John Thompson

The night air was especially still along the western end of Belmont Avenue on the eve of the Super Bowl, as if every molecule of the ether had succumbed to the subzero temperatures and frozen in place. A typically extreme Chicago winter had arrived. The forbidding conditions forced all the residents of Lakeview onto the warm sides of windows; the sidewalks were empty except for the occasional windblown scraps of trash scraping along the concrete like urban tumbleweeds. Beat Kitchen, a bar and music venue standing out among abandoned storefronts and residential buildings, offered a refuge from the biting cold, but only for ticket-holders to the evening's rock show. An impromptu white sign on the door informed would-be walk-in traffic that the performance, co-headlined by the Flameshovel Records success stories Maritime and Chin Up Chin Up, was sold out and room was wanting--sorry. Inside, the crowd filling the packed space was neatly divided between curious bar regulars in the back and indie fans, all tweed and thick-framed glasses, pressing the stage. Jesse Woghin, bassist for Chin Up Chin Up and co-owner of Flameshovel Records, beamed beside the merchandise tables, noting, "It's really really cold outside, but it doesn't seem to have deterred anyone from coming out." Meanwhile, Maritime closed out its set and Chin Up Chin Up prepared to start. In the interim, fans offered words of praise to members of each band and newcomers wondered aloud at how good Maritime was. "These guys just sound so... professional." "If these guys are playing first, then the last band must be really good!" "Maritime means, like, something to do with the sea, right?" Next to the shadowed bar, one guy muttered something unintelligible about the Strokes and Mars Volta to a beautiful blonde; an underage drinker was led out of the venue by a burly man in a pageboy cap. Eventually, singer Jeremy Bolen let everyone know that Chin Up Chin Up was about to start: "Uh, I don't know if anyone noticed, but it's really cold outside..." The bar regulars went silent with anticipation; the indie kids cheered.

Every whoop served as an exclamation point emphasizing the latest success of these two bands, but the crowded scene, with avid fans and evermore convinced initiates alike enjoying the music, was a mere anecdotal footnote to the saga of the upstart Midwest indie label, Chicago-based Flameshovel Records, that has been making bands like Chin Up Chin Up nationally popular while maintaining the fame of longtime stars like Davey von Bohlen and Dan Didier (both formerly of the juggernaut Promise Ring) in Maritime for the past six years. Flameshovel's story follows a classic narrative taken straight from Horatio Alger: two friends, Jesse Woghin and James Kenler, through hard work, some help from strangers and a little luck, start a small project to help some underappreciated bands release records and turn it into a long-term professional undertaking that has been recognized by the Chicago Tribune as one of ten local labels that still matter. But Flameshovel's greatest success might be that, by launching the careers of the best local bands and continuing those of the region's preeminent talents, Flameshovel has helped turn Chicago into a music scene that still matters, which is why the tale of this record label is very much the story of a city reclaiming its place in the rock universe.

Flameshovel's headquarters are located in a humble space above the Empty Bottle on Western Avenue, accessed by a side door with a broken buzzer and up a flight of ancient steps. The walls are fittingly doused in a muted orange; the entrance area is strewn with couches and seating filled by an army of interns. In the office area, where the windows face the street, Woghin and Kenler are busily occupied at their desks, answering emails and phone calls and "putting out fires," as Woghin says, surrounded by tour posters and the miscellaneous bric-a-brac of office life.

Woghin, 28, and Kenler, 27, are the yin and yang that power the dynamo at the center of Flameshovel's success. Woghin is the talkative and earnest member of two label bands--Chin Up Chin Up and The Narrator--with wild hair and a warm, excited demeanor. Kenler is relaxed and deliberate, with cropped hair and a voice that reminds you, vaguely, of that professor in college who humored your inquiries but who you knew would always be the smarter between the two of you. The duo, acquaintances since high school on Long Island and later friends at Oberlin College in Ohio, teamed up in the twilight of 2001 once Kenler joined Woghin in Chicago and just prior to the exit of Noah Mewborn, Woghin's original partner, who left for Philadelphia to finish grad school in early 2002. Flameshovel (the name comes from "a nod to a friend's nod to the greater musical abyss and a gift from the ether," Woghin writes) was started on a whim as a means to release material by the Detroit-based band Judah Johnson. "They were looking for someone to release some stuff they'd done and they were really good friends of mine. One of the guys I played in a band with in college," Woghin says. "I was working a job I didn't really like all that much ... I was making a decent wage, wasn't spending that much and had saved up some money, so I said, `Well, I'll do it.'" Releases from Judah Johnson and Chicago band Viza-Noir were pressed and distributed shortly thereafter in the summer of 2001. Kenler arrived in September, Mewborn left within a year, and the foundation of Flameshovel Records was in place.

Flameshovel's impulsive beginning--conceived largely in ignorance of how the record business, or business in general, works--required a lot of homework for the label's evolution since. Most of the label's decisions have been informed by advice from industry veterans that Woghin befriended during time spent interning with Insound.com, contacts who also worked with Tiger Style Records. "It was just asking a lot of questions essentially. It was really just like trial by fire," Woghin says of the early days. "My friend at Insound got us our first couple of distributors because he did sales at Insound, so he just sort of asked [us if we wanted these distributors] and it was like, `Yeah, sure.' So from there we just started figuring out little things. We even just started emailing people at labels we respected for advice."

"We had pretty much all good experiences with that, too," Kenler chimes in. "No one was really guarded about their information... People were really willing to help us." Bettina Richards at Chicago stalwart Thrill Jockey Records and Isaac Green at StarTime International Records in New York were cited as especially helpful.

Even with that help, Woghin and Kenler still endured a few trials teaching themselves the trade. "When James came on he was sort of instrumental in saying, `Hey, I'm pretty sure you have to do all these things to operate a business,' and we [Woghin and Mewborn] were like, `Oh, maybe we should check that out,'" Woghin recalls with a chuckle. "Then we met with an accountant and then we met with a bank, then we sort of read a book and then sort of figured out the formal process of becoming a business." Toward the beginning, the label remained a part-time venture while its owners worked day jobs for living wages. "We were pretty much running it out of the [commercial real estate] office that I worked at and my apartment," Woghin recalls. "I was able to burn CDs and steal photocopies and shit [from the office] at night." He adds, "They loved me there for reasons no one can explain." Then, quietly amused: "I don't know anything about commercial real estate."

Flameshovel may have been relegated to forever distributing records for obscure bands from the dark of real estate offices were it not for a chance friendship and a leap of faith that landed Make Believe, the latest project from avant-indie champion Tim Kinsella, on Flameshovel's roster in 2003.

"I think that Make Believe was a huge, huge boost in credibility," Woghin states with a wide-eyed look.

"We were obsessively active at first with the songwriting," Make Believe's Bobby Burg explains of its early days. "We played our first show in December 2003. That was with Lungfish. We did two nights at the Fireside [Bowl] with them." By then, Burg had already met Woghin through mutual friends; the latter heard Make Believe's demo through the same friends and made an effort to see the second date with Lungfish.

"They thought they were awful. I thought they were wrong. I was hooked," Woghin says. After the show, he then began courting the band for Flameshovel.

Though Make Believe allowed Flameshovel to issue its first EP, a band with their profile would not be easy to hold on to. As Woghin explains: "When [Make Believe signed], we had been working with a lot of great bands that, really, no one had ever heard of at all before they set foot on the label. When we met [Make Believe] they had only been around for two months, but it didn't really matter because people knew who they were... It's interesting because the music they make is so stratifying--either you really love it or you really hate it--but at the very least you know about it." Make Believe took time to consider its options and make a decision. "The label we would be on, we wanted to be one of their priority groups," Burg explains. "I think that's why Flameshovel seemed like a really good idea." After inking the contract, Make Believe, who played over a hundred shows on its first EP alone, began to tour and raise Flameshovel's profile as a professional label with serious ambitions. "I'll always be really thankful to those guys because it was really just a leap of faith," Woghin says. "It really helped with attracting... a band like Chin Up Chin Up."

"[Chin Up Chin Up] basically told us outright that prior to signing Make Believe they probably wouldn't have taken us very seriously. That those guys decided to work with us really spoke to our credit," Kenler explains. That Chin Up Chin Up eventually signed with Flameshovel would prove instrumental in cementing the label's image as a maker and retainer of local talent.

Though the band moved to Suicide Squeeze Records in January 2006, Flameshovel sells its early catalog and continues to market its vinyl releases. In many ways, Chin Up Chin Up progressed alongside Flameshovel, each mirroring the other's growth. Flameshovel provided Chin Up Chin Up's first label deal and the band was Flameshovel's first bona fide national success. As Woghin notes: "The success of CUCU's first album, `We Should Have Never Lived Like We Were Skyscrapers,' really seemed to solidify our standing in the world of `I'm-A-Real-Boy-Now' record labels." Chin Up Chin Up formed in 2001, but did not release a record until 2002, when Bobby Burg's Record Label issued the band's first EP, which was then followed by the full-length "Skyscrapers" on Flameshovel in 2004. After the release of "Skyscrapers," the band rose to prominence as a complicated pop band complex enough to be different but catchy enough to satisfy, and was heralded as a work showing a band with a lot of potential. Jeremy Bolen, the lead singer and front man for CUCU, disputes that Make Believe's Flameshovel deal prompted his band to follow suit, but acknowledges that it could have weighed on their decision: "I had already met [Make Believe] and they were good friends of ours. I'm sure we had some influence on each other." More importantly, Flameshovel offered potential: "Jesse and James weren't trying to cut corners. They were really trying to make Flameshovel a big deal." Guitarist Nathan Snydacker concurs: "We obviously looked for a label that would work as hard on our records as we worked on them. Jesse and James work their asses off on that label." Chin Up Chin Up jumped to Suicide Squeeze last year in order to distribute more widely and gain more exposure on the West Coast--a circumstance Woghin and Kenler are particularly frustrated with--but the split with Flameshovel was and has remained amicable. After all, Woghin still plays bass for the band.

Among the bands that have signed on with Flameshovel, one of the most common observations about what sets Flameshovel apart from other labels is Woghin and Kenler's dedication and tenacity. Aside from what Chin Up Chin Up's members have to say, Bobby Burg mentions, "They really try their hardest to do exactly what the artist wants." Another point often made was that the label was a place for friends: "When we met with Jesse and James it was really genuine... It wasn't about managers and executives, but about friends putting out friends' records," says Dan Didier from Maritime, Flameshovel's best-selling band. Nathan Snydacker adds: "It's not overwhelming [with Flameshovel]. It's like being a family, like you're holding something together." Label headquarters are very much a local meeting place; Woghin claims that it is not unusual for band members to come to the office just to hang out.

The impression of Flameshovel as a friendly local label built from the ground up by hard work only reaffirms that Flameshovel is a local label in the fullest sense; it is not only in Chicago but very much a "Chicago" label, reflecting regional values of hard work while elevating Chicago talent to national prominence. While Flameshovel's roster boasts an impressive diversity of styles across the indie-rock spectrum, from the art-metal of Russian Circles to the pop-rock of Maritime, which prevents the label from being pigeonholed into any one genre, the overwhelming majority of Flameshovel's bands are from Chicago. The label's local focus is not for want of ambition or exposure; Flameshovel bands have received attention from Rolling Stone to Spin, from the San Francisco Chronicle to the New York Times. Rather, it may simply be that, in an age where the ability to make and disseminate music from anywhere has led to the dissolution of regional identities ("You could be in the farthest reaches of Montana and still be on the front lines for the next Clap Your Hands, Say Yeah," says Woghin), Flameshovel has reversed the trend, creating a sonic identity in a fluid musical landscape.

Rock mythology has always demanded authenticity in its music and in its image. Often, authenticity has been expressed through localization, hence "Britpop," "Bay Area punk," "DC hardcore" and the "Seattle sound" of the early nineties. In the modern era, where indie predominates as the rock subgenre of choice, most labels present themselves as marketers simply of the genre; Matador is famous for making indie superstars from all over, not for fostering some kind of New York "indie." Flameshovel and its artists, however, have re-inscribed local identification onto the music they produce. Chin Up Chin Up sings about urban desecration while evoking images of pastoral redemption and their band biography for "Skyscrapers" stakes their aesthetic on their Chicago background: "Look beyond the steely skyscrapers jutting into Chicago's grey sky, past the potholed streets and shadowed alleys, and you might be able to find something beautiful in this scuffed-up metropolis." The now defunct Lying In States made similar overtures to their hometown: "Lying In States have always had a love/hate relationship with the city that's surrounded them... They love the summers, but they hate the harsh abysmal winters. They love the cost of living, but they hate the cost of drinking." While the Flameshovel bands interviewed for this article point out that this is largely the unconscious residue of lived experience in the city, and that it would be naïve to think it was something contrived. Dan Didier from Maritime, otherwise full of praise for the label and its owners, notes: "The one negative about signing to Flameshovel was that all the bands were from Chicago. The label seems to have painted itself into a corner so to speak." But the success of Flameshovel bands has meant the success of bands with a distinctly Chicago identity.

The finest exemplar of the Flameshovel aura may be Bound Stems, a Chicago buzz band whose first Flameshovel full-length, "Appreciation Night," made waves nationally both for being a breathtaking pop success and for literally incorporating Chicago into its being. Many of the songs are augmented by found sound, recordings of overheard conversations and various sounds from around the city. Evan Sult, drummer for the band, comments: "The album felt very immediate and very alive. It needed to have those sounds. Some of the first sounds are of a bicycle and a train and footsteps and they are mainly local sounds, but we're not making a guidebook; these sounds are part of being alive." He continues: "I think that Flameshovel is very good at listening for good music. They aren't trying to sign bands that will write universal anthems." His final words serve as a ringing endorsement of a label with loads of potential and a fitting conclusion for that label's image as a Chicago representative of Chicago successes: "Flameshovel is the reason you've heard of us or anyone's heard of us... Any attention we've received, it is because of Flameshovel... I'm proud of being in the [New York] Times on Flameshovel Records."

(2007-02-13)

Also by John Thompson

Academic All-American
The Seminary Co-op Bookstore sits at the bottom of a set of gray stairs, polished to sheen from years of wear, in the basement of the Chicago Theological Seminary across the street from the main quadrangles of the University of Chicago in Hyde Park
(2007-01-23)

Scheming Pyramids
When you listen to a song by Chicago art-pop outfit Pit Er Pat, you really can't figure out what's exactly happening. With swirling organ tones, organic bass lines, unconventional drumming and Fay Davis-Jeffers' gentle, unobtrusive vocals, a typical track from Pit Er Pat sounds like a deconstructed lullaby
(2007-01-02)

Tip of the Week
At the forefront of Columbus, Ohio's indie rock scene sits Melty Melty, a band that mixes electronic blips with laidback guitar lines (a la Pinback) and "found sound," various sound bites including radio addresses and vocoded weather forecasts (a la Bound Stems)
(2006-12-05)

Apocalypse Now
"If the future is the apocalypse," Bridgeport native and artist Ed Marszewski declaimed to the New York Times in February, "then Bridgeport is the community of the future"
(2006-05-02)

Critical Music
(2006-03-28)

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