Which reminds me of Con Edison. With our growing electric needs, our bills kept getting bigger, topping off at about $2,000 a month. We pay our bills on time-well, most of the time. Sometimes we’re a little late. But when you are a little late, they ask for an additional deposit to cover the risk of a possible default. We had already given Con Edison a few thousand precious dollars when they asked us to give them another $800 deposit. I paid the bill, but not the deposit. Of course, a turn-off notice appeared. I sent in letters and formal complaints, and I even went to the Con Edison office, explaining that we didn’t have the money for them to sit on, even if they paid 6 percent interest. What good does that do us if we plan to stay in business? That afternoon, a Friday at 5:45, a Con Edison guy came into the bar and said he was here to read the meters. He secretly turned off our juice. With a show in three hours, and four refrigerators full of beer, we had to run lots of extension cords down from our office upstairs, which had a separate residential account in my name. (I had moved out by this time.) We couldn’t do anything to get electricity until Monday morning. There is not much one can do with Con Edison except to say FUCK YOU, which I did every day on our calendar for November and December 1990.
We had our first American tour on the West Coast in the spring of 1991. We took three bands – Sonny Sharrock, Third Person, and Chunk – on the road to San Francisco, Eugene, Portland, Seattle, and Vancouver. It was fairly successful. The bands got lots of press, played for audiences bigger than they could draw on their own, and made a little money. We actually made some money, too, selling T-shirts and CDs along the way. The European experience had schooled us well in the art of touring. We also made a CD before the tour – Knitting Factory Goes to the Northwest – and used it for promotion and marketing of the event. It helped, but we lost a few bucks on it. The CD was the first on our new record label, Knitting Factory Works, and the first outside of our A&M deal. In that sense, it was a milestone of sorts.
Currently we’re expanding the record company and making many different compact discs-from Defunkt and The Jazz Passengers recorded live at the Knitting Factory to Samm Bennett and Chunk recorded in a studio. Most of the next bunch of CDs have been presold or licensed to our Japanese distributor, which is essentially financing the production of these projects. Without Tokuma Japan Inc.’s interest in our music, I doubt we could be doing these things. They are essentially making the record company happen in our proposed A&M image.
It is very interesting that the recording side of the Knitting Factory has come full circle – from the days of Flaming Pie Records to Knitting Factory Works. Our ambition, however enlarged, is essentially the same-to try to get this unheard new music in front of an audience. Even as this is being written (December 1991 and January 1992), we are two months behind in the rent, the IRS is trying to collect on some unemployment insurance taxes, and Bob is leaving the company to work independently in production. It is a continuously changing, non-stop, creative struggle to keep the Knitting Factory above water. We continue to scramble. Even this book is an attempt to make some money. With any luck it will sell, and if you are reading it, that’s a good sign. If you are my mom or dad, I appreciate your buying a copy-you’ve always been a great supporter of my projects. See you in another five years.