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John Cook, Mac McCaughan and Laura Ballance, The Indie Label that Got Big and Stayed Small

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John Cook, Mac McCaughan and Laura Ballance , The Indie Label that Got Big and Stayed Small [Algonquin Books]

By Blake Gillespie » As I sit listening to the Nixon record by Lambchop, adrift in thoughts of how I lived without this record for the nine years since its release, I also reflect on all I took from Our Noise: The Story of Merge Records, the Indie Label that Got Big and Stayed Small. Before this book I was just a newbie, suffering an on-and-off relationship with Neutral Milk Hotel, knowing Merge largely as “the label that put out The Arcade Fire” and that's run by Superchunk. Turns out I nailed the broad strokes, but I'm all the wiser after a week with this book.

John Cook's style is informed, but unimposing, allowing a loose oral history to do most of the work. That work is done mostly by Superchunk, the flagship band with the anthems that inspired the chapter titles. While you can't fault Cook for telling the story of Merge based around its founders, the interesting people come along for chapters dedicated to bands not named Superchunk.

Ever since a fellow music writer in college gave me a mix CD of 90's indie-rock, I've championed “Slack Motherfucker” as one of my all-time classic songs. I listen to On The Mouth just as much as Kill The Moonlight. But the life of two quiet southerners who eschew the extravagance of rock fame to stay home hand-packaging records does not make a thrilling tale. It's as though Cook is trying to make the gradual dissipation of Superchunk's career as significant as the seminal records that elevated the label.

Unfortunately, it's the most intriguing figures in the story that are the most difficult to interview. Jeff Magnum is the ultimate hermit hero. He gives Merge two of it's most coveted records as a part of Neutral Milk Hotel and then disappears into the backwoods of Georgia. Rounding up everyone who contributed interviews to the story must have been an overwhelming chore. Oddly enough, Cook seems enamored by the ones who barely contributed. He intermittently devotes odes to East River Pipe, the bedroom project of FM Cornog, as a metaphor for the importance of remaining independent. It bleeds truth, but it's the insight into the conflicted relationship between tiny labels and corporations that speak the loudest.

Perhaps most rewardingly, Our Noise is a guide to the story beneath the grunge era. It's a magical world that does not involve The Offspring, Green Day or Weezer, although Squirrel Nut Zipper and Harvey Danger make appearances. I wonder if my college friend was aware that nearly every song from his mix included a Merge artist, save for a few Dismemberment Plan and Pavement songs. Rightfully so, Merge got a chance with nearly all of our indie-90's heroes. Despite declining to officially participate in Our Noise, it's Magnum's brief words in an email to Mac and Laura explaining himself that sum up the Merge story: “It gladdens me to see that it's the human labels like Merge who are fully alive in this moment, while the giants of the music industry are all eating shit. May it forever be so.”

Posted on October 07, 2009

More on: superchunk, merge records, mac mccaughan, laura ballance, john cook, neutral milk hotel, spoon, the arcade fire, jeff magnum, east river pipe, lambchop, corey rusk, touch & go

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Amen to Neutral Milk Hotel's Jeff M. for delivering the goods every time. And a big thank you to Mac and Laura for too many things to cite here. I can harken all the way back to 1992 when I met them at a Superchunk show in Nashville, and they agreed to sit for an impromtu interview with me. They were being sequestered in a cramped "dressing room" in a club, and I piled in with my posse and invaded their small space, and they couldn't have been more gracious, even if they were a bit stand-offish. Who wouldn't be? The career of Superchunk seems to be a metaphor for a lot things: the most deserving receiving the least recognition, etc., the passion of genuine human beings driven by their love for something other than the almighty buck, the phenomenon of genuine fandom given life via one's own talents. Mac and Laura, and the Merge Records family, are heroic figures in the current struggle, with generally impeccable taste, championing an apparent lost cause; and in spite of everything, they somehow manage, gracefully, to survive, and excel. They've given a voice to a lot of otherwise invisible artists, and they've amassed one of the finest independent catalogs in modern American music history. Using them as a touchstone for the Merge story is a salient part of the story. The two are inextricably linked.

Anthony Mark Happel on January 05, 2010