Carr, Roy. “Emi freaked.” New Musical Express, 6 Nov. 1976, 4 pages. Reprint – History of Rock 1976
"EMI freaked"
— Roy Carr in New Musical Express, spotlighting the rise of independent labels Stiff Records and Chiswick as they disrupted the UK music industry.
— Carr compares the £400 shoestring founding of Stiff with Berry Gordy’s Motown, showing how Jake Riviera and Dave Robinson bypassed contracts, lawyers, and majors to get fresh talent like Nick Lowe, Roogalator, and The Damned pressed and into shops within weeks. Their hit single “New Rose” made history as the first UK punk release. Meanwhile, Ted Carroll’s Chiswick Records emerges from his Rock On shops, reissuing rarities like “Brand New Cadillac” and releasing new bands such as The Gorillas. Both labels champion credibility, fair royalties, and speed over corporate polish, shaking the complacency of the majors.
New Musical Express | 6 November 1976 | 4 pages | Reprint: History of Rock 1976
PHOTO: The Damned: Stiff Records made them the first UK punk band to get a single out with "New Rose", released on October. ERICA ECHENBERG / GETTY
"Emi freaked"
Independent labels
British record labels are doing it for themselves - and for just £400. No lawyers, no contracts, Stiff and Chiswick are tearing up the record industry rulebook, with singles by bands such as The Damned. "They really haven't got much to lose," says one label boss.
In January 1959, Berry Gordy Jr founded Motown Records on the strength of a £400 loan. In July 1976, Dr Feelgood’s one-time tour manager, Jake Riviera, in partnership with Graham Parker’s manager Dave Robinson, launched Stiff Records with precisely the same amount. Their £400 was advanced by the Feelgoods.
“Today’s sound today”, a respectful paraphrase of Phil Spector’s “Tomorrow’s sound today”, is Stiff’s slogan - and an accurate one for a label which in less than three months has established itself as the prime outlet for aspiring local club talent.
A shoestring operation run with boundless enthusiasm from a small converted lock-up shop in London’s Notting Hill, Stiff has built up the kind of street-level credibility that the major record companies never attain, despite their standing on the stock exchange.
“Credibility,” Dave Robinson insists, “is even more important than actual finance at the beginning of a venture like Stiff.” White man doesn’t speak with forked tongue!
For the time being, Stiff only have sufficient cash to enter into one-off deals (with an option), but the fact that an artist of Nick Lowe’s stature (ex of Brinsley Schwarz) was prepared to inaugurate the label has meant that Riviera and Robinson have had little difficulty in attracting fresh talent to the fold.
Of the artists so far pacted, none are what could be termed “other labels’ rejects.” Primarily, they are those souls who normally don’t fit into most major record companies’ five-year investment plans.
The Damned: Stiff Records made them the first UK punk band to get a single out with “New Rose”, released on October 22, 1976
It’s the immediacy of Stiff that makes it such an attractive and exciting enterprise. For, in very much the same way as the more responsible sections of the rock press file reports on emergent talent, Stiff are recording many of these artists while they’ve still got hunger in their bellies, fire in their blood and an HP company on their backs. The upshot is that they get the results out on the streets while it’s still happening. Despite a limited cash flow, Riviera maintains that if necessary, within two weeks of signing a letter of agreement (who can afford lawyers?), an act can have their record pressed and in the shops.
Though Riviera sometimes chooses extremes to illustrate his logic, he nevertheless makes his point. “For far too long,” he says, “there has been a gap between the million-quid advance and scuffling about in a cellar. There had to be a middle ground. I believe Stiff is it.”
Now £400 isn’t a helluvalot of money with which to try to set the record industry on fire, but, with just svelte Suzanne Spiro to hold the fort, answer the phone, handle the paperwork and heal the sick, Stiff seems to get by without too many traumas.
The most important thing is that Stiff sells records; maybe only a few thousand copies at most, but that’s still a few thousand more than most new artists can hope to sell. Along with other similar labels, Stiff has instigated its own market through an international network of specialist record shops and mail-order companies.
You have to understand that with the major labels, unless it’s a specialist release, a golden oldie or a disco demand, a record either sells no more than the initial pressing order of a couple of hundred or else, if it’s lucky, it makes the charts. With few exceptions, there are no in-betweens.
Stiff releases move off the company’s shelf as quickly as they arrive from EMI’s pressing plant. “Actually," says Riviera, “EMI freaked when we got started. They began to ask who the hell are these guys who are doing 5,000 with the Pink Fairies and other groups they’ve never heard of. They still can’t quite get over it. They’re so used to singles turkeying at 500 or selling upwards of 20,000, and here we are forever reordering 1,000 copies immediately after one lot has been pressed.”
Though overheads continue to escalate, £300 will still get 2,000 copies of any record pressed and also cover the royalties. The cost of the picture sleeve is extra, but Stiff can still maintain quality control and bring their product into line with other labels by selling a single at the recommended retail price of 70p.
So apart from a picture sleeve, what else can Stiff offer an artist?
“The way things are at the moment,” Riviera continues, “we can virtually guarantee to sell quite a few thousand copies of a record by a group that, for various reasons, the majors would never consider signing.”
Roogalator is offered by Riviera as a prime example.
“They received some exceedingly fine press coverage, every A&R man checked them out, but when it came to the crunch nobody was prepared to take a chance with them.
“Working with the kind of limited finance we have at our disposal, it can often prove to be frustrating when you know for a fact that with a band like Roogalator we can easily sell 5,000 EPs in advance, yet only have sufficient funds to place an initial pressing order of 2,000. For instance, we got 6,000 advance orders on the Pink Fairies single and 2,000 for an unknown band like The Damned.”
Owing to different production budgets, each record has its own break-even sales figure; every one of Stiff’s releases has not only recouped the initial outlay but they’ve all shown a profit.
The Lew Lewis single “Boogie On The Street” only needed to sell 800 copies before it showed a profit because the Feelgoods gave Stiff the tapes gratis. As a result,
Lewis will be cutting a follow-up, probably a reworking of Manfred
Mann’s “5-4-3-2-1”. Roogalator will go into the black at 3,000, because they received a £100 advance. One thing that does remain constant is the exceptionally high royalty of 15 per cent that Stiff pay their artists.
Says Robinson: “We’re not in a position to give large advances. The hundred quid we paid Roogalator was an exception and also about as high as we could afford to go. So we ask a group to come along with us. They really haven’t got that much to lose.”
“To begin with, they get a record in the shops and if it sells well they are in a position to make a good profit. To a relatively unknown club band, a single is of great help with regard to getting gigs.”
Though there is an option clause on both sides in Stiff’s letters of agreement with their artists, there is a distinct possibility that because of the media coverage that Stiff has garnered, any one of their acts could chalk up a small hit, a big reputation and as a result be picked up by a major label who wouldn’t have normally considered signing the acts that Stiff thrive on.
As Riviera points out: “Already publishers and a few astute A&R men are starting to think that if it's good enough for Stiff, then just maybe they should get in quick.”
“We don’t want other labels to use us simply as a stepping stone”
“We are a little scared of that happening,” he admits. “Naturally, we want to build Stiff into a steady thing, but at the same time we don’t want other labels to use us simply as a stepping stone – once we’ve demonstrated that there’s a demand for an act, a major label comes along and reaps all the benefit from the hard work we’ve put into the act. I can tell you, we work our butts off.”
Having already admitted that as yet there isn’t sufficient floating cash to lure acts with large advances, Dave Robinson hopes to put into effect a plan that will swell Stiff’s coffers. At one time, Robinson used to run the recording studio at the Hope & Anchor in Islington, during which time he recorded “live” every group ever to play there.
Once Robinson has secured the necessary releases from various bands, he intends to compile a double, maybe a triple album of 70s pub roots rock featuring everyone from the Feelgoods to the Brinsleys, Ace and Kokomo. Robinson and Riviera reckon that the profit from such a project would be far more amenable than having a silent financial partner.
Stiff is a sink-or-swim operation. It will succeed or fail on its principles. Whatever the outcome, the partners are determined to avoid the pitfalls that plague most labels: heavy release schedules, lack of promotion time – and apathy.
“We’ve got to make Stiff a self-reliant organisation,” Riviera insists. “Because to be truthful, aside from the money we received from the Feelgoods, nobody is prepared to back us. They all think we’re bloody mad. Don’t really think we’ve got a chance. For instance, they know that if we suddenly found we had a chart hit on our hands we’d be forced to lease it to one of the majors like they do in America.”
Neither Robinson nor Riviera were born yesterday. They are fully aware that musicians are extremely ambitious and that loyalties can be bought for a hefty cash advance. Nevertheless, Stiff feels that there are sufficient bands to maintain the label and enable it to survive without compromise.
Label co-founder Jake Riviera turns a blind eye as Captain Sensible tries a little gentle persuasion on office mainstay Suzanne Spiro at the Stiff offices, 32 Alexander Street, London W2 – PHOTO: Keith Morris / GETTY
“Let’s not kid ourselves for a minute,” says Riviera, “none of our acts have secured deals with other labels as a result of recording for Stiff. So if nobody is going to pick up the Pink Fairies or Roogalator and we’ve got sufficient money for another single – or in the case of Nick Lowe, an album – and they want to do it, then we can keep on issuing records by them because we know in advance their minimum sales potential. Also, they know they’re not stuck with us for life. I honestly think it’s that kind of freedom that can often bring out the best in an artist.”
However, it needs to be pointed out that Stiff’s comparative minor success is also beginning to work against them. On those occasions when they've approached a major label to enquire about the possibility of leasing old master tapes they’ve been treated with suspicion.
“It’s not so much that they're scared of us,” says Robinson. “Just that they’re not sure what we’re up to and how we can keep on selling thousands of records by people they’ve never heard of or that they wouldn’t want to record.
“Therefore,” he concludes, “when Jake and I come around asking to lease something they automatically think it’s worth a fortune, but they’d never think of reissuing it themselves.
They much prefer to sit on it and do nothing.”
Stiff can’t afford to procrastinate. As a matter of fact, neither can they afford to pay their staff wages. Robinson and Riviera earn their daily crust not from Stiff but through their management company, and then they only draw £34 apiece each week.
“It’s gonna be one helluva time before we become tax exiles,” quips Riviera, “but there’s always the possibility.”
Berry Gordy didn’t do so bad for himself on £400 either.
Ted Carroll is adamant. Within the next 12 months, Chiswick Records will have a hit record. A gregarious red-bearded Dubliner, Carroll exudes the kind of confidence one would expect from a man who’s had his Rock On record shop immortalised in the lyrics of Thin Lizzy’s “The Rocker”.
The proprietor of both Rock On and Chiswick, Ted Carroll is the most respected character among British record collectors and a man who has an enviable reputation for fair trading. He’d much prefer to undersell than oversell his wares.
A visit to any of Carroll’s three Rock On stalls/shops is a compulsory part of any visiting rock fan’s London itinerary.
While still living in Dublin, Carroll was first baptised into rock’n’roll when he played rhythm guitar with the Caravelles before switching to bass when they mutated to The Greenbeats and recorded an obscure Jagger-Richards original for Pye. A musician by night, Carroll also held down a nine-to-five gig as a bank teller. However, when he was transferred to a border town in 1961 he quit playing and became a part-time promoter, organising weekly R&B sessions at a tearoom on the beach at Killarney. Two years later, the police closed him down for overcrowding the venue.
Soon after, Carroll got himself involved in managing an early Skid Row lineup that included Phil Lynott as lead vocalist. That kept Carroll off the streets until 1968, when he moved to Bournemouth where, for the next two years, he drove a corporation bus. On a visit to Dublin, Carroll once again met up with the Skids and immediately accepted the position of tour manager – a six-month gig that took him to America for a four-week tour. During a stop-over in Sacramento, Carroll purchased a copy of Charlie Gillett’s book Sound Of The City.
On his return to London, he quit the Skids and, with some Decca and London-American deletions he’d picked up on the cheap from an Irish warehouse, opened his Saturday-only record shack in the rear of an arcade in Golborne Road at the flea market end of Portobello Road in October 1971.
Though Carroll had taken over Thin Lizzy’s management seven months earlier, he abdicated soon after guitarist Gary Moore quit. From there on in, Carroll devoted his energies to expanding Rock On. In 1974 he opened his stall in the Soho Market and just before Christmas of last year he not only opened a shop in Kentish Town Road, but launched Chiswick Records with The Count Bishops’ “Speedball” EP.
Carroll argues that as Chiswick is a logical extension of Rock On, he couldn’t compromise himself when it came to recording the Bishops. “You’ve got to start the way you intend to continue,” Carroll theorises, with the result that he invested £150 on studio time, £400 on the pressing of 2,500 records, plus the cost of the sleeve and the labels. “I reckon,” says Carroll, “that it costs £800, but we’ve already recouped that amount and made a profit.”
The “Speedball” EP has already notched up sales of 2,500, while most of the 1,000 re-order pressing have already been accounted for. “If it wasn’t for the Christmas rush, I'd have reordered 2,000, because I can get rid of them.”
Chiswick almost had a minor hit with their second release, a reissue of the early-’60s British rock classic “Brand New Cadillac” by Vince Taylor & The Playboys. Had Chiswick finalised their distribution deal with President Records when the single was hot, it might have made the Top 40. Despite missing important concentrated sales action, “Brand New Cadillac” is approaching 10,000 copies and still selling steadily.
However, Carroll isn’t losing sleep over the Vince Taylor near-miss, for he has little doubt that Chiswick will get a hit and hopefully it will be with Hammersmith’s arcane mod power-trio, The Gorillas, the only act under exclusive contract to Chiswick.
Carroll has invested money in new equipment, a manager is being sought, a French tour supporting The Flamin’ Groovies is upcoming, together with a December 5 gig at the Roundhouse.
Carroll insists that labels like Chiswick and Stiff and the French-based Skydog operation will succeed because not only do they show a genuine interest in the records they release, but they also have integrity.
“So few of the major labels,” insists Carroll, “have any integrity. They are all money-making machines. It’s a fact that most of the people who work in them know bugger all about the music or their artists, and truthfully they don't want to know. For all that they’re contributing, they might just as well be selling beans, and the kids have got wise to it.”
“The only person I know,” Carroll continues, “who works for a major record company who is totally aware of what he is doing, is in a powerful position and is successful, is Andrew Lauder over at United Artists. I’m sure there are other people like Andrew in other record companies, but how often are they given an opportunity to really prove themselves?”
Though they might not have real effect on this country's balance of payments, Chiswick Records is building up a large export business – for, according to Carroll, both here and abroad a whole new record market is crystallising.
“The shops,” Carroll reveals, “are a direct reaction to Boots and Smiths. Today, there are two ways of running a record shop. You either discount the Top 50 or you specialise.”
“It’s those shops who specialise, stock imports, cut-outs, rarities and small labels that are beginning to do good business and build up regular customers. There’s a big market for individuality, and as a result these specialist shops can open up without having to take out large accounts with the majors.”
“The great thing about a label like Chiswick is that unlike the majors, a record isn’t dead after three weeks. The product continues to sell to people who might not have picked up on some of the releases when they were originally issued. Thankfully, the back catalogue continues to move. And now, with our distribution with President, should one of our records suddenly take off, they can handle it. They’ve proved themselves over and over again with hits for Hank Mizell, George McCrae and KC & The Sunshine Band.”
“You know,” Carroll concludes, “the first shoe-string label to score a hit will scare the shit out of the majors. You see, we’re straight off the streets and are more in touch with what’s happening than all those expense-account A&R men. We ain’t gonna take over the entire record business, but we’re gonna get by. That’s for certain.”
Roy Carr
New Musical Express | 6 November 1976 | 4 pages | Reprint: History of Rock 1976