Secret City marks a decade of family business
Watson, Thus Owls, Bulat among those who benefit from indie label
It was 2006, and Patrick Watson was ready to record what would become his breakthrough album. All he needed was someone to release it.
“I was looking for a label, and I couldn’t find one,” the Montreal artist says. “So Justin said, ‘I’ll just build you one.’ ”
Justin is Justin West, who built him Secret City Records, the organic, indie Montreal label. Ten years later, they are celebrating not just an anniversary, not just survival, but the propagation of a bygone ideal: a music business that beats with a human heart.
From its St-Urbain St. headquarters, the label oversees the careers of 13 idiosyncratic artists across almost as many genres, combining for 32 releases, a Polaris Music Prize (in 2007 for Watson’s Close to Paradise) and an array of Juno and Félix noms. When Secret City fêtes its anniversary Thursday at the Rialto as part of POP Montreal, it will do so as one of the few labels in history to have retained everyone it has ever signed. Watson, Basia Bulat, the Barr Brothers, Plants and Animals, Suuns, Owen Pallett, Jesse Mac Cormack, Leif Vollebekk, Diamond Rings, Daniel Isaiah, Miracle Fortress, Emilie & Ogden, Thus Owls — nobody leaves, because Secret City is home.
“It’s a different kind of place,” Watson says. “It’s family.”
Of course, founder West had the ideal example of “family business”: his father, Jim West, founder and president of venerable Montreal jazz label Justin Time. Thirty-odd years ago, the label was initially run out of the West home. “I remember when I was a kid, my parents would put me to bed, then my dad would be in the basement working while my mom was invoicing.”
Justin and Patrick had been friends for years when they had that 2006 discussion. Justin suggested his dad’s label, “but the brand was off, and Patrick didn’t feel it was a good fit.” Secret City was initially a sub-label, and only intended as a one-off. “But the album was successful,” says West.
And there was, frankly, a smoking hole where the record industry used to be. Secret City evolved to become an anomaly: a homemade, hands-on label in a post-music-biz world.
“I’ve known Justin since we were really young,” Watson says. “He’s super smart and super hard-working. And the business side suits the artist side. We’ve all played together, we’re all like that. In general, I find Montreal musicians are like that — nobody has a beef with anyone else.” And that vibe permeates the label.
Simon Angell, half of alt-folk musical married duo Thus Owls (with Erika Angell) and Watson’s former bandmate, was reached while “working on pre-production for something that will eventually be … something.” His own Secret City story is typical.
“If you just look at me in particular, I’ve been with them since the beginning, and not just with one band.” The No. 1 reason, “first and foremost, is Justin. I have never met someone in the music industry, on the business side, who has that level of positivity.
“Musicians often look at the business and feel, ‘Well. We’re all f---ed,’ ” Angell says. “One big word we can use is Spotify.” The subscription music service has been pilloried — by the great David Lowery of Cracker and Camper Van Beethoven fame, among others — for risible micro-underpayment of musicians.
“Without getting into too big a debate about the morality of (Spotify),” says Angell, “we’ve all seen how record sales have dwindled to nothing. Right from the beginning, Justin said: ‘We have to adapt.’ ”
As the record business was atomized, so was the cliché of louche rock-star indolence. In ye olden tymes, signing to a label meant you had “made it,” and artists effectively signed over their careers to their corporate masters while they struck the pose of being above the grubby machinations of commerce. But as a musician in this millennium, you are now a foot soldier in your own career.
“Totally,” says Angell. “I can’t just be ignorant and think that things just happen. And more and more, I realize it, how much I have to learn. On the positive side, I hold my own career in my hand. We have to be smarter about it. It’s not just about money, but about time and resources, targeted promotion and knowing who your audience is. I mean, if Adele asked us to open for her, that might be completely wrong for us.”
Watson and Angell both mention West’s diligence and creativity. “No matter what’s thrown in his face, he finds a way to forge ahead,” Angell says. “It sounds cliché, but there are no problems, only solutions.”
So those are business concerns. When Watson spoke about “taking risks,” it initially sounded as if he meant artistic ones. “Well, they go hand in hand for me,” he says. “I’m not someone who separates those things. And it’s easy to take risks when you’re working with someone who does things intelligently.”
Watson has first-hand experience in what used to be called career development — the idea that a label invests time and patience, rather than looking for the quick buck. “My records are the kind that grow on people. So I only really know three years after they’re
released. Adventures in Your Own Backyard (2012) was really popular in France, for whatever reason, and when we went back with Love Songs for Robots, our audience there had doubled.”
One thing West is not is an oldschool cigar-chompin’ mogul who wants the spotlight on himself as much as his artists. Genuinely averse to personal publicity, or even credit, he lavishly cites Simon Fauteux, Andrew Rose and Magali Ould for their role in Secret City’s success. “They’ve been tireless and invaluable throughout the label’s history,” he says. “This wouldn’t be possible without their level of commitment, and I’m very grateful.”
The anniversary will be accompanied by a compilation of more than 30 songs from the roster, due on Friday. The Montreal party is the second of four — West just returned from a London bash, and there will be one in Paris in October and Reykjavik in November as the label reaches out to international audiences. It will be a gathering of friends, and at publication time, the party was planned solely as that — not as a live performance.
Then again, “there are no plans for us to play, for now,” Watson says. “But we’ll see.”