On this edition of Sound Off, Rapid Cities‘ John Terry talks about the trials and tribulations of an independent band trying to put out their debut record. This piece was written in late April. You can check out the Band Spotlight I did on the band here.

I’m currently in what is like a third and a half round of reviewing proofs for the artwork for the Rapid Cities record that is (allegedly) going to be ready for release by the end of next month and – man, oh, man, is it a headache.

When I started playing in bands in high school – now getting to be around 10 years ago (whoa) – all I really wanted to do was simply find ways to get my music out to more people, as genuinely felt I always had something to offer. Although I expected there to be all kinds of speed bumps, hurdles, and miscellaneous obstacles that would be thrown in my way, I never expected the logistical nightmare that this would entail.

“Cry about it,” is what all you seasoned vets of the road and record labels and DIY music will probably be wanting to tell me as you’re reading this, since you have perhaps truly struggled more than I, which I genuinely do not doubt. No I am not just recently losing my naïevete, nor am I surprised at what I am finding, but I think I am starting to come to terms with the fact that I’m approaching a whole new level of music “business” that I ever thought I would be dealing with. And I’m not even talking about the fun part where, say, you get to throw eggs at the A&R guy like Nirvana did, or where you get to throw a couch out the hotel window and watch your manager cringe when he sees the bill of damages the next morning, or where you – well, you get the picture. I already assumed there would be logistical crap to deal with, but then again, I never ever thought that I would be putting out records.

Maybe that was really silly of me to think that? But for some reason, I figured that if I act out of my own accord to book dozens of bands on tour and provide entertainment for my local community; buy a PA and mics (that often get abused or stolen) to provide sound at said shows; move into a house and live where I can throw said shows and where people can feel free to party and smash bottles in my kitchen and piss in my sink and get the cops called on me; perpetually drop half my paycheck on things like buying blank t-shirts, setting up direct withdrawal for van insurance, writing checks to the mechanic and the DMV, making copies of fliers and art for demos at Staples; go on tour in all ridiculous seasons, climes, and locales to endanger my well-being and those around me etc. etc. etc. then I figured maybe one day my work would come back to me in karma form and somebody would say, “Hey, I like what you do, and I can help you.”

Well, when I announced that Rapid Cities would be writing a full length record, this began a series (although admittedly sparse series) of such offers of assistance that seemed, at first, promising, but soon went the way of the proverbial buffalo and gradually dissipated to unreturned phone calls and e-mails. Maybe I’m expecting a lot from someone I’m only acquaintances with, and for a band that does not currently tour full time or across continents. I am by no means blaming anyone for acting as they did, and maybe this is really just about me finally finding myself in their shoes as the great, big lesson here.

So here I am. A finished full-length album (the band’s first, my first). Finished artwork (as of last week). And a big, fat check sent to the plant, leaving a comfortably wide gap in my bank account that you could probably shove a small elephant through. They are currently trying to get us to match the colour yellow (the woman I am corresponding with uses U’s in words such as “colour”, which leads me to presume that she may be British), using the correct pantone color, from the obscure “solid coated book” provided by Adobe Illustrator. Mind you, I am no graphic artist by any means (I’m a musician, damn it!), but the fact that this is the third (and a half) time that I’m getting my artwork sent back to me is really making me aware that I either (A) am in way over my head or (B) need to start being the jack of all trades (master of none?).

What this really boils down to is that I have reached a new rung on the ladder of residual effects which have trickled my way as I try to find new and more methods to support my (potentially insane) pastime. While the first rungs were labeled say, “Be a promoter,” or “Understand motor vehicle transmissions,” this newest one is called, “Start a record label.” And I have to say, this is one of the larger challenges I’ve come across yet. Again, I’ll make a quick point here to say that I am not upset with anyone who couldn’t “help us out” (nor am I ungrateful for anyone that already has in their own way), but in fact I am sympathizing with you who put out records and all the work that you do on a regular basis to move your projects along.

The prospects of this challenge are a bit intimidating (How do I find distro? Will I ever see this money again? Where will this get me next?), but I am not too worried, and do not believe that all of this is vanity (as this article (diatribe?) may previously have led you to believe), because I sincerely think that what you’ll find wrapped in that clear plastic stuff, that I am paying so dearly for, will be worth your time in some way or other. We spent a better part of last year in the studio, recording at odd hours and intervals, doing and re-doing the mixes and masters for a couple months, and now working out all the logistics with the printing plant so we can assemble a product that, although imperfect (like any offering of art) is a good enough representation of what I’ve been meaning to offer to other people over the past several years of toil. I do also think that I can speak for Cassidy, Shaun, and even Anthony, when I say this too.

Anyway, you can choose to pick up the record because you sympathize with the story you’ve just read, but what I am really hoping is that you’ll be picking up this record because you’ll be finding the contents of it to be pleasing, provoking, eliciting some kind of response from you (a head nod, an eyebrow raised, a tugging of one’s collar…). My friend John has provided me with the logo he dropped on his own seven inch last year to be stamped on this project as well, and if you have any further interest in this release, our first, called Machinery Saints, then I hope that you’ll write us at the following (and fitting!) e-mail address: ilovetohaterecords@gmail.com. Because despite all my whining, I do think that there is a lot of this that I love!

* John Terry