By Emma Silvers
By Gary Moskowitz
By Alee Karim
By Ian S. Port
By Ian S. Port
By Derek Opperman
By Emma Silvers
By Alee Karim
Here's how much things have changed for indie rock. In 1994, Chapel Hill, N.C.'s Superchunk was coming off the album that remains the best-selling disc in its catalog, Foolish, its first full-length for Merge Records, the label run by members guitarist Mac McCaughan and bassist Laura Ballance. They had made the jump from the safer harbor of a larger independent label -- New York-based Matador Records -- and landed safely on the other side, doing better than ever all by themselves.
Yet the safety didn't last long. As the band releases its ninth album, Come Pick Me Up, Superchunk has seen its sales figures dip with every album after Foolish, which sold more than 40,000 records. Here's Where the Strings Come In, released in 1995, and 1997's Indoor Living didn't even clear the 30,000 mark.
"But I don't know of anyone that hasn't had a sales drop since 1994 or something," drummer Jon Wurster says. "I was able to look up some sales figures for bands recently, and it's amazing. I would find this figure for a band that sold like a quarter of a million records in 1995 or 1996, and their new album that's been out for a year has sold 25,000. That seems very standard now. It's happening to everybody. There's a couple of bands in our town that were huge two years ago, and now they're ... not." He laughs.
Superchunk might have had the same sort of success that its North Carolina neighbors Ben Folds Five and the Squirrel Nut Zippers briefly enjoyed a few years ago if the band had stuck with Matador, which released the group's self-titled 1990 debut as well as 1991's No Pocky for Kitty and 1993's On the Mouth. (Merge rereleased all three last month.) When Superchunk ended its relationship with Matador, the label was on the verge of signing a distribution agreement with Atlantic Records, an association that might have given the band a higher profile. But as Superchunk realized when it began releasing its own albums -- Merge was formed in 1989 as an outlet for the group's singles -- selling your own records means you get to keep all of the money, and if you work hard enough, you can sell just as many without any help at all. Wurster wasn't so sure about that when the band decided to make the move.
"I think maybe we were a little apprehensive about whether the demand for the records could be met," Wurster says. "But it worked. I think that they always hoped that that would be the end result. As far as I can tell, Merge -- and also the band -- has never had any long-term goals. And I think that that's good. In the case of the band, it's good, because you don't make these unrealistic scenarios and these goals that you want to reach, and then your hopes are ultimately dashed." He laughs. "But I think Merge always hoped it would be in the position it's in right now -- keeping its integrity and actually running a successful business."
The decision made more than business sense. Fugazi's Ian MacKaye gets more credit for what he's done with Dischord Records, but McCaughan and Ballance should receive equal billing for what they've achieved with Merge. They've turned yet another artist-run vanity label into one of the most influential independents in the country, releasing albums and singles by the likes of Neutral Milk Hotel, Lambchop, and Stephin Merritt's litany of bands, including the 6ths, the Magnetic Fields, Gothic Archies, and Future Bible Heroes. McCaughan and Ballance have never compromised, putting out records that they like, not just the ones that will sell. Yet the records have sold, to the point that Merge doesn't have to rely on Superchunk albums to keep from drowning in a sea of red ink. The label recently celebrated its 10-year anniversary on July 23 and 24 with M10K, a festival featuring performances by most of the Merge roster.
This year was also Superchunk's 10th birthday, and the band's celebration of that milestone happened a few months earlier at Chicago's Electrical Audio Studios, where the group was recording Come Pick Me Up with Jim O'Rourke. O'Rourke, who has worked with everyone from the Kronos Quartet to Sonic Youth, seemed an unusual choice to produce Superchunk, one of the most unnatural pairings since Michael Jackson and Lisa Marie Presley. His penchant for abstract pop was not quite in tune with the band's more straightforward guitar rock, even though Indoor Living had proved there was more to Superchunk than it had shown in the past. But, Wurster says, that's exactly what the band wanted. They already knew how Superchunk made records -- maybe a little too well. What they wanted, and needed, was someone to show them another way.
"I've always been a fan of records where bands take a different approach and try things they hadn't before, like London Calling by the Clash," Wurster says. "Or that Ramones album, End of the Century -- that had some neat stuff on it. We definitely wanted to try new things and put strings and horns on it, but Jim O'Rourke was really instrumental in actually helping us realize that. None of us actually knew him before we worked with him. We liked the records that he'd done, and knew that he was kind of ... not weird, but coming from a different place than we were coming from, and I think we really needed that. This was someone that probably didn't really even know our records very well. Which was good."