‘There’s a lot of freedom you can have with that kind of thing’: vinyl and cassette split releases in the digital age

Abstract

Releasing music on cassettes and 7-inch singles has been a part of DIYmusic scenes for a long time. As music production, distribution and consumption have been subjected to a substantial digital shift within the past two decades, one might expect cassette tapes or vinyl records to be a thing of the past, yet they persevere as indicated by thousands of new DIY releases every year. This article investigates the cultural and economic significance of split releases in contemporary DIY music scenes. In contrast to music streaming or digital downloads distributed online, it argues that the technological limitations and material idiosyncrasies of cassette tapes and vinyl records used for split releases allow for creative collaboration and intentional dissociation that contextualise people throughout various cultural and geographical domains. As a result, split releases are specifically used to contrast the overwhelming possibilities that digital music production and distribution pose.

Introduction

Releasing music on cassette tapes and 7-inch singles has been a common practice in international DIY-music scenes for a long time (see Bailey, 2012b; Novak, 2013). As music production, distribution and consumption have been subjected to a substantial digital shift within the past two decades, one might expect cassette tapes and vinyl records to be a thing of the past, yet they persevere in current music scenes.

This article investigates the under-researched cultural and economic significance of so-called ‘split releases’ – short ‘splits’ – in contemporary DIY music scenes. I will point out that the material limitations of split releases on cassette and vinyl foster creative collaboration and intentional dissociation that fundamentally shape the identities of current music scenes. In this context, split releases contrast the overwhelming possibilities of digital music production and distribution online. I will argue that split releases not only persevere as outlets for creative exchange across local, translocal and virtual music scenes (Bennett and Peterson, 2004), but also effectively create international exposure for artists who otherwise would stay unrecognized outside of their local scene.

The data component of this article is based on a period of 12-months fieldwork spanning music scenes on the Australian East Coast, major cities across Japan and the USA West Coast. It encompasses participant observations and expert interviews with 85 artists, independent label operators and record shop owners primarily active in Punk, Noise and Electronic Music scenes. After a brief definition and overview of how split releases are conceptualized, I will reflect on how the materiality of cassettes and vinyl records determines the production of split releases. I will utilize Bennett and Peterson’s (2004) three-tier model of local, translocal and virtual music scenes to contextualize the use of split releases. Employing Dant’s (2008) concept of ‘material interaction’, I will then argue that split releases represent Fleisher’s (2015) notion of ‘postdigital sensibility’ as they facilitate collaborative and dissociative music production based on material idiosyncrasies that contrast contemporary streaming services.

The concept and trajectory of split releases

For a split release one requires a physical sound carrier with distinct A and B sides, for example, a cassette tape, vinyl record or ‘flexi disc’. The latter is a thin sheet of plastic that resembles a vinyl record but offers lower audio quality and durability; also called ‘lathe cuts’ or ‘sono sheet’, these discs were commonly included in magazines during the mid-20th century. CDs are also used for split releases; however, their continuous playback function makes the conceptual split in the release less apparent in comparison to analogue audio formats which require to be flipped around. Traditionally, a split features two different artists contributing a recording each to the respective sides of a sound carrier. The release title is then indicated as ‘Artist A/Artist B – Split’. However, splits between three or more artists are nowadays common: titled ‘X-Way Split’, the ‘X’ represents the number of participating artists. In a cultural sense split releases are strongly linked to US Punk scenes as confirmed by a search on ‘split’ in title names of releases listed in the Discogs database. Organized by genre, Punk leads with 12,130 releases followed by Noise with 10,455 and Hardcore (Punk) with 9861 listed entries. When arranged according to origin, the US is at the top with 24,518 entries followed by the UK with a mere 6340 titles. Combining the overlapping genres of Punk and Hardcore, Discogs features a substantial number of 21,991 split releases in this area. Vinyl records are the principal format for splits with 27,037 listed entries that divide into 11,659 LPs and 11,547 7-inch singles. Split CDs make up for 15,947 entries and 13,418 titles are cassette splits (Discogs, 2022c). Split CDs were most prominent in 2000s American Punk, when CDs were more widely distributed than vinyl records or cassette tapes (Recording Industry Association of America, 2022). Nonetheless, the number of split releases on CD has recently decreased to 1110 listings between 2000 and 2010 and 652 listings between 2010 and 2020, indicating a shift in favour of vinyl and cassette splits. This tendency is also represented in the listings for Punk vinyl splits where figures more than doubled from 4722 releases between 2000 and 2010 to 10,707 releases between 2010 and 2020. The increase of cassette splits is even more drastic: between the years 1990 and 2000 1943 split cassettes are listed, falling to 1895 between 2000 and 2010. These figures are then significantly surpassed in the following decade with 6145 listed split cassettes released between 2010 and 2020 (Discogs, 2022c) which demonstrates a rekindled interest in releasing DIY split tapes during a period when cassettes were widely considered obsolete (Williams and Dykes, 2007).

While the representation of split releases on Discogs indicates a strong cultural link to Punk music, the earliest examples of the concept can be found in Columbia’s shellac recordings from the early 20th century such as a split shellac release between Al Jolson and Anna Chandler from 1917 (Discogs, 2021a). While the idea of splitting a Popular Music release has been present since this time, the earliest listed release that displays the now common DIY formula of splitting a 7-inch vinyl single or cassette tape for two different artists is a Punk 7-inch split between the Belgian bands X-Pulsion and Streets from 1978 (see Discogs, 2021c). The split features promo photos of both bands for each side of the record and dedicated liner notes, a now common format for this kind of release. Additionally, splits from Restricted Hours/The Syndicate (Discogs, 2022b) and Pneumania/UK Decay (Discogs, 2022a) both released in the UK in 1979, display the same conceptual framework. In the United States, Dischord Records’ influential the Faith/Void split from 1982 constituted a similar blueprint for the Hardcore Punk scene (see Finn, 2011). Split releases accommodated the evolution of Punk with its increasingly shorter and faster song structures. Given that multiple tracks can accumulate to only a few minutes, especially in the sub-genre of Powerviolence, fitting them on a single side of a 7-inch single or cassette tape proofs to be a viable solution. Notably, Slap A Ham Records’ compilation ‘Bllleeeeaaauuurrrrgghhh! – A Music War’ from 1998, a tongue-in-cheek reference to A&M Records’ ‘URGH! A Music War’ compilation from 1981, explores the conceptual extremes of split releases by featuring 73 bands and 84 songs on a single 7-inch single with a run time of only 14 minutes (Discogs, 2021b). Split releases are also prevalent in Experimental Music and Noise scenes as demonstrated by Masami Akita’s project Merzbow, that has been prolific in engaging with this ‘staple of underground communications’ over the past 40 years (Bailey, 2012a: 120). Since the advent of Punk and Noise in the 1970s, the number of split releases has continually grown, ultimately reaching a peak during the 2010s with an overall number of 30,982 splits released throughout the entire decade and approximately 3000 releases each year, a dynamic that has been continuing into the 2020s (Discogs, 2022c).

As these numbers indicate a growing economic impact of split releases, they constitute a principal form of music dissemination within international Punk scenes. There are two reasons for this significance: First, split releases minimize costs and maximize exposure. When releasing music on a grassroots basis with limited funds, splitting a release poses an effective method for breaking down the production costs between the involved label and artists. This is especially relevant for the substantially different production costs of vinyl records and cassette tapes. Second, a split promotes two different acts in a single release and thus possibly introduces them to new audiences. Artists with an established fanbase use split releases to push the exposure of a lesser-known act, such as in the case of a 4-way split that the acclaimed Japanese band Boris did with the composer Lisa Bella Donna for a Japan tour in 2019 (Sacher, 2019). Michael Hentz, who negotiated a release with Bella Donna for his label Auasca, saw this split as a useful promotion opportunity:

That Boris / Lisa Belladonna thing is cool. Like, I’m glad that we talked to her before that happened ‘cause then you got a shit-ton of Boris fans and they’re like: “Who is this person?” And that helps I think, it helps to lift the lesser-known person maybe on there. And it’s kinda fun to curate [. . .] the juxtaposition or the contrast of different types of music on each side.

Michael Hentz, Los Angeles, Auasca

Split releases can also be the product of companioned artists in a scene that play different styles of music. An example of this is discussed by Düster and Nowak (2018), who examine a split cassette by the Berlin-based label Twaague, that brought companioned artists with different musical backgrounds together in a single release. According to the label’s operator, a collaboration of these projects would have been unlikely without the framework of a split release to guide the creative process (see Düster and Nowak, 2018: 206). The following section will further explore the pros and cons of producing vinyl records and cassettes and trace how their material idiosyncrasies are interconnected with music distribution on the internet.

The materiality of split releases

Before digital music distribution via Mp3s became a standard in the mid-2000s, mailing cassette tapes posed the central method for DIY music distribution. During this period, collaborating for a release inevitably necessitated synthesising ideas into a form that would fit the material characteristics of the cassette. According to Jonathan Borges, who began operating his prolific Experimental Music label Monorail Trespassing in 1999, split cassettes enabled artists’ creative communication over long distances during this period:

There were so many split cassettes from people on different ends of the world. And I feel like, [. . .] in the sort of beginning days of the internet communication, like that was really vital and important as far as linking people together and it was that way for a long time.

Jonathan Borges, Los Angeles, Monorail Trespassing, Pedestrian Deposit

Once the internet became the established form of communication and creative exchange for music production and distribution, the significance of split cassettes began to shift:

I’m not sure that it is the same now. I think split cassettes definitely still exist and I think it’s more so a sort of mutual appreciation type of. . . I mean, I can’t speak for other people but as an outsider, I sort of see it as people that are already connected having a sort of mutual appreciation for each other and wanting to do a split or something like that.

Jonathan Borges, Los Angeles, Monorail Trespassing, Pedestrian Deposit

Borges’ account provides an insight into how split releases function within the current fragmentation of music consumption modes into complex digital relationships (see Nowak, 2014). To further explore the attraction of split releases, it is first necessary to engage with the material merits of releasing on cassette tapes and vinyl records in contrast to digital downloads and streaming. For this purpose, I will draw on Dant’s (2008) concept of ‘material interaction’ to discuss the role of materiality for the continuing cultural significance of split releases in DIY music scenes. Dant (2008: 13) frames material interaction as ‘the lived relations between human beings and material objects [.]’ In doing so, he argues that:

the meaning of objects is understood by consumers through ‘reading’ them as a set of signs that have meaning within the culture and that the relation is pragmatic in that the meaningfulness of objects unfolds through interaction. (Dant, 2008: 13)

For Dant (2008), an object is pragmatically understood ‘in the sense that meaning is contingent on the current situation that continually unfolds in the course of the interaction with the object’ (p. 15). Since the establishment of streaming platforms such as Spotify or Apple Music, it has become a common practice for music to be consumed digitally through a computer or smartphone (see Kjus, 2016). The material interaction with vinyl records and cassette tapes’ obsolete technological characteristics such as reeling, needle dropping or flipping around, however, is embraced as a contrasting experience to computer-based music consumption. Especially as the need for taking breaks from social media or so-called ‘digital detoxing’ (Przybylski et al., 2021; see also Graham et al., 2021) has been popularized within recent years, listening to music through methods that do not require an interaction with computers or smartphones constitute desired counterparts to current digital forms of media consumption. Although contemporary artists also manifest creative exchange through digital releases, the material limitation of records and cassettes to distinct A and B sides provides a unique material basis for producing split releases compared to music streaming. Contrasting the seemingly never-ending playlist-based subscription concept (see Arditi, 2017), an online music platform such as Bandcamp, that specifically caters to DIY artists and labels, provides an interface that most accurately represents this material limitation. Releases on Bandcamp feature a single list of tracks that stop after the last song and do not lead into algorithmically selected similar artists as on Spotify (see Hesmondhalgh et al., 2019). An example of how this structure is appropriated for split projects is the Bandcamp page for a split cassette between Berlin-based Ambient projects Haarp Hysteria and Tooth Decay. Each project has its own page with a link cross referencing the other side of the release and thus providing an active encouragement for visiting the other artist’s Bandcamp profile (see Bandcamp, 2016). Examples like this illustrate that the material traits of split cassettes and records do not counteract music streaming. More so they demonstrate that these two forms of music distribution and consumption complement each other in the fragmented landscape of music in the digital age (see Nowak, 2014). Contrasting rather than counteracting digital music, cassette tapes and vinyl records enable contingent and tangible material interaction (Dant, 2008: 15), material representation of memories (see Bennett and Rogers, 2016), real life creative exchange (see Skågeby, 2011) and a method for dissociation from other artists, scenes and labels. Indeed, the ongoing reproduction of the split release demonstrates that the tangibility of music continues to play a significant role in DIY-based music communities. In contrast to digital streaming’s radio-like uninterrupted flow of sound that is used for its convenience (see Hesmondhalgh and Meier, 2018: 1564–1565), the technological drawbacks of cassettes and vinyl records that slow the consumption process of music down are essential for their appreciation, as illustrated by an account of Tōkyō-based musician Sean McGee:

I have no problem with Spotify [. . .] it’s opened me up to so many different kinds of music, [. . .] I listen to Spotify all day every day. But when it comes to physical media, I’ll take either one. I wanna put it in, I wanna listen to it, I wanna open the book. But I tend to get really nerdy about sound. So that’s why it depends on the genre and how it was recorded and why it is on that media. Depending on the band I’ll choose the media.

Sean McGee, Tōkyō, Sharkk, Tropical Death

Indeed, easy access to music has made listeners selective; material interaction with audio formats, however, not only matters in the context of music consumption. It is also an integral element for the production of split releases. To better understand the cultural reception of splits, it is therefore necessary to trace how the production of cassettes is constituted in contrast to vinyl records.

The difference between producing split 7-inches and split tapes

Due to the material characteristics of cassette tapes and 7-inch singles discussed in the previous section, releasing splits on these formats is tied to specific challenges. First, it is necessary to take monetary aspects into consideration. Over the past decade, producing vinyl records has become increasingly expensive (see Rayner, 2018). As a result, also the cost for 7-inch singles, traditionally the cheaper option to manufacturing 12-inch LPs, has been affected. Musicol, a recording studio and pressing plant based in Columbus, Ohio charges US$ 830 for the pressing of one hundred 7-inch singles without outer sleeves and blank labels (Musicol, 2021). Solid Merch, based in NYC and Portland, Oregon offers the production of a minimum of two hundred fifty 7-inch singles including colour-printed sleeves for US$ 1087 (Solid Merch, 2021b). Mobineko, a company based in the USA, UK and Australia produces its goods in Taiwan and offers fifty 7-inch singles with full-colour labels and sleeves for US$ 621 (Mobineko, 2021a). These quotes demonstrate that even producing 7-inch singles with varying minimum commercial quantities constitutes a substantial financial investment for DIY music projects. The format of the split release constitutes in this setting an efficient method of splitting necessary production costs:

I’ve seen a lot of that [. . .] with all formats, split CDs and split 7-inches or records that would have five or six different labels releasing it to like, break down the cost to a tiny amount.

Jonathan Borges, Los Angeles, Monorail Trespassing, Pedestrian Deposit

Not only does the initial monetary investment constitute a potential challenge when releasing music on vinyl records, but also the danger of not moving the required quantity to break even with the costs. Especially given that production plants commonly force customers to buy set minimum quantities, having leftover stock remaining after a production run remains a real risk for DIY music labels and artists alike. Los Angeles-based Ori Ofir has been aware of this factor in his recent switch from releasing cassette tapes to vinyl records on his label Night Gaunt Recordings:

[The distributor was] chill with us doing 250. It’s really expensive and it’s not a good deal. But 500 sounds insane to me and I wanna be able to sell out of the records and feel good about that. Laughs And keep it at a low edition. And I don’t wanna have a fucking house full of records, that’s a nightmare, it’s so depressing. Laughs Yeah, like, I put all this money in and now I’m just sitting in crates of records.

Ori Ofir, Los Angeles, Night Gaunt Recordings, Lower Tar, Sterile Hand

Cassette tapes, in contrast, commonly do not require a minimum quantity for bulk-orders and therefore remain an option for more flexible and creative release practices. To illustrate, Mobineko offers a production run of fifty duplicated cassette tapes with on-shell printing and printed full-colour j-cards for US$ 221.58 (Mobineko, 2021b). The Canadian manufacturer duplication.ca offers a similar production run for around US$ 186 (see Duplication.ca, 2021) and Solid Merch for US$ 260 (see Solid Merch, 2021a). Fluctuating prices, that nevertheless pose a fraction of the monetary investment for releasing 7-inch singles.

Indeed, production costs, waiting time, availability, as well as demand are fundamental factors in the current production of split releases. Given, however, that most splits are grassroot-based works of amateurs, the factor of creative freedom that the technological traits of cassette tapes and vinyl records allow for must be taken into consideration in this context as well. Notably, Novak (2013: 233) mentions how the materiality of cassette tapes reflects cultural production, circulation and communication in North American Noise scenes:

Noise cassettes are distributed through unpredictable person-to-person encounters that undermine standard timetables of media production. Rather than producing tapes as “releases” in a media cycle, Noisicians make tapes available on an ad hoc basis through exchange at shows or on the street. These do not always represent the latest “album” by an individual artist. They can be mix tapes, older solo projects, collaborations or “splits” with other artists, or unique one-offs that are made for a single listener.

Novak’s account gives credit to the cultural dynamics of Noise that appropriate cassette tapes through recording, releasing and listening. Cassette tapes offer an affordable way to spontaneously produce and distribute releases in a physical form as thrifted second-hand tapes, for example, can be re-recorded. In the context of DIY-based Noise and Punk scenes, cassette tapes thus appear as the more accessible choice for releasing split releases compared to 7-inch vinyl discs which is also reflected in the creative freedom they offer. Developed as a format for singles played at 45 rpm that can host between 4 and 6 minutes of audio per side, 7-inches are limited in their storage capacities. Cassette tapes, in contrast, can host up to 45 minutes or more per side. Based on this material limitation, the structure of the release must be conceptually sound when releasing a 7-inch single. The cassette tape on the contrary offers enough capacity to accommodate experimental split-releases as described by Stephen Hoffman from the Portland, Oregon-based Doom band Tar Pit:

You can have like, a couple of your songs and also do like a little one-off cover or cover something of the other bands that you really like. It’s a different way, ‘cause with albums you kinda have this way of thinking of it as this coherent entity [. . .] but with the splits, I think you can almost get a little bit more creative with it ‘cause [. . .] you’re already playing with another band who is not gonna be exactly the same style as you so you have a little bit more freedom to feel like, “ok, I can do something more weird or experimental and [. . .] especially with cassettes, I’m not putting up all this money, so I can fuck around a little bit.” It’s not gonna be a huge financial burden.

Stephen Hoffman, Portland OR, Tar Pit

Indeed, through lower production costs in combination with higher flexibility in sound storage, cassette tapes can accommodate spontaneous creativity as described by Scott McLatchie who traverses with his music projects Naarm/Melbourne’s Noise, Art Rock, Screamo and Black Metal scenes that frequently produce split releases:

When [. . .] you finished recording the songs for the split [. . .] you message [the other band] and like: “well, we finished our songs but let’s add some extra stuff like, how about you record this and then we will add something over the top?” And then you like kinda create this exchange. [. . .] [A] lot of us coming from like, Noise backgrounds as well, [. . .] everyone is like: “Yeah! Sick! Alright, cool let’s add some weird samples or something. Or add like an extra thing in the J-card or something.” I feel like with records, it’s kind of like, it has to be this way. But with tapes, [. . .] we can do add this and take away this and do all that stuff. I think it’s really cool. Definitely more creative, there is a lot more opportunity for some interesting developments to be made through tape.

Scott McLatchie, Naarm/Melbourne, The World at A Glance, Alloxylon

Although split tapes offer more creative freedom, split 7-inches, especially due to the involved monetary and scheduling requirements, are in a cultural sense often valued as the more aspiring format for music releasing: the split 7-inch signifies in contemporary DIY music scenes the willingness to invest money and time into creating an ambitious music production that aims at reaching a larger audience than the split tape can. Scott continues:

I feel like if it’s on record it’s kind of like: “this it’s legitimate!” It’s sounds kinda silly to say that; it’s like serious, it’s like: “this is real now! We’re doing this for real!” Rather than just like a tape is kind of like a bit carefree. ‘Cause yeah, records are expensive. 150 is roughly you gonna be paying 2000$ or so, which I mean, who fucking has that? Not many people I know have that for records. Like if they do, they’ve been saving up a long time specifically to release that. [With cassettes,] if you need more, you just make more, you don’t need to go through a pressing plant.

Scott McLatchie, Naarm/Melbourne, The World at A Glance, Alloxylon

Although the required monetary investment is a key issue for the production of vinyl records and cassette tapes, it is also the formats’ material idiosyncrasies that determine the creative potential for musical collaboration and dissociation. When comparing the production, releasing and distribution of vinyl records and cassettes with the availability and impact of music streaming, the juxtaposition of limitation and overabundance become apparent. For music and media consumption in the 21st century, creative and consumption fatigue are more and more developing into common problems (see Fleischer, 2015; Groshek et al., 2018). To illustrate, the possibilities for structuring, arranging and curating music releases have become virtually boundless – with a computer and basic recording gear it is possible to produce an album with 1000 one-second-long tracks through merely a few commands and then distribute it worldwide within minutes through a plethora of available internet platforms. Notably, the German composer Johannes Kreidler’s conceptual piece ‘product placements’ explores the resulting legal and political implications of digital music’s maximalist opportunities: Kreidler’s 33-second-long composition consists of 70,200 samples of copyrighted music for which he lodged individual applications with the German copyright authority GEMA. The submission of the printed applications that Kreidler delivered in a rented small truck was accompanied by the press and was as much a performative component of the piece’s conceptual framework as the music itself (see Hufner, 2008). Although works such as ‘product placements’ intentionally explore the absurdity of digital music production in a playful manner, the volume of possibilities that digital reproduction methods of music entail can also constitute a challenge for amateur musicians and consumers. Conceptually, the limitation of cassette tapes and vinyl records, the confinement of a dedicated A and B side with specific lengths offers contemporary artists an option to actively counteract the limitlessness of digital music releasing: for a digital-based collaborative release, two artists must negotiate the conceptual framework of release length, track amount and order from scratch. When collaborating for a split release on vinyl or cassette, however, the production costs and material limitations of the format provide a set framework that both parties can directly work with. The unbounded possibilities of digital music production can in this sense inhibit creativity while the continuation of split releases on cassettes and vinyl records in the 21st century give credit to the fact that the idiosyncratic limitation of analogue audio formats fosters creativity. The use of objectively obsolete audio formats for releasing split-releases aligns in this context with Fleischer’s (2015: 256) notion of ‘postidigital sensibility’ based on the disposition that

the everyday experience of a digital superabundance has contributed to a recent interest in forms of music which are not available to any individual, anytime and everywhere. I propose that these postdigital practices should not be taken as just a nostalgic reaction against the use of digital media, but could rather be understood as belonging to a politics of affect.

For Fleischer, music ‘should not be thought as a thing or digital “content”, but as something which must take place and take time in order to matter’ (Fleischer, 2015: 266 original italicisation). The decelerated production and consumption of vinyl records and cassette tapes plays into this concept. With Dant (2008), producing, distributing and consuming split releases appear as practices directly related to the material interaction with cassette tapes’ and vinyl records’ material dispositions. The respective A and B sides of both these audio formats not only structure but also stimulate the creative process of collaborative music releasing in current DIY music scenes. While digital files hosted on obscure server farms can render music impalpable, cassette tapes and vinyl records function as artefacts that directly contain and materialize a single instance of music for a specific purpose. Attaching a meaningful purpose to music in the face of its digital overabundance is in this sense one of the major challenges that contemporary DIY music scenes face. The perseverance of the collaborative split release based on the ongoing use of vinyl records and cassette tapes thus poses a viable strategy to foster meaningful social relationships through material interaction in local, translocal and virtual music scenes. The next section explores several instances of these relationships that contribute to the ongoing international relevance of split releases through Bennett and Peterson’s (2004) three-tier model of local, translocal and virtual music scenes.

Split releases and community

Contemporary split releases, born from the material interaction with vinyl records and cassette tapes, are artefacts that document different types of social relationships ranging from mutual appreciation and friendships to rivalries or even hostility between artists of varying backgrounds worldwide. In this sense, split releases do not stem from a social vacuum but are the products of actively sought relationships between people. Following Appadurai (1986: 5), the contemporary circulation of split releases has thus to be made sense of through social interaction that highlights the ‘social life’ of split releases. To structure the different contexts in which split releases are used as tools for social interaction, I will draw on Bennett and Peterson’s (2004) three-tier model of local, translocal and virtual music scenes. Through this lens, I will first look at local examples of split releases stemming from a single scene and then move on to investigate how split releases connect different geographically separate scenes in large countries such as Australia before finally analysing instances of split releases fostering virtual collaboration.

So far, the primary two purposes for split releases have been identified as promotional method and for the cultivation of artistic exchange. Given the creative freedom that especially cassette tapes offer, however, split releases can also be employed to dissociate from fellow scene members through humorous critique. This form of appropriation is illustrated by an anecdote of Benjamin Lebrard, frontman of the Portland-based Doom band R.I.P.

My very first Punk band when I was like 15, 16 we did an unofficial demo split with this. . . I was born in South Carolina which is just like a big redneck place you know, a lot of dumbasses there. And there’s this like super redneck kind of like Pantera style band, it was kind of a small scene so, they’re called Lift Kit, like, named after the thing you put under trucks to make it a monster truck, you know. And so, we all thought they’re really funny, they would play with like rebel flags over their amps and shit, you know, and we made our demo with my little boom box at my house or whatever as a split with theirs. [. . .] Our demo was on one side and theirs was on the other [. . .] without their knowledge or consent; just as like, just to be an asshole basically, to make fun of them. ‘Cause we were just naughty Punk kids just making fun of these like, meathead guys. Laughs So, there’s a lot of freedom you can have with that kind of thing.

Benjamin Lebrard, Portland OR, R.I.P.

Examples like this demonstrate that split releases are not limited to mere collaboration that expresses mutual appreciation of participating artists. Following Lebrard’s account, the split format was creatively appropriated to criticize or ‘troll’ the style, performance and political orientation of other members in the South Carolina music scene, displaying a style of humour that is reminiscent of the meta-commentary now common in memes on the internet and social media (see Denisova, 2019). Though Lebrards example was created without knowledge or consent from Lift Kit, it is common for split release projects to emerge from a face-to-face context, for example, through conversations at concerts and other local events (see Novak, 2013). In the case of Noise and Industrial scenes, which commonly overlap with white-supremacist, racist and neo-Nazi networks (see Bailey, 2012b), collaborations necessitate for many artists to research the background and political orientation of participating acts and labels. ¹ This prerequisite for releasing splits in Noise and Industrial scenes is illustrated by John Stevens, who has been active in these scenes around Naarm/Melbourne and internationally for more than a decade:

The most recent tape release I did with Shallow was a split with a Noise group called Bespoke Decay. And this guy who approached me at a gig I did in February and [. . .] said: “I really want to do something with you.” And then of course [I] had to do the usual thing: you’re doing Noise where you like, having to do a bit of research and asking difficult questions like: “You’re not really racist are you?” Or something like that. And I had a fair idea with him, and we figured that out and he understood why I asked.

John Stevens, Naarm/Melbourne, Shallow, Colostomy Baguette?

Stevens is speaking from experience in this case, as they previously participated in a compilation that featured problematic associations:

I’ve been caught before like being on like a split 7-inch with like 57 bands; [. . .] peak absurdity but it was maximum 15 seconds per band and when [. . .] we looked at one of the bands [. . .] I’m going: “Hugh, okay, they’re called Hate Speech, what’s that about?” And yeah, it was a Klansman. It was someone from the KKK and to make it more awkward, I was: “Ah, it’s a Klansman, oh no, he killed himself, not long ago.” I’m sure he knew the guy who ran the label and maybe the guy felt sorry for him. And I get the feeling about the label it’s just like: “Yeah, this is offensive, this is great!” and I’m like: “This is not actually, this is not good.”

John Stevens, Naarm/Melbourne, Shallow, Colostomy Baguette?

This example vividly displays that the association of artists plays an important role within the planning and producing of split releases. Large compilations, conceptually reminiscent to the Powerviolence releases on Slap A Ham Records, can backfire for the participating individuals and labels. The above-mentioned examples furthermore demonstrate that split releases can be used as examples to extend Bennett and Peterson’s (2004) notion of music scenes as comparatively coherent entities based on commonality in music genre and political outlook. The split releases in question demonstrate that commonality is not the sole constituent of music scenes, but that meta commentary, dissociation, critique and humour fundamentally influence the social dynamics within a wide array of music scenes as well.

Given that not only friendships are the basis for the creation of splits, how do translocal releases between artists in varying locations come into existence? As shown before, congregating at concerts, record shops and other events plays an important role for negotiating and distributing split-releases on a face-to-face basis (see Novak, 2013). When individuals, however, are not able to interact within each other’s presence, the internet becomes an essential tool for creating an initial contact between artists from different scenes and localities. Reece Prain, who performs solo Noise under the alias Muddy Lawrence, explains how the connection for a split release with the Swedish outfit Urban:Dentist came about:

[I met them] just over the internet, their stuff just popped up from people I knew in Japan [. . .] so, I was just like: “Oh, cool Sweden.” and checked out a few videos and whatnot. [I contacted them via] Instagram actually, ‘cause I have a Muddy Lawrence Instagram. And you look at the Instagram, [. . .] it’s kinda strange; like, I purposely make it more sort of a character than actually myself. ‘Cause I don’t think my face is revealed in any of the photos or if it is, it’s really like blurry or looking down or something. And my actual name is not on it. I don’t even know if there’s an email address on there either. So, it’s kind of sketchy in a way. But I contacted them using that account and they were like: “Yeah, cool” [. . .] ‘cause there’s some photos of me on there with people they knew, so.

Reece Prain, Naarm/Melbourne, Muddy Lawrence, Diploid

A similar connection between Australian and Swedish DIY scenes can be found in a split tape that brought together Meanjin/Brisbane’s Hexmere with Status Noll from Norrköping. As in Prain’s example, the initial correspondence manifested through a message on the music platform Bandcamp. Hexmere’s Philip Hunter explained the process:

Our second release was like a split with a band from Sweden, Status Noll. Which came from a Bandcamp message. I messaged them and six months later we did a tape. Very surreal, so privileged. Big fans of that band’s ethics and then meeting them when I was in Europe, it was a little bit of a dream come true. [. . .]

Philip Hunter, Meanjin/Brisbane, Hexmere, Tropical Cancer Rort

Hunter stayed with the band while travelling in Sweden and thus extended the previous connection established through online correspondence and the releasing of a split tape through a real-life encounter. This example demonstrates how the social relationships initially created through a shared interest in music and the purpose of releasing a vinyl record or cassette tape together can traverse the online sphere into the IRL realm.

Furthermore, split releases foster creative relationships between artists that work separated from each other within large countries such as the United States and Australia. Distance between different local music scenes plays a significant role in how scene identities are maintained, yet it also poses a challenge when it comes to connecting with like-minded musicians. Examples of people overcoming these challenges through creating split releases can be found in the United States’ Death Metal scene. Portland Oregon’s Doom Metal band Tar Pit shares band members with the Death Metal outfit Coffin Rot, who created a connection with the scene in the Midwest through releasing a split with the Chicago-based band Molder (see Discogs, 2018). Like in the previous examples, the initial connection of the bands was established through social media:

I guess, the internet is part of it, but I’m pretty sure like most of the people I know who’ve done split tapes with other bands originally met the people that they did the splits with on Facebook, on some sort of group or something. Like, Coffin Rot did a split release with Molder who’s from Chicago, Illinois and none of those guys have ever been to Chicago, but I think for them I think it was their label that kinda hooked them up, [. . .] but yeah, it’s kind of a way to cross pollinate, you know and to get your music out there. And in October they were doing a Midwest tour with Molder and for the split release Molder came up here and they did a short Westcoast Minitour.

Stephen Hoffman, Portland OR, Tar Pit

In the case of Coffin Rot and Molder, the split release aided in creating a meaningful connection between the two bands and their scenes for the purpose of organising DIY tours. Social contacts and networks are especially valuable for DIY touring as they give the opportunity to share costs for hiring vehicles and music equipment. Hoffman continues to illustrate how an initial connection through a split release is essential for forming subsequent projects:

It is hard if you [. . .] don’t know people to really do tours on any sort of significant scale unless you have a promoter or manager or something; they know people and that’s their job. So, it’s a way to [do] DIY tours in other places without really requiring much support from outside. So, if Molder wants to come up here, they’ve done the split together, they have that relationship, they all met each other in person in addition to meet[ing] each other on the internet, so they trust each other and they know who they are face-to-face. [. . .] If you’re flying from the Midwest up here, you not gonna be able to bring your amp stack. You gonna bring your instrument, maybe some pedals and that’s about it. So, you are either gonna have to rent equipment or you have to know somebody who has equipment that you can borrow. So, it’s a way to reduce costs and then also to have somebody to tour with and help you with all the logistics and everything which I think is super helpful and really the only way that a lot of musicians can afford to do this stuff, ‘cause generally like, we’ll make some money doing stuff around town but once you start touring, like all that money gets eaten up by gas and having to rent a van and all that other stuff, so any money that you can save is more touring that you can do and more spots that you can head, more people that you can present your music to.

Stephen Hoffman, Portland OR, Tar Pit

Similar dynamics can be found in Australia, where the Perth-based label Televised Suicide, which specializes in Punk, Metal and Grindcore, released several splits including a 7-inch record between Perth’s Hexx and Brisbane’s Shitgrinder (see Discogs, 2019). The split was not released by Televised Suicide alone but in cooperation with the label Regurgitated Semen Records from Germany. Through this strategy, the release not only created a connection between the Grindcore and Punk scenes on the East and Westcoast of Australia, but simultaneously also received distribution in Europe. The release thus stands not only as an example of how splitting the two sides of a vinyl record between two artists can create a larger scale of exposure but also how the involvement of multiple labels and distributors maintains a wider spread in distribution for the finished release. Involving Regurgitated Semen Records directly into the production process proved a reliable strategy for Televised Suicide that helped to conquer the geographical isolation of Australia and its high shipping costs for parcels that can render the distribution of vinyl records a costly endeavour.

The above examples illustrate the multi-faceted cultural meanings that split releases take on in local, translocal and virtual music scenes. Notably, none of the mentioned examples stem from purely virtual music scenes but do illustrate that an initial virtual communication between artists can foster the creation of split releases and subsequent projects such as concerts and tours. As artefacts of local, translocal and virtual communication, split releases on cassette tapes and 7-inch singles thus present a material juxtaposition to the intangible state of music on digital distribution platforms of the 21st century.

Conclusion

This article has examined the continuing cultural relevance of split releases on vinyl records and cassette tapes across a wide array of different styles in current DIY music scenes. Utilizing Bennett and Peterson’s (2004) model of local, translocal and virtual music scenes and Dant’s (2008) concept of material interaction, I have demonstrated that splits released on obsolete analogue formats have not only maintained their cultural relevance in global music scenes but also have been reconfigured as material artefacts in face-to-face and virtual communication. While the music on split releases is often also available through music streaming, this mode of music consumption has not superseded analogue split releases bound to the specific material characteristic of analogue sound carriers. The above cited accounts more so give credit to the fact that music streaming and analogue audio formats co-exist in a synergetic relationship in which music streaming is accepted for its convenience and cassette tapes and vinyl records maintain tactile, limited and according to Fleischer (2015), postdigitally sensible ways of music distribution and consumption. Music-making and music-listening in the digital age are certainly not immaterial endeavours and the continuing relevance of split releases gives credit to this disposition. Whether it be for the purpose of demonstrating mutual appreciation, breaking down production costs or preparing a self-organized tour, split releases have been and will continue to constitute one of the most successful tools for creative communication across DIY music scenes.