CORPORATE ROCK SUCKS

A pointed history of the rise and fall of one of the earliest alt-rock record labels.

All labels have problems, as any musician will tell you, no matter what their good intentions. In the U.K., the case in point is Factory Records. In the U.S., it’s SST, the subject of journalist and aficionado Ruland’s dig into the archives. Greg Ginn founded SST Records as a preteen in the exurbs of Los Angeles County, locked in his bedroom as a ham-radio geek selling hard-to-find electronic parts. He found his way to a guitar, drifted from heavy metal to punk, and founded the iconic band Black Flag. SST, along with a few other indie labels, “bolstered the fractious scene and proved that punk rock was more than fucked-up kids with blue hair playing dress-up.” In a Southern California scene that featured bands like Black Flag, the Germs, the Weirdos, and the Minutemen, Ruland notes two constants: SST’s business and accounting methods were as anarchic as the music, and if homogenizing corporate radio was an enemy, a worse one was the LAPD, which declared open war on the unruly kids. SST signed now-legendary bands such as the Meat Puppets, Hüsker Dü, Soundgarden, and Sonic Youth, but the business practices worsened. Lawsuits mounted, bands defected, royalties went astray, and, ultimately, writes Ruland, many of the label’s contracts were flat-out illegal, commingling publishing and recording contracts. More than four decades later, the label still exists, though it’s been quiet for a decade. The author closes by noting that while die-hards wonder why SST hasn’t cashed in on the remaster, deluxe-edition craze, the answer is simple: Many masters have gone missing, and “the vast majority of these records were produced for very little money during a short period of time in studios rented by the hour,” with iffy sound quality.

An entertaining celebration of punk rock’s golden age and a cautionary tale about overreach and excess.