by Christopher Hess

The alarm has been sounded, the cry has gone up -- and has been going up for some time now -- that the record industry is hurting. It's the technology, the spreading-too-thin of Joe Average's entertainment dollar, the ease with which any shmoe can record and produce his own record and, on the other end, the capabilities of the big guys to be everywhere, and cheap. Caught in the middle of all this are the independents -- the small companies committed to a stable of musicians with usually specialized sounds and philosophies and to the production and distribution of their product in a wide yet dignified manner. So instead of being swallowed up in the not-as-commercially-viable void between consignment stores and the Best Buy racks, steps must be taken.

Started in 1987 mainly to record live performances at Antone's blues club, the Antone's Records label received some acclaim for its releases of Memphis Slim and Matt Murphy's reunion and Eddie Taylor's last recordings. An anthology was made for the club's 10th anniversary and featured blues gods Buddy Guy, Albert Collins, Otis Rush and many others. The success of these records prompted the label to take operations from the club into the studio, and local legends and Antone's fixtures Doug Sahm, Lou Ann Barton and Angela Strehli were among the first of these releases. James Cotton Live, released on Antone's in its second year, was nominated for a Grammy and established Antone's as a reputable blues label. All was going very well, even better than expected. But the thing about the blues is that it doesn't sell millions -- especially the kind of traditional "low-down" blues that Clifford Antone, president of the label and proprietor of the club, likes to focus his energies on.

If quality recording and purity of the music are a record company's goals, then it's necessary to have capital to back up the projects. Especially if they won't immediately make the money back. Blues records do make money, but it takes a while. And those in the business of recording jazz are in much the same boat. Discovery Records, based in Santa Monica, was started back in 1948 in Los Angeles by Albert Marx and focused exclusively on jazz, recording the likes of Dizzie Gillespie and Georgie Auld. The label was sold in 1952, but was bought back by Marx in the late '70s and reactivated. Discovery re-established recording artists like Sue Raney and Mike Wofford in Los Angeles,and maintained its image as a solid jazz label throughout the 1980s. Marx died in 1991, and Jac Holzman -- who had founded Elektra Records in 1950, built it up as an important home for the folk movement of the '50s and '60s and then retired from it after it was acquired and made a part of what is today WEA (Warner-Elektra-Atlantic) -- saw the label as a solid platform for a new company. Holzman's ties to the Warner Music Group provided the means for distribution through WEA, which would enable them to use the resources of a major while retaining the autonomy of an independent. So, officially, they are a free-standing label of the Warner Music Group. They have worked the independent position to successful effect, reactivating the old catalogs, releasing contemporary jazz to a large market, and expanding at a deliberate and careful pace to the world outside of jazz.

"This is a business, but it's a business hardened by a very emotional side -- the music. It all depends on why you're in it," says Syd Birenbaum, CEO of Discovery Records. Birenbaum has been involved with the company for many years, working his way through the ranks until his appointment to chiefdom in early 1996. He is responsible for the Antone's deal. In 1993 he came to Texas and was captivated by a female blues-country singer during a SXSW showcase. The singer was Toni Price, and the show prompted both immediate and sustained interest in her career on Birenbaum's part, which led to his offer to distribute her first album, Swim Away. In order for this to happen, Discovery and Antone's (to whom Price had already committed and with whom the recording had already begun) had to strike a deal. Originally the deal was just for Price, but over the next few years the interest and communication were maintained, and in 1996 the two labels signed an agreement by which Antone's would remain an independent label with distribution handled by Discovery and WEA. From that point on, all Antone's releases would carry the double imprint of both labels.

Through the contract, Discovery has exclusive licensing and distribution rights to all Antone's releases for about two-thirds of the world -- North America and the Pacific Rim mostly. Antone's still handles their European distribution, a market they are plenty comfortable covering on their own. Also part of the contract, Discovery has the option of refusing any offering made by Antone's, a necessity and a technicality, but one that could carry great weight. "It's not a clause we hope or plan to enact often, but there are some things in the catalog that may not be of sufficient commercial interest for us to take on," says Birenbaum. This begs the question of how much influence Discovery executives will have over who and what gets on Antone's. If there is no distribution interest at Discovery, no matter what the level of artistic value or historical interest to those at Antone's, a project could be considered unmarketable and not undertaken. But Birenbaum shrugs that off. "Our involvement is more a fraternal than a controlling one, in terms of what is good for Antone's is good for Discovery. If we didn't believe what they were already doing could work, we wouldn't be in this."

On the side of Antone's in this is a deep commitment to the music -- and luckily that is characteristic of Discovery as well, who have developed a reputation for sticking with their artists in the face of moderate to little commercial success. A label that just as adamantly pursues the re-release of their back catalog of jazz recordings as they do the recruiting of new and alternative acts is about as safe a situation as a small label like Antone's could hope for as they enter the tenuous world of contracts with major distributors.

Antone's has never been flushed with cash, and for the past few years they've been struggling to stay afloat. Attempts to tap into other markets with the formation of the DMZ and Dos labels were unsuccessful and laden with money problems. And, as these separate entities are not of interest to Discovery, they've been put on the back burner.

Considering the mountains that independent labels must climb in today's market, it seems that joint ventures of this nature are in everyone's best interests. "It's a plan that's viable in the 90s," says Birenbaum, pointing to the example of, among others, the Trauma/Interscope/MCA collaboration that's produced such commercial mega-successes as No Doubt and Bush. "At any given time in contemporary music new life and energy springs forth from the independent label. And in order for us to stay in touch with that, the type of deal we have with Antone's is a very graceful way of pulling all the elements together." It's a plan that they intend to expand, as long as it doesn't harm the interests of their current partners. Those partners include the Eureka label, a "straight- ahead rock" label also in California that's home to the shockingly SRV-ish Cory Stevens; and China Records, a UK-based, mostly-techno label whose catalog includes the Art of Noise, the Egg and Morcheeba.

The focus on the devotion to the music and the autonomy of the independent label is a subject Birenbaum consistently returns to: "It's important to us to maintain the integrity of [the Antone's] institution. If we wanted to corrupt or exploit it, we'd buy it outright. That's the way that kind of thing is done, but we don't want that. We want to give them the opportunities we have as a WEA entity because we believe in the music they believe in. They wouldn't have that opportunity otherwise."

True. Antone's stands to benefit relatively quickly from this collaboration, as they have a few major releases planned for this year including the early January release of new albums by Boozoo Chavis, Miss Lavelle White, and Snooky Pryor, as well as the truly massive re-release project that will begin to happen on a monthly basis with about 25 titles to hit the stores by April. This will mean renewed circulation as well as a new marketing push from Discovery.

The push couldn't have come at a better time, as the past couple years have been particularly rough on Antone's. Led to believe that 1995 was a successful period for selling blues records, Antone's headquarters was bombarded with returns at the end of the year. And with no releases coming out in the first half of 1996, there was no product out to pick up the slack. So the debt and the tension grew. They muddled through, though, with a little help from friends and investors who are willing to put up money for what they believe is a cultural necessity for the city. That help enabled Antone's to stay afloat until, in the middle of '96, Discovery re-entered the picture and bolstered the business end with a promise of product movement and steady, solid release dates. Business was taken care of.

But the fact remains, the last word has to be music. And, logically, it must be Clifford Antone himself who utters it. "Everything is rolling along just fine. They said it'd take about a year before we could see if this was working or not, so we'll see in another six months or so," Antone says. He seems detached from the subject, though, and steers the conversation back to the music. The Discovery folk "seem like good people; they know what they're doing," he says. "But that's for them to figure out. I see it like you don't really care who you're doing it with, you just want to get it done." But in speaking about the label, there is an option on the agreement, a future opportunity for Discovery to bail if they aren't satisfied or to buy if they are. So does that mean they already have ownership investment -- a year lease with an option to buy?

"Well, that's just to see what happens," Antone says. "That's for the lawyers. I don't want to sell the label. But I don't really think about that much; that's not what it's about for me. Label shmabel, I just make records. That's all bullshit."

If one thing is true about Clifford Antone, it's that he is dedicated heart and soul to the music he records. "I know how to record people, blues people. Look at Lou Ann, Doug Sahm, Kim Wilson. I recorded those people right. I got the real thing out of them for history's sake. I'm a music guy, that's what I do. Just listen to the Doug Sahm record and a [Texas] Tornadoes record back to back and tell me what's what."

The division between the business end and the artistic end of the recording business is a line Antone isn't too willing to cross, and he has seen all too well how that boundary can keep real talent out of the game. "The music biz is cruel to the true artist, most of them dwell in obscurity," says Antone. "Look at Eugene Carrier down in Houston. Hell, look at James Polk. He's the best goddam keyboard player around and you don't see him at the Austin Music Awards. The business is a complete, absolute joke."

Accordingly, Clifford Antone's projects of choice do not have the commercial appeal that those in power at Discovery will likely take interest in. But that's something that he apparently can live with. It's enough that he can keep recording local artists in the way he thinks they should be presented -- "for history's sake." And the age-old fact that it is this obscurity that keeps the music he loves so pure is not lost on him either. It's just a sad fact that has to be accepted and risen above. That last word? "It all boils down to the same thing. It's just me and my friends here on our own trying to make our way in the world."