The Vanguard Squad is an independent record label that releases the music of our friends. Beyond music, our Proletariat Press offers something for those who enjoy reading. While we publish few releases in print, we have reams available online. Topics vary wildly, and we quite like it that way.

We have no intention of being part of the "industry," but we are industrious. That is to say, we look at this business as an outlet for creativity. Sure, we need to make profit, but profit is not the reason why we are in business. The truth is we could make more money washing cars than making records. The satisfaction of playing music and making records, however, is unique, and that is enough.

Our business philosophy is very simple: Don't behave like an asshole. If anything, the record industry shows us just how we don't want to behave. Making a decision to be independent affords us the luxury of conducting business however we see fit; we can work with companies whose principals are similar to ours; we can release records that we love, and even though the audience may be small to begin with, we can make our friends' art available for people who may be late in hearing about it; we can make decisions based on creative impulse rather than profit--all these decisions wouldn't fly with a major record label. We contend that the bands are the ones with a genuine stake in making records. The art will bear their name for a lifetime, and it's up to them to answer for it.

Memorable records are the result of crazy singlemindedness. Strategists and committees do not make good records. Following the preconceptions of others may prevent "mistakes," but aren't there enough errorless, predictable, mistake-free records cluttering record shelves already? Trying to predict what people want to hear and then squeezing someone's music inside that idea seems ridiculous. We don't want our friends to be forced to consider what imaginary people want, what is going to sell or what is hot. Besides, telling someone what is best for them is behavior reserved for schmucks.

So, with no consideration for "the audience," and no pushy A&R dude from the label telling them what they're supposed to sound like, the bands can feel free to make the record they dream of making. Likewise, we as a label won't force-feed these records down the throats of everyone on earth. Rather, we'll let folks decide on their own what they think, and let them tell their friends.

• • • [As an aside, there are a few reminiscently record-related points--points I feel obligated to draw attention to, even though, if you've made it this far, they may be obvious--that illustrate the general principles discussed here. If you'll indulge me?] I can still remember, vividly, the first time I heard the Bad Brains. My sister's boyfriend, Charlie, who was several years my senior, knocked on my bedroom door (likely prompted by a fight with my sister), and asked if I wanted to go the Deli House and get a sandwich. Who doesn't enjoy a Deli House sandwich? His white El Camino had an impressive stereo, on which we listened to the ROIR tape really fucking loud. I realized the music's significance immediately, if only by Charlie flailing wildly. Honestly, I found it a bit, well... noisy. I didn't want to seem square, since Charlie was older than me (and by default, the conveyor of wisdom), so I nodded along--flailing mildly. During the course of his relationship with my sister, Charlie bestowed on me several cassette tape compilations of bands he thought I might like. Those tapes, specifically those bands, changed me forever. (Read more about Charlie and punk rock and butch dykes and Whitney Houston.) It started with punk rock, as punk abided weirdos, queers, fallen Trekkies, comic book collectors, the mohawk set, criminals, the ordinary kids and us quiet types. From there, the passage to other schools was easy. Clearing that first hurdle--seeing genuine perversity as inspiration instead of a laughable spectacle--is tricky. Hearing that Bad Brains tape for the first time was off-putting. It was funny and peculiar, unlike anything I had heard up to that point, and consequently, "bad." Bad, yes, but compelling enough to make me listen again. The second time was different. It was halfway over before I realized how much I was enjoying it. Punk rock was my gateway drug to the world of innovative art. From the germ of Bathory and Discharge sprouted the voice of my time, an anthemic angel, (extra)ordinary butchers, genuine protest singers, orchestrators of the un-notatable, urban proctologist and the vilified virtuosi. I don't want to speak for the others involved in this label, but they are my friends and I know artists that were utterly consumed by impulse have similarly influenced them. As is the case with such a movement, there's no way it can be externally defined. My exposure to--and life within--this world means different things to me than to others similarly involved, I'm sure. What started with listening to the tapes Charlie gave me became a mind-set and lifelong involvement with independent mores, and a desire to start our own label and document our community, not for profit or fame, but for the unique experience--unlike anything else--that we get from it. • • •

Since we're a small operation, and we only release the music of our friends, our label is different from most in that it isn't specific to any one genre. It may seem odd then, for someone perusing our catalog, to hear a Portuguese ballad next to an outsider soul home recording next to a droning goth tune next to some militant anthem next to a field recording of molecules. Perhaps it is odd, but isn't that a reflection of the interests one accumulates over a lifetime? This label, then, is a reflection of lifetimes. We've all lived different lives, but we're all connected in some way. Our tastes and interests are intertwined, and I see this reflected in our musical catalog.

While our numbers are few, we're fortunate to draw so much inspiration from our friends. My favorite albums were made by the people who are on our label. While other folks may look all over for inspiration, we have to look no further than our friends. It's with this in mind that we've been lucky enough to have learned so much from one another, that we--as a label--take great care in honoring our friends by making their records something that they are delighted to have made, and helping them make those records available to you.

Beyond releasing records, we operate Proletariat Press, which is the official organ of Vanguard Squad. We offer printed matter occasionally, while the online version of Proletariat Press page is updated regularly. We've released one samizdat-style chapbook, Dissidence Begins Within, in accompaniment to our debut 45. We're working on a handful of printed works for future release, including, a book of short stories to be released in accompaniment of the Eniktin debut album; a biophysicist's essay on Myosin V (an efficient processive molecular motor) published alongside a field recording of the same; a newspaper of articles relating to agitational art; a full-color book of record-related collages, inspired by Dadaist, Surrealists, Minimalists, and those Choose Your Own Adventure books.

Vanguard Squad also operates as a charitable company, allocating about 20 percent of our income and time each year to serving our community. In 2005 we made our first release a benefit for The Freedom Archives (a San Francisco organization dedicated to preserving resistance-related history) and The Integrated Holistic Approach Urban Development Project (IHA-UDP) (an organization in Tsega's hometown of Addis Ababa, Ethiopia, that helps the impoverished). Immediately following Hurricane Katrina, we curated an auction, asking record collectors from around the world to donate one of their rarest records for charity. The auction lasted about a month, in which time we sold over 300 records raising more than $100,000 for Katrina victims. In 2007, we will start with focusing on one man, Mingering Mike. We will release Mike's first ever 45 single some 38 years after it was written. The profits from this recording will go directly to Mike. While we won't tout our charitable work (Lao-Tzu warned us "...abandoning humility while seeking to lead will only lead to greater trouble..."), we believe it is a cornerstone of our enterprise (the apostle James also warned us that "... faith without works is dead."). Just as we've been shown by other great independent labels, profit is necessary for business but not the reason for business.

As much as the underground music scene is a place of empowerment and exchange, there is only so much change and a limited community it affects. This is why we feel it is important to be a part of our community at large. With our friends (our labelmates) spread all over the place, our community is likewise wide spread. This allows us to work within several communities at once. With modern technology, we're able to extend our community through the Internet, interacting with people all over the world. We realize we've got it easy, having money to make records, tour, own computers, have access to modern technology. It's a privilege, and such privileges can be used to squelch the voice of change, or they can be a bastion for change.

The Vanguard Squad is owned and operated by Tsega (a.k.a. Asprin) and myself (Bambouche (pronounced Bam•boo•shay)). Tsega and I met in Portland, Oregon, in 2001, when I was working in an office with his girlfriend. She noticed I was having records shipped to the office and said, "My boyfriend collects records, too." Tsega and I met during lunch hour a few days later, talked for a few minutes and have been tight ever since. During those early years, Tsega and I spent most of our free time together, much of it record shopping. During those long hours sifting through junk shops and used record stores, we talked about our seemingly different lives and discussed our interests for the future, including starting a record label. In 2003, I moved to New York to be nearer the woman I love while Tsega and his girlfriend moved to Los Angeles to be nearer the warmer waters of the Pacific. We launched the label from both ends of the country, FTPing graphics back and forth, playing each other songs over the phone and emailing constantly. We rarely see each other, but we talk more often than two high school girls.

All of us involved in the label enjoy lives full of the love of family and friends as well as careers, so the work we do for Vanguard Squad is usually scheduled around those other things. If, by coincidence, six of us finish records at the same time, we will release six records at once. If we seem to be at a lull, it's most likely just that we're all busy. We don't worry much about how much we're doing, but that what we're doing is what we want to be doing. You can be sure, though, that we're working.

Take care,
--Bambouche of the Vanguard Squad