes local
manager Mark Proct, who recently ended a long Storyville shopping spree by
inking a deal with Atlantic. “A deal is not judged by the number of zeros,
records, or years, but by the initial levels of comfort and belief that the
label and artists are on the same page concerning the kind of record an artist
wants to deliver. So although Storyville’s make-up is of a higher average age
than most new bands and they have the experience to walk into a deal clearer
than most, we still felt that establishing them to radio and retail with the
record on the smaller November Records was a way to remain competitive in the
search for a deal that would meet our needs. Atlantic understands Storyville,
and to top it off is on a great roll and feels good about themselves after
selling 12 million Hootie records.”
Proct also says Doyle Bramhall, Jr.’s debut should be out on Geffen by summer,
a deal he says makes sense after the label supported Bramhall in the aftermath
of the Arc Angel’s messy break-up. Add the hopes for that record, a follow-up
to Jimmie Vaughan’s debut (which moved an impressive 225,000 copies) and a new
Eric Johnson record sometime this year, and the Austin guitar hotshot category
looks like a fairly safe sales bet. But according to most A&R
representatives interviewed, the most promising, and subsequently high-risk
section of this year’s Austin major-label contingent, are the alternative
artists — nearly equal in numbers to Dallas’ 1994-1995 output. It’s no news
flash that radio, now more than ever, is alternative music centered.
“The majority of the bands coming out of Austin this year are alternative,”
says Austin-based Mercury A&R representative Ruth Richards, who brought
Prescott Curlywolf and Hamell on Trial to the label. “Since it’s the fastest
growing format, there’s more avenues for them to succeed. So with the right
promotion and marketing, bands like Spoon and Prescott have a real shot.”
But what is the right promotion and marketing, and better yet, what guarantees
a band they’ll receive it even when it’s promised? In November, Giant Records
began pressing advance CDs of the Ugly American’s debut, Stereophonic
Spanish Fly, a good initial indication of the generous promotional push to
come. With the band’s extensive road work (H.O.R.D.E and Dave Matthews) and
Hootie producer Don Gehman at the helm, Stereophonic… had the
groundwork laid for a potential radio hit. However, when controversial Sony
veteran Missy Worth landed at Giant in late November, one of her first moves at
establishing a new identity for the label was expressing her disinterest in the
Ugly Americans. The band was then given clearance to shop for other deals. And
although major-label release of the record looks highly likely given Gehman’s
track record, The Ugly Americans now face a setback of not only uncertain down
time, but in building a fresh relationship with a new label complete with new
promises.
“It’s a very funny time, not just for Austin bands, in that the recent
shake-ups at almost every label leave a merger-mania climate of who’s-on-first
proportions,” says Ugly Americans’ manager Mark Bliesener. “There’s so much
general confusion that the A&R, marketing, and promotion promises made upon
signing are often not worth the paper they’re printed on. Any deal’s always a
gamble, but with the confusion they all become critical now. So, unfortunately,
the music winds up taking a back seat to the lawyers and beancounters listening
to a new guard with different agendas.”
On the other side of the equation is a situation like the quick signing of
Magneto USA to Hollywood records. Hollywood, a Disney subsidiary, has just come
out of a rebuilding period, which means a negligible track record but an
understood intention of throwing Disney money into creating a
credibility-building hit. Even before papers were signed, Hollywood had matched
the band with red-hot producer Jerry Fin (Green Day, Rancid, Pennywise) for
pre-production on their Boomerang debut, due April 2. For Magneto’s
Miles Zuniga, the relatively quick courting, signing, and recording process
signaled Hollywood’s commitment at coming out of the box strong — not to
mention the label’s belief that the band was ready.
“We felt we were ready to make a record, didn’t want to wait, and were lucky
enough to be found by an A&R guy we genuinely liked who also believed in
our ability to turn around a record he’d like,” says Zuniga. “When this felt so
right, there wasn’t any reason to wait around for a bidding war. Because often
when the smoke clears you’re in no better position than the next guy.
Bidding-war bands flop all the time.”
The notion that nearly all of Austin’s upcoming debut artists have released
independent records, built local followings, and toured at least regionally
would seemingly bode well for the class of ’96. But ironically, in the time
that much of the Dallas scene has jumped to the major-label level, industry
insiders claim to be noticing the relative value of the independent record and
extensive touring declining.
“It used to be the bands like an Ugly Americans or Soulhat, who had done their
groundwork would mean more,” says Bliesener. “Three years ago we’d show
independent sales of our Big Head Todd to the labels and they’d be amazed at
the numbers, so that we got to a point where everybody that’s competing has
done their homework is great, but now it’s the norm and therefore means
less.”
Manager Marc Proct agrees, contending that even Soulhat, who had successfully
built a strong regional following in Texas, Colorado, Oklahoma, and Arkansas
college markets, somehow didn’t seem bulked-up enough in the eyes of Epic to
warrant the type of major-label push the band’s colleagues like Dave Matthews,
Blues Traveler, Rusted Root, or Phish received in the same general time frame.
And although Proct maintains the band’s internal frustration with their
stagnation prevented them from ever seeing the push he still believes would
have come, he also says he never felt Soulhat got the regional sales support
the band had seemingly laid the groundwork for either.
“The East Coast bands enjoyed a relationship with Epic that involved the label
buying all the records and merchandise and supporting each show,” says Proct.
“But we never seemed to get the same build-up and treatment a successful
regional club draw and independent record seller deserved upon releasing a
quality major-label debut.”
Even the effects of airplay for Austin bands doesn’t seem to be following
Dallas’ formula. In the case of Soulhat, surprisingly respectable Texas airplay
for “Bonecrusher,” Good to Be Gone’s first single, somehow failed to
generate the same late-inning interest Interscope managed with the Toadies. Ian
Moore singles from both records were immediately well received by radio
statewide, but a Capricorn source says the airplay typically failed to
noticeably impact sales figures. And as for the Austin equivalent to a
“Breakfast at Tiffany’s”-style independent hit, the generous local and state
radio attention paid in 1994 to Austin’s only comparable independent single,
Sincola’s “Bitch,” may have actually wound up hurting the band’s album sales
chances when their re-recorded, Caroline take on the song went back out to
radio last year.
“In a lot of ways, `Bitch’ had already happened at radio here,” says Lord. “So
when the label made that our first single we didn’t expect much locally, and
were right, because we didn’t get much.”
Breakfast on the Charts, Dinner in Obscurity? Given that airplay is tough everywhere and the cold hard fact that most
records fail to make any money, Dallas’ luck seems all the more amazing
and Austin’s all the more ordinary. Not good or bad, just ordinary. So while
Robert Wilonsky correctly warns in his Observer piece, “Don’t judge your
local music scene by the bands signed to the majors; don’t buy into the
bullshit myth that mass-market appeal is a signature of quality or recognition
of talent,” he’s wrong not to acknowledge that the excitement of big
music-business action inevitably breeds more local talent.
So despite the old myth which states that every A&R rep coming through
Austin has their favorite local band, which for whatever reason they never feel
justified to sign, 1995 proved to be the year that saw those same A&R
hounds finally snag a dozen or so Austin bands, even as Dallas was breaking
crossover-alternative-pop talent into the national arena.
“I’m not sure there’s a scene per se in Dallas, but there’s a lot of
good bands,” concludes Interscope’s Santamaria. “It’s ultimately a big city
with lots of kids who have been inspired to play music. So if Dallas bands have
made it now, it’s mostly because the mainstream has caught up and it’s their
turn to be a part of it. And right now, the one thing I notice about Austin is
that there’s a tight scene of currently non-commercial musicians who aren’t so
concerned with getting signed. It’s what I like and it’s what stands out in
Texas.” n
This article appears in January 19 • 1996 and January 19 • 1996 (Cover).