Dumptruck was discussed here recently--this article (from the Chicago
Tribune) details why they broke up. Another record industry horror story,
as it turns out.
Dumptruck reissue conjures up the record industry's ugly past
By Rick Reger
Special to the Tribune
Published January 13, 2004
There's no question that these are not the best of times for aspiring rock
and pop musicians.
Many have detailed the plight of musicians trying to land or even retain
major label contracts at a time when media consolidation has resulted in
fewer labels offering fewer contracts to a narrowing range of artists.
This drumbeat of dire tales may have created the impression that the
record
industry has never been more inhospitable to aspiring young talent. But
it's
worth remembering that the industry's "good old days" were often just as
awful.
That was underscored recently when Rykodisc reissued the first three
albums
by the '80s indie-rock band Dumptruck, "D Is for Dumptruck" (1984),
"Positively Dumptruck" (1985) and "For the Country" (1987). The saga of
Dumptruck provides a pointed example of the kind of treatment musicians
with
high hopes and few resources could often expect at the hands of labels
both
large and small.
Dumptruck formed in Boston in 1983 around songwriters and guitarists Seth
Tiven and Kirk Swan. Although Dumptruck's early music reflected some of
punk
rock's raw energy and DIY ethic, its sound was more akin to that of bands
such as R.E.M. or Rain Parade in its reliance on '60s-influenced
songwriting
and arranging.
The band essentially self-released its debut album "D Is for Dumptruck" in
1984, and was taken aback by the positive response the disc received.
Shortly thereafter, Dumptruck signed with Big Time records, a seemingly
well-financed, upstart independent label that had assembled a critically
acclaimed roster, including Alex Chilton, the Go-Betweens, Love and
Rockets
and the Hoodoo Gurus.
According to Tiven, Big Time did an excellent job of promoting the band's
fine second album, "Positively Dumptruck," and subsequent tour in 1985.
However, the following year while Tiven and the band were in Wales
recording
their third, more rustic record, "For the Country," he began noticing that
Big Time checks were bouncing.
"The `For the Country' tour was a disaster in many ways, but it was clear
that there had been no money spent promoting the record or publicizing the
tour, which was very different from the previous tour," Tiven says.
"However, I also knew that our contract with Big Time stipulated that the
label had to exercise its option to re-sign us after our second album
within
a specified time frame, and that time frame had elapsed."
According to Tiven, during a meeting at the label's Los Angeles office,
Big
Time's owner Fred Bestall admitted that the label had neglected to re-sign
the band in accordance with their contract. When he asked Tiven if that
created a problem, Tiven claims he told Bestall he'd have to consult with
the band's attorney before he could answer.
"A month or so later when we finished the tour, it was obvious Big Time
was
going under," Tiven says. "And I never heard another word from them about
renewing our contract. Since our two records with them had each sold about
35,000 copies, major labels were interested in us."
Initiating the storm
In early 1988, Tiven says he learned that Bestall was negotiating to sell
the rights to Dumptruck -- a band he did not have under contract -- to a
British label. Tiven and the band's lawyer then sent that label a copy of
the expired Big Time contract and asked the label to negotiate directly
with
them. After its lawyers confirmed that Big Time had no claim to the band,
the label agreed.
"When Bestall found out what we were doing, he was livid," Tiven says. "I
think he truly believed that I had betrayed him, but he shouldn't have
been
negotiating the rights to a band he didn't have under contract. Still, he
made it very clear that I was in for a nasty fight."
(Attempts to locate Fred Bestall so he could contribute comments to this
story were unsuccessful.)
Shortly thereafter, Bestall and Big Time slapped Dumptruck with a $5
million
breach of contract lawsuit, and, according to Tiven, threatened the
British
label with a $10 million lawsuit for interfering in a business
relation****p.
The British label quickly lost interest in Dumptruck, as did every other
record label, large and small, that had been courting the band.
Surprisingly, even with Dumptruck's career completely stalled, Bestall
continued to pursue the court case, giving Tiven and what was left of the
band no choice but to fight. Two-and-a-half years and $40,000 in legal
fees
later, Dumptruck was awarded a default judgment against Bestall and Big
Time
after Big Time's attorneys stopped showing up for hearings.
The band was awarded $240,000 (of which it would eventually collect about
$2,000) and the rights to its Big Time recordings. But if there was ever a
Pyrrhic victory, this was it.
"At that time, I didn't understand the shelf life of a rock band, so I
thought Dumptruck would just pick up where it left off," Tiven says. "But
Nirvana and grunge had hit, and we were no longer considered relevant.
"I'm
also convinced that the fact we actually won a court fight with a record
label didn't exactly endear us to record companies. I think we were viewed
as troublemakers. So when we finally emerged from the lawsuit, we were
broke
with a huge debt and no career prospects whatsoever."
Tiven eventually relocated to Austin, formed a new Dumptruck and released
an
excellent album, "Days of Fear," on the tiny Texas imprint Unclean.
However,
the record wasn't released until 1994, seven years after "For the
Country,"
and few music fans even knew about it.
"I don't know that what happened to Dumptruck is typical of what goes on,"
says Barry Simons, a Partner in Simons & Stein, a Bay Area law firm with a
long history of representing musicians and independent record labels. "But
Dumptruck's story is a good example of how ugly the music business has
been
and can be."
In charge
Typically, record labels haven't had to drag artists through the courts to
control them. Major labels' deep pockets and access to top legal expertise
have long enabled them to use legal instruments, like contracts, to exert
unprecedented control over artists and their music. That's something Barry
Simons has witnessed firsthand in his two decades of practice.
"Most musicians understand the basics of how recording contracts work, but
they don't understand the implications of how the clauses in these
contracts
will impact them over the long term," Simons says. "Record company
contracts
have 15 to 20 pages of royalty provisions alone, with numerous deductions
for this and reductions for that. They're brutal, and they ensure that
most
artists are unlikely to see any royalties unless their records are very,
very successful."
The Future of Music Coalition a Wa****ngton, D.C.-based musicians'
information and advocacy group posts a detailed "Major Label Contract
Clause
Critique" on its Web site. The critique goes through a standard
boilerplate
contract and translates the legalese of key clauses into plain and often
disheartening English. Another new musicians advocacy group, the
California-based Recording Artists' Coalition, also includes a detailed
contract critique on its Web site.
One might think that the long history of record label mistreatment of
artists has finally boiled over and is fueling the creation of such
advocacy
groups. But Jenny Toomey, co-founder of the Future of Music Coalition,
disagrees.
"Artists are organizing now primarily in response to big media
consolidation," she says. "There's more power in the hands of fewer labels
and radio stations, and that's cutting off access to music buyers for a
lot
more artists."
If that's true, it suggests that in the past as long as record labels
jerked
around relatively obscure artists with few resources, like Dumptruck,
there
was little incentive for more successful musicians to take on the labels.
However, consolidation has cut off radio access not just for smaller
artists
but also for wealthy, well-established, middle-aged mainstays. They have
money and influence, and that may be why legal and legislative fur is
starting to fly around the musicians' rights issue.
Meanwhile, Seth Tiven has continued to write songs and make Dumptruck
records when he's not working full time as a computer programmer. He
claims
he's happy making a living outside of music because it allows him to have
complete artistic control over his music.
"Looking back on how things turned out, I certainly have some regrets
about
my time in the music industry," he says. "But I have no regrets about the
music I made. Besides, I know people who got screwed way worse than I did.
It just seems that the artist-record label relation****p is, by its nature,
adversarial."
Copyright © 2004, Chicago Tribune
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