So this guy gets involved with punk music, and he gets a band together and they start getting bigger and bigger, and soon they are a big independent act. And finally they sign to a huge record corporation and their record spends some time as the number one album in the nation. In the end he gets access to more money then he could ever imagine, and there is no limit to all the drugs and women he can have, only he is married and life is wonderful, but this guy's name is Kurt Cobain and he turns a shotgun to his head and blows his brains all over the wall. I get up on a Saturday morning and I read about it in the paper, and some record executive says some thing like, "this is a terribly sad day for the music industry." And at the end of the article it talks about his wife, Courtney Love, and it mentions that she is unavailable for comment because she is being consoled by her attorney.

And there it is right in front of me. I've been trying to figure out what I could possibly say about major labels that isn't already being said by countless other people who consider themselves articulate. The truth is that this article in the fucking Los Angeles Times says it all. These people have everything. They have all the money, all the fame, all the success. They live the rock'n'roll fantasy every fucking day of their lives. But the fantasy is a cyanide pill just waiting to kill. Money and fame and power and success cannot buy you happiness. Rich people kill themselves because they are lonely and their lives suck. If wealth could buy you happiness then wealthy people would be happy, but it can't, and they're not. Switzerland, for example, is one of the most affluent countries, and it has one of the highest standards of living, and, correspondingly, it has one of the highest suicide rates in the world. There is a connection between suicide, loneliness and wealth. When you go to your attorney for condolence after your husband has just blown his face all over your new house, then you know you are truly alone.

I believe that it is possible to live a life worth living. But in order to achieve that life you have to have self-respect, friendship, and pride in what you do. The hardcore punk that I know and love won't make you rich, and it won't make you famous, but it will teach you about self-respect and integrity, and it will introduce you to people that you will be able to call friends, and it will give you a hobby or a talent or an activity that you can control and take pride in. I'm not trying to say that Kurt's death was decided by the success of his band, but I have to wonder what life would be like when every young girl wants to suck your dick, and every suit'n'tie wants to ream you for a wad of cash, and every kid you meet wants to use you as a key to the castle of rock'n'roll.

Punk rock isn't about using people for selfish motives. Punk rock is about doing things you love. Punk rock is about getting in a band and traveling around the country and meeting new people and building foundations and knowing that these new friends aren't after your money or your fame or your image. Punk rock is about people. And punk rock is about trying to get away from the bullshit of a music industry based on the maximization of profit at any cost. When that poor fuck said that it was a sad day for the record industry all I could think of was the fact that no one in the industry really gave a shit about this so-called "icon" and ultimately the only ones that were probably sad were the accountants and bankers that would miss out on all the loot that Kurt's band would have brought in with their future releases.

Our society is so fucking warped and twisted. We place more value on money and things and fame then we do on self-respect, friendship and pride in quality work. Money has no value in the real world where life and death are determined. The real world is that place where we have to interact with the rest of our species. The real world can be a lonely place. It can be the sort of place where no one cares if you live or die, and sometimes you no longer care. Money and fame and pretty things can't appease that loneliness.

When bands sign to major labels they always say it is for "wider distribution" and they wave the flag of reaching new audiences, but that is a bunch of crap. The real reasons are the same ones that most of our parents use when they take jobs they don't like or work longer hours then they want to, and the reasoning is just the same when we change our clothes to get better paying jobs and hold our tongue in fear of angering our boss and endangering our job. Everyone has to do what they have to do, and if you decide to sell your band to some major label for a wad of cash and that "wider distribution" you are so eager to get, then go right ahead. Just remember that if you sell your self-respect, if you find that you can't tell your friends from the leeches, and if you lose the pride you have in what you do then you are no different then the kids you grew up with whose dreams consisted of well paying jobs in tall shiny offices, a house with a two car garage, a couple of cars, a white picket fence, membership in the local fitness club, a spouse, a couple of kids, and a whole lot of cash to buy pretty things.

In the twelve years that I have been listening to this music we call punk I have learned a lot about self-respect. I learned to appreciate myself, and how to do things for myself. I learned what it meant to bridge the distance between spectator and participant. I learned that my opinions had value, and how to think for myself. And I learned how to put on shows, to be in a band, to put out 'zines, to start a record label, and to do anything I want. I believe in myself. Punk rock taught me that.

And in these twelve years I have met many people. Some of these people have become my good friends, my closest lovers, and ultimately some of them became my enemies. These people took me for who I was. It wasn't about fame, or fortune, or any of the illusions that money can create. My friendships have been about people and who we are as people. I have always been able to see the difference between a friend and a leech. That line always remains clear. In the punk community there is a rough sort of equality. There isn't much hero worship and there isn't too much ass licking. For the most part people either like you or hate you, and they don't lie about it or try to manipulate you for their own benefit. I want to be liked for who I am, not for what I can give you.

And, finally, over the course of all these years I learned what it meant to be proud of what I do. I take pride in my record label, the way I go about distributing the stuff I sell, and the way I treat people. I am proud of the 'zines I do and the words I have written, and I am proud of what it all stands for. I enjoy getting up in the morning to go to "work." Work isn't a place where I serve my time, and punch the clock waiting for the weekend. I love what I do. It isn't work. It is a craft and an activity to be enjoyed. Right now I work at Ebullition full time, but when I worked full time as a janitor I often got through the day by looking forward to the mail that would be waiting at home and the orders to be filled. Having a band and taking pride in that band is no different. It feels good to have something of your own, something that you can put all your energy into. You take pride in it because it belongs to you and you put your everything into it to make it the best thing you possible can; not because you want to get a pot of gold but because you love doing it.

That's punk to me. That's life to me. If major labels start offering self-respect, solid friendships, pride in something well done, along with a sense of integrity and independence then I say go for it. If that was the case I would sell Ebullition to any major that would take it, but all I see them offering is a whole lot of shit. I don't want their money, their fame, or their false kiss ass society of parasites pretending to be my friends. Those things are worthless in my world, and I don't want to end up with a noose around my neck, or some poison in my body, or a needle in my arm, or the barrel of a shotgun in my mouth.