I first saw Stones Throw Records owner Chris Manak DJing 45 records as Peanut Butter Wolf more than a decade ago in a dank Seattle club. While he rarely made eye contact with the audience during his performance, he dug through his record cases with unconcealed glee. He was a shy type whose subdued and yet surly attitude was somewhat compelling. He didn’t seem to be an introvert, or an extrovert either, really. He wasn’t punk or shy for the usual rebellious sake of alienating people. There was a struggle taking place, a struggle that wasn’t appreciable by those who weren’t inquisitive. There was a reason he sought out the far reaches of popular culture. He collected and played obscure 45 records plundered from global flea markets. He donned strange haberdashery that had nothing to do with trendy headwear. He spent thousands pressing vinyl that had no apparent revenue potential.
If you were paying close enough attention, the subtext seemed to read: the hype isn’t what makes the music. The money, the scene, and the popularity aren’t what make movements. What compels and inspires is usually at odds with mass culture. It’s adjacent. It’s perpendicular. It’s genuine and difficult. And it might not make you rich.
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