Welcome to today's Deep Dive, everyone. I am
really excited about this one because we're looking
at a story that is just wild. Oh, it's absolutely
fascinating. Right. So we are digging into this
really detailed source material today, specifically
a Wikipedia article outlining the history of
the American OI and street punk band The Antiheroes.
Which is such a specific and intense subculture
to explore. It really is. And the mission for
today's Deep Dive is to explore how an independent
band navigates the incredibly treacherous waters
of the music industry. We're gonna look at how
they fought a major Hollywood studio to protect
their identity and how they managed to maintain
a legacy that spans literally decades. Yeah,
and to really understand the mechanics of this
story, we need to... established the foundational
facts from the source. So the anti -heroes formed
in Georgia back in 1984. Which, just right off
the bat, Georgia in the 80s is a very specific
scene. Exactly. And the original lineup consisted
of Mark Noah on vocals, Mike Jones on bass, Tim
Spear on drums, and Joe Winograd on guitar. Okay,
let's unpack this. Because when you say they're
an oi and street punk band... Some people listening
might not know exactly what that means. Right,
that's fair. For you listening, even if you aren't
a punk rock fan, this is a totally universal
story. It's really about the struggle to maintain
ownership over your hard work and your personal
reputation. Yeah, it's about control. Exactly.
But to answer your question, OI is a sub -genre
that started in the UK. in the late 70s. It was
essentially a working -class reaction to mainstream
punk, which a lot of kids felt was getting too
commercialized. Like it was losing its edge.
Yeah, getting disconnected from everyday reality.
Musically, it's very raw, very aggressive, lots
of driving rhythms and these huge stadium -style
sing -along choruses. Oh, like football chants?
Spot on. And street punk is just the closely
related American derivative of that. the whole
ethos is just rooted in working class solidarity
and like really fierce independence. Which brings
us to the late 1980s because that independence
got tested pretty much immediately. It really
did. So the band releases two records on a label
called Link Records. You've got the album that's
right in 1987 and then Don't Tread on Me in 1988.
Both of these were produced by John Blackwell,
right? Correct. And it's also worth noting that
right around this time, in 1988, Phil Solomon
actually stepped in to replace Tim Spear on drums.
OK, got it. But I really want to focus on the
business side of those two Link Records releases,
because the source material points out something
that is just infuriating. Oh, the financial arrangement.
Yes. The band members actually paid to produce
these recordings themselves. out of their own
pockets. But the manager of Link Records, Mark
Brennan, never paid the band for them. Yeah,
they got completely stiffed. It's unbelievable.
When I read that, it felt like an unpaid internship
where you actually pay the company to work there.
That's a great way to put it. Right. It's like
you go to the store, you buy all the ingredients,
you spend hours baking a cake, and then you just
hand it over to a bakery. And then you have to
stand there and watch them sell it to customers
without giving you a single dime. What's fascinating
here is just the severe imbalance of power between
independent artists and record labels in the
1980s. I mean, we really have to put ourselves
in that era. Because it wasn't like today where
you just upload an mp3. Exactly. Making a record
in 1987 required pure dedication. You had to
buy expensive analog tape. pay for studio time,
hire an engineer, and then pay a manufacturing
plant to physically press the vinyl. Which is
a massive financial risk for a working class
band. A huge risk. And the labels knew that they
held the keys to the castle. If you didn't have
a label to physically distribute your record
to stores, nobody was going to hear it. So the
labels could afford to be predatory. Which makes
what happens next make a lot of sense. The story
organically shifts here, from the band being
exploited to them just taking control of their
own destiny. Yeah, if you can't trust the suits,
you become the boss. Exactly. So Mark Noah, the
vocalist, he ends up owning GMM Records. And
GMM didn't just release anti -heroes material,
they became this massive hub. They really did.
They released early recordings for the Dropkick
Murphys, which is a huge deal. Oh yeah, massive
band. And also legendary acts in the scene like
Iron Cross, Oxymoron, Agnostic Front, the Ducky
Boys, the Templars, and One Way System. So what
does this all mean? We know Noah got burned by
Link Records. Is it safe to assume that Sting
was the exact catalyst for him starting GMM Records,
ensuring other punk bands had a fair platform?
I think that's absolutely the case. It's a classic
pivot. You move from being a victim of a broken
industry to becoming a facilitator for others.
He built his own supply chain. Exactly. GMM Records
became a crucial incubator for the street punk
and noise scene. Noah gave these bands a way
to distribute their music without having to navigate
these sketchy, exploitative middlemen. That is
so smart. But, you know, taking control of your
business is one thing, controlling your physical
distribution. But how do you control your image
when Hollywood steps in and misrepresents you
to millions of people? Ah, yeah. This is where
the story takes a really dramatic turn. Here's
where it gets really interesting, because in
1998 New Line Cinema releases the film American
History X. A huge, very intense movie. Very intense.
And without the band's permission, their logo
was used in the film. And we need to be very
clear about the context here. based strictly
on what the sources tell us. Right. So the film
deals heavily with neo -Nazi and white supremacist
characters. And the studio used the anti -heroes
logo on one of those characters. Which was a
massive issue. Yeah. Because the band had a very
vocal admonishment of racism. Right. They were
strictly against it. Completely. But the issue
was that some fans and some outside observers
associated oy music with white supremacist ideals.
The scene had a history of these groups trying
to infiltrate and co -opt the music. But the
band strictly did not want to be associated with
that. Exactly. They hated it. So to have a major
Hollywood studio broadcast, that false association
to the entire world was a worst case scenario.
Imagine you design a logo for your local neighborhood
watch, right? You're trying to protect your community.
and suddenly a massive movie studio uses that
exact logo on the villain's uniform in a blockbuster
film. It completely perverts your original intent.
Exactly. So what do they do? Most people would
just write an angry zine article or complain
at a show. But the anti -heroes sued New Line
Cinema. Which is just incredible. This raises
an important question about the tension between
an artist's true intent and how their art is
co -opted. Yeah, whether by a toxic fan base
or a massive media entity. Right. And you really
have to highlight the incredible bravery here.
This is a small punk band from Georgia. taking
on a giant studio like New Line Cinema in federal
court. And they actually won. That's the best
part. They won. The lawsuit resulted in their
logo being removed from all subsequent releases
of the film. Which means New Line had to physically
go back and alter the movie for future VHS and
DVD releases. It's a huge victory for independent
artists everywhere. It really is. But I mean,
fighting industry exploitation in the 80s, running
a label and then battling Hollywood in the 90s,
that is a grueling trajectory. Oh, the burnout
must have been intense. Yeah, and it makes sense
that the band's timeline gets a bit fragmented.
Like, the sources show they took an early hiatus
from 1989 to 1993. Right, they needed a break
pretty early on. And then there are lineup changes.
We mentioned Phil Solomon joined on drums in
88. Well, in 1997, he actually left the band.
And he was replaced by Mark McCloskey, right?
Yep. Mark McCloskey took over. And then later
on, Don Schumet took over percussion. So there's
this constant shuffling, which is pretty normal
for underground bands. Absolutely. Touring in
a van takes a toll. But the biggest... This gap
in their history is staggering. They took a massive
21 -year hiatus from live performances. Two decades
away from the stage. Yeah. Which finally ended
with a comeback show on May 27, 2023. And not
just a show, they released a new album, Devil
at My Heels, in 2024. That is true longevity.
But I have to push back a little here. Stepping
onto a stage to play aggressive street punk after
21 years away isn't exactly like riding a bicycle.
No, definitely not. It's incredibly physical
music. Right. So what keeps a band's fire burning
for two decades off the stage? If we connect
this to the bigger picture, it really speaks
to the enduring nature of punk rock. For these
guys, it wasn't just a youthful phase or a fashion
statement. It's an identity. Exactly. It's a
lifelong commitment to those ideals. The fact
that they dropped devil at my heels in 2024 proves
their creative engine never fully shut down.
The world might have changed. But their perspective
and their drive didn't. That is so well said.
It really brings the whole journey into focus.
Because if we recap what we've covered today,
the anti -hero story is just unbelievable. It
covers so much ground. They go from paying to
produce their own music and getting stiffed in
1987 to saying, you know what, we'll just build
our own label. Right. Starting GMM records and
lifting up other bands. Exactly. And then they
sue a Hollywood juggernaut over their anti -racist
convictions and force them to edit a blockbuster
movie? And then, after all that, they return
to the stage after a 21 -year absence to drop
new music. For you listening, this story is a
literal masterclass in resilience. Whether you're
in business, making art, or just navigating your
personal life, protecting your brand and standing
by your principles is always worth the fight.
Nobody is going to protect your work for you.
You have to be willing to throw the punches yourself.
And before we wrap up this deep dive, I want
to leave you with a final thought to ponder.
We talked a lot about that 1999 lawsuit against
New Line Cinema. Right, the logo removal. Yeah.
In 1999, you could sue a studio to edit a logo
out of future VHS and DVD releases because media
was physical. But think about today's era of
instant streaming, viral screenshots, and permanent
Internet archives. Oh, that's a wild thought.
Right. If a movie wrongly used an independent
artist's logo today, would a lawsuit ever truly
be able to erase that association from the public
consciousness? Even if you win in court, can
you ever really scrub something from the internet
once it goes viral? That is a terrifying question
for any creator today. Something for you to mull
over. Thank you all for joining us on this deep
dive.