How Touch And Go Have Stayed Indie And Kept Their Artists Happy For 25 Years Running

The Butthole Surfers were shitstain, self-absorbed proto-fascists," says Steve Albini from his recording studio in Chicago, Illinois, about why the Texan spazz-punks sued Touch And Go in 1999 for more royalties on their back catalog. "It was a completely paranoid, stupid move on their part... If you pick a fight with the one guy who's been honest with you your whole career and set out to make conditions worse on yourself, then you should be able to succeed in that endeavor. Congratulations, you're fucked." Whenever a band has decided to leave Touch And Go, Albini has defended the label (home for each of his bands—Big Black, Rapeman and Shellac). "Basically every band that has left Touch And Go for greener pastures have kind of gotten what they deserve," he says. "And I'm not saying that to disparage the bands; I'm just saying there aren't really greener pastures than Touch And Go. You can't do better."

Rooted in D.I.Y. aesthetics, two Lansing, Michigan punk fanzine publishers—the Meatmen's Tesco Vee and friend Dave Stimson—started Touch And Go Rekords in 1981 when they released an album by their friends, Necros, from Dayton, Ohio. That band's bass player, Corey Rusk—a scraggily, soft-spoken adolescent—eventually took the label's reigns when Vee moved to DC in 1983. Co-releasing a record with Dischord, and inspired by bands like Black Flag that released their own records, Touch And Go maintained those D.I.Y. ethics, eventually releasing albums by crank-punks the Meatmen, Killdozer, Die Kreuzen and Negative Approach. Rusk financed the label by loading trucks and delivering pizzas, and eventually moved to Detroit with wife Lisa Pfahler to focus on the label in 1983.

Throughout Touch And Go's early years, and to this day, Rusk would "sign" artists with a verbal contract, agreeing to split each release's profits 50/50. As strange as it may sound now, this was common practice for indies back then. And although Touch And Go's contemporaries, Sub Pop and Matador, would eventually sign partial agreements with major labels in the mid-'90s, Rusk would remain independent throughout the alternative music boom.

Rusk first met Albini at a New Music Seminar in 1983, on a panel about "Young People Involved In The Music Scene" (according to Albini), which also featured Def Jam mastermind Rick Rubin and future Matador co-owner Gerard Cosloy. "Corey was 18, I was 19 and Rick Rubin was 20, or something like that," says Albini. "He introduced himself to me and said that if Big Black came through, and needed a show in Detroit, we should give him a call." After taking him up on the offer, Albini says the pair has been "the best of friends since 1983." Big Black eventually jumped labels, moving to Touch And Go, and subsequently released the noise-rock touchstone, Songs About Fucking, in 1987.

Despite Big Black disbanding immediately after its release, it would become Touch And Go's biggest selling record, not only in its year of release, but in each subsequent year. "You can make the most brilliant thing, but if it's not coming out in the year that that's what people are looking for and are hungry for, then it's gonna get overlooked," says Rusk, explaining its longevity. "I think Big Black were a brilliant, brilliant band, and that was an amazing record. It was the right time; that was what people wanted."

Similarly, the second album by a Louisville, Kentucky band that Albini had championed to Rusk did quite poorly in its first year. Slint's Spiderlands—an album that balanced stark, mathy indie rock with metallic influences—was a hard push to fans. "All the bands at the time were really loud like Laughing Hyenas and Big Black and stuff," says Slint guitarist David Pajo, reflecting on Slint's sound. "Our notion was to just get quieter instead of louder" They had approached everything as minimally as possible—the cover didn't even feature their name, because the band wanted to unanimously agree on every aspect. To make things worse, they—like Big Black—broke up around the album's release. "It was just this odd record by this band that had broken up," says Rusk. "But every single year since it came out, it just kept selling more and having more and more bands that were becoming popular that were name-checking Slint... Over the 15 years since that album came out, it's become one of our best-selling records, but that's such a rarity that it actually happens that way."

In 1989, Touch And Go relocated to a Chicago warehouse and Rusk's life turned bittersweet. He separated with his wife, Lisa, with whom he had established the label, and then founded Quarterstick to release albums by punk-rock lecturer Henry Rollins, post-rockers Rachel's and southwestern indie rockers Calexico, among others. "At the time, from what Corey was saying, Quarterstick was more oriented towards... more ambient or quieter music," says Calexico drummer John Convertino. "And our first record, Spoke, was very quiet, and I think he was thinking that would work better under that label. But [the two labels are] really pretty much the same."

That same year, Touch And Go started handling pressing and distribution deals for other labels. Rusk says, "I think your typical indie label is started by someone who is really passionate about music and hopefully has really good taste in music and finds cool bands to work with, but may not necessarily be the best person at the logistics or the business end of the record label. I felt that if we could supply that to some labels, that it would be good for all of us." They now work with several prominent indies including Merge, Thrill Jockey, Kill Rock Stars, Drag City and more.

Touch And Go's other big news for 1989 was signing the provocative Chicago noise-rock group the Jesus Lizard. Comprising members of likeminded Austin, Texas rockers Scratch Acid and Albini's Rapeman, the Lizard played abrasive, heated, Birthday Party-inspired screamers and had their own Iggy Pop in frontman David Yow. Although Rusk didn't immediately like the band's debut EP, Pure, he stuck it out when drummer Mac McNeilly joined the group. Their first full-length, Head, would put all worries to rest and start to push the Jesus Lizard into the mainstream. Yow was so dedicated to Touch And Go that, when approached by a major label looking to sign them at the height of grunge, his only terms were one album, one million dollars. "That was Atlantic, I think," says Yow, who currently does photo retouching in Los Angeles. The band stayed steadfast in their dedication to Touch And Go for many years, but when Yow and his wife considered having kids and they wanted to buy a house, the band decided sign to Capitol to release 1996's Shot. Yow admits, "I told Gary Gersh, who was running Capitol at the time, ‘This is a mistake. We're not gonna sell any more records. You're not gonna know how to market us. You're not gonna know what to do with us. This is not a good idea on your part. We're doing great because we're getting a fat chunk of money, so thanks a lot...' It turns out that I was right. We signed a three-record deal for a million bucks and after we did the second record, they finally went, ‘Ah, okay, you can go home, don't worry about making the third record.'"

One thing that remains consistent throughout all of Touch And Go's phases is that the bands consider the label a family. Since staff members remained at the label for years, and bands mostly picked whom they toured with, they developed strong bonds with one another. Much in the same way Albini had told Rusk he had to hear Slint's early work, Yow talked Rusk into checking out Dayton indie rockers Brainiac—a band that was unhappy with its deal on Grass Records, and whose guitarist, John Schmersal, would later form another Touch And Go band, Enon. Schmersal noticed that in the short time between Brainiac's debut and sophomore releases, the number of albums in Grass' catalog grew from the teens to the 60s, whereas, after 10 years, Touch And Go was barely cracking the hundreds. "It's like a label is putting out records," he says, "and how much can they really pay attention to a band with them putting out a ton of records at once?"

Since Rusk's business model has always favored artists—he's not releasing a compilation to celebrate 25 years, because he wants to dedicate time to his bands' upcoming albums—it seems all the more outlandish that artists would leave. Despite cultivating acts like Urge Overkill and the Butthole Surfers and, more recently, the Yeah Yeah Yeahs and TV On The Radio, the promise of big advances has lured them away. Although it hurt Rusk deeply at first, he's gotten better about it over the years. Because of differing precedents in state courts, Rusk lost the Butthole Surfers lawsuit. Despite making him depressed for a little over a year—this is the first time Touch And Go had ever been sued—he looked at it as an opportunity to stop working with the band. Why work with unhappy people? "I guess I always feel like once a band has that in their mind, that that's what they want," says Rusk, "if I guilted them into staying on Touch And Go, it would just be a situation none of us were happy about." It's that pragmatic, steadfast independence that has made Touch And Go unique among other indies. And he's been successful.

"I think it's terrific that he's been able to demonstrate that it works on a multi-million dollar scale as well as on a multi-hundred dollar scale," says Albini. "It's not like there was a conscious decision to stand in opposition to the mainstream music business, it's just that he came up with the right way to do it 25 years ago and there's been no reason to change."

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