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Matt Sullivan
January 31, 2017
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From the age of 16, when he was selected MD of his Bellevue, WA, 10-watt high school FM radio station KASB, Matt Sullivan knew he wanted a career in music. He interned at a Madrid-based reissue label, Munster Records/Vampi Soul, where owner Inigo Pastor taught him the business. In 2001, Sullivan founded Light In The Attic Records as a concert producer in his Seattle basement apartment after getting laid off at Real Networks. Going on 16 years later, he has built his company - with the help of partner (and grade-school friend) Josh Wright - into a multifaceted business that includes offices in L.A. and Seattle, distributing 50 "excellent" labels direct to more than 100 stores, and an expanded music licensing department with a team of supervisors, composers and consultants, who place both catalog tracks and original music in film, TV and commercials. And, late last year, the company opened a 180-square foot retail store at the brand-new KEXP Gathering Space in the shadow of the Space Needle in downtown Seattle.
LITA entered mainstream consciousness in 2012 when the label, which had re-issued forgotten Detroit musician Sixto Rodriguez's two albums four years earlier, rode the wave of success from the Oscar-winning documentary, "Searching For Sugar Man." The label licensed the CD/digital soundtrack rights to Sony Legacy, while releasing the vinyl edition of the soundtrack, which became the all-time best-seller in its catalog. The label's releases include cult heroes like its first-ever album by hip-hop progenitors The Last Poets, along with reissues from Lee Hazlewood, Serge Gainsbourg, Betty Davis, Digable Planets, Francoise Hardy, Jackie Mitoo, Jim Sullivan, Karen Dalton, "Lewis," Alan Vega, Lizzy Mercier Descloux, Terry Reid, The Shaggs and Tim Buckley, among others.
Your first experience in the business was being named MD of your high school radio station.
The teachers decided I was the only student who wouldn't steal the promotional CDs. That allowed me to talk to the record labels and get a little idea of what was happening in the business. It was a CMJ station, but I couldn't even hear it at my house, which was less than two miles from school. It's still there, though my teachers have long since retired. It changed my life. I don't know what I would've done otherwise. I then did college radio at University Of Arizona in Tucson. My idea all along was to do a label, but I wanted to release contemporary music. Working at Munster opened my mind up to archival music and reissues of stuff off the radar, but from the past. Before the Internet - with everything at your fingertips - you really had to work to find these things.
Your first release on LITA was an album by The Last Poets, the legendary precursors of hip-hop, with Vampi Soul, in 2002.
They'd never really received a reissue that was worthy of their legacy. A designer friend of mine, Scott Webber, put together a really nice package. Saul Williams wrote the liner notes and Public Enemy's Professor Griff contributed an essay, we included a Rolling Stone article from 1971.
Does the name come from Shel Silverstein's poetry collection?
I was a fan, but my girlfriend at the time suggested the name after I kept thinking about "Dusty Attic," where old records come from, like shining a spotlight on these discoveries. We've thought about reissuing his stuff, but a lot of it is already available. Our focus all along has been to take music we love and draw attention to it with new packaging, liner notes ... giving the context and its historical significance. That's important to us.
How did you come to reissue Rodriguez's two albums, '70's "Cold Fact" and '71's "Coming From Reality"?
Soundtrack producer David Holmes put out this compilation of favorite songs, which included a track, "Sugar Man," by Rodriguez, which caught my attention. We used to play it to death in the office. It just grabbed a hold and slapped us in the face. We reached out to the website, the South African one in the film, and got in touch with Stephen "Sugar" Segerman, who runs the Cape Town store Mabu Vinyl, and Brian Currin. They put us in touch with his daughter, Regan, and went to Detroit to meet with them.
Rodriguez must have been wary because of his previous business dealings, getting ripped off financially in South Africa.
With us, he was positive from the get-go. We had his full support. It was just winning [Sussex Records head] Clarence Avant over, which took ages. The documentary [by since-deceased Swedish filmmaker Malik Bendjelloul] was taking place parallel to this. My experience was that Clarence was always incredibly passionate about Rodriguez's music. And he was looking at me at this young kid; he didn't know whether to entrust me with the legacy after all these major labels refused to support his releases. It was a long, long process. I was absolutely stunned when he finally came around. These projects are often uphill battles, labors of love. If you stick with things and believe in yourself, and treat people with respect, things tend to work out. That's been my experience. Those are the top three sellers in our catalog. Rodriguez's two albums were selling nicely even before the film catapulted them to new heights. Malik created a masterpiece of a film, and I feel honored to have been a part of it. He'd show us the rough cut and ask, "Is it good enough to win an Oscar?" And I'd laugh and say, "It's good, but I don't know if it's that good." It's been an amazing ride for all of us. Seeing what's happened to Rodriguez's music has been more than I can fathom.
How has the new, streaming model affected the catalog business, where everything is at your fingertips?
There are more reissue labels now than ever before. Majors are more interested in catalog than signing new artists. There is still so much music that is not at your fingertips. I don't want unlimited choice; I want someone I trust to guide me through this, and point out the good stuff. That's where we come in, someone to steer the ship and help you find good music. The royalties from the streaming services are just so low right now. Ten dollars still seems a little low for access to millions and millions of tracks. The current 40 million or so paid Spotify subscribers needs to be more like 500 million for anyone to see any serious money. The major labels have such a stranglehold on things at this point. There's so much content on YouTube; it's a great discovery tool for music, but on the other hand, the revenue isn't remotely reaching the artist, even with the amount Google is reportedly paying.
Companies like Numero Uno out of Chicago are turning these releases into curated, limited edition art objects.
That's been our focus since day one, and we haven't changed at all in 15 years. While the catalog business has grown, I don't know how a new artist makes a living anymore.
LITA has dabbled in the new artist business, with The Black Angels and Nicole Willis.
We've released about a half-dozen new artists among our 200 albums in 15 years. We love new music; if we find something that blows us away, we're inspired to get that out in the world, regardless if it's new or old.
Are you committed to being independent, or would you entertain offers for the company?
We're committed to our independence. When I'm old and gray, maybe I'll go that route. But right now, what else am I going to do with my life? Other than family, this is why I wake up in the morning. I feel fortunate to do this.
What's your latest musical passion being released on the label?
I'm looking forward to the second edition of the Grammy-nominated historical recording "Native North America" series, a collection of Native Americans and First Nations people from Alaska and Canada playing folk and rock from the '60s through the '80s with beautiful socio/political commentary. The first volume was produced by a talented writer and historian named Kevin "Sipreano" Howes. This new volume will focus on the lower 48 states. We've narrowed it down to 38 tracks, which will be released on three LPs and two CDs, which probably won't come out until 2018. The themes are even more relevant today, in the age of the Dakota Access Pipeline and Trump. We're also compiling a series of releases on previously undocumented Japanese music from the '60s through the '90s, from rock to electronic, psychedelic, pop, soul ... it's all over the map, 150 songs over four or five releases. It's a bottomless well, some really unique material, not just copies of western music.
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