How to Release Experimental Music Independently: A Guide by RZRecords
Introduction: Why This Guide Exists
We have been doing this for over twenty years. That is not a boast. It is a confession.
Twenty years of releases. Twenty years of collaborations. Twenty years of watching platforms emerge, promise democratization, and then monetize themselves into irrelevance. Twenty years of explaining to friends and family that yes, the mess, screaming and feedback is intentional, and yes, someone actually purchased it.
We have released harsh noise wall, avant-jazz, drone, dark ambient, electroacoustic improvisation, no-wave-noise-punk, and things we still do not have names for. We have worked with collaborators in Ukraine, Netherlands, Serbia, Russia, Japan, Philippines, Israel, Poland, and obviously the US, and basements everywhere that do not appear on maps. We have released albums recorded on answering machines and dictaphones, and albums recorded in professional studios. We have pressed CDs, burned CDRs that remain unsold and cassettes that sold out in hours. We have made every mistake possible, often repeatedly, often publicly.
This guide exists because when we started in the early 00s, there was no roadmap. No one told us what to do and how to do it. There were no blogs telling you how to get your noise tape onto streaming services or how to coordinate a five-label split release with artists who do not speak the same language. There was no handbook for navigating the transition from physical-only distribution to digital aggregation. There was certainly no guide explaining how to explain to your parents and partners that the 40-minute track of modulated feedback is actually a deeply personal meditation on seasonal affective disorder.
You just did it, failed, and tried again. Then you did it differently, failed differently, and tried again differently. Then twenty years passed and you realized the failures were the point.
We are still failing. We are failing every day. We are still learning. Here is what we know so far.
Part One: Before You Release Anything
Understand What You Are Actually Doing
This is the most important section of this guide. Read it twice.
You are not trying to "make it." You are not waiting to be discovered. You are not building a brand in the traditional sense. You are not cultivating an audience as a precursor to monetization. You are not creating content.
You are creating evidence.
Evidence that you existed. Evidence that you made sounds. Evidence that you collaborated with others. Evidence that you pushed against something. Evidence that you had something to say and you said it in the only language that made sense at the time.
This distinction matters because it changes how you measure success. Success is not a record deal. Success is not a certain number of likes or streams. Success is not placement on a playlist. Success is not a favorable review [save those, because sites that share kind words today might be defunct tomorrow, and you'll have no evidence].
Success is the release existing, someone hearing it, and perhaps someone else being inspired to make their own evidence. Success is someone in another country, another decade, finding your cassette in a used bin and wondering who you were. Success is being remembered at all in a culture designed to forget.
We wrote about this extensively in our post announcing the "3" split release , where we noted that releases like these are "fated to be lost to time, only to be occasionally remembered by the participants themselves." That is not pessimism. That is acceptance of the conditions under which we work. The work matters regardless of its lifespan.
The Only Equipment You Actually Need
We have released albums made with:
A single smartphone microphone placed in the center of a room
Discarded keyboards found on sidewalks during bulk trash pickup
GarageBand presets that came free with a 2012 MacBook
$2,000 studio sessions with outboard compression and analog summing
A children's toy discovered at a thrift store with dying batteries
Contact microphones attached to heating pipes
The built-in microphone on a laptop, placed too close to the speaker
None of these are requirements.
The requirement is that you finish something. A finished lo-fi recording is infinitely more valuable than an unfinished hi-fi vision. An imperfect release that exists is infinitely more valuable than a perfect release that remains in progress. We have watched excellent artists spend years perfecting their debut while we released twelve imperfect albums. Guess whose work exists in the world and whose exists as promise?
Minimum viable setup:
Any device that records audio (phone, computer, handheld recorder, boombox)
Any free DAW (Audacity, GarageBand, BandLab, Ocenaudio)
Any listening device that is not your recording device (headphones, monitors, earbuds)
Any method of exporting to MP3 or WAV
That is it. Everything else is optional. Everything else is preference. Everything else can wait.
Haggari Nakashe's "Chamber" was assembled from layers of synth drones recorded in a single afternoon on modest equipment. The result is a five-track exploration of depression and frequency that has resonated with listeners in ways we never anticipated. The equipment did not determine the emotional impact. The intention did.
The Mindset Shift: From Consumer to Producer
You have spent your life consuming music. You have internalized thousands of hours of other people's creative decisions. You have developed taste, discernment, and probably some amount of elitism about what constitutes "good" experimental music.
All of this is now a liability.
The transition from consumer to producer requires abandoning the evaluative mindset. Stop asking "Is this good?" Start asking "Is this finished?" Stop comparing your work to established artists with decades of experience and professional studios. Start comparing your work to your own previous work.
We have released albums we now consider mediocre. We have released albums we now consider embarrassing. We have never regretted releasing them. We have only ever regretted the releases we were too afraid to finish.
Part Two: The Actual Release Process
Step 1: Decide What "Released" Actually Means
There is no universal definition. For RZRecords, "released" has meant:
A private Bandcamp link sent to exactly seven people via direct message
A cassette dub passed hand-to-hand at a show with no digital presence whatsoever
Official distribution on twelve streaming platforms with ISRC codes and UPC barcodes
A single YouTube upload that currently has 14 views, 3 of which are the uploader
A CD-R burned in batches of five, hand-numbered, distributed exclusively through postal mail
A collaborative live recording later edited and released months or years after the performance occurred
All of these count.
Define your release before you begin. If your goal is streaming platforms, the process differs significantly from a short-run cassette release. Both are valid. Both require different timelines, different budgets, and different expectations.
For our split between Heavy Insect and Haggari Nakashe & gaop , we defined "released" as: available on Bandcamp immediately, available on streaming platforms approximately six weeks later, with no physical component. This definition shaped every subsequent decision: the timeline, the promotion strategy, the communication with collaborators.
For gaop's "Cardboard Boulevard" , we defined "released" as: an avant-jazz album with extensive liner notes, streaming availability prioritized, and a deliberate focus on the improvisational aspects of the recording. The definition shaped how we wrote about it, what we emphasized in promotion, and how we framed the work for listeners unfamiliar with gaop's approach.
Step 2: Distribution Pathways
For Digital-Only Releases:
Bandcamp remains the standard. This is not a paid endorsement. This is simply the reality of the independent experimental music ecosystem. Bandcamp offers fair revenue share (85% to the artist, 90% for merchandise bundles). Bandcamp offers embeddable players that work everywhere. Bandcamp offers direct fan relationships without algorithmic intermediation. Bandcamp offers the ability to set your own prices, offer pay-what-you-want, and distribute download codes to reviewers and collaborators.
We release everything on Bandcamp first. Often weeks or months before streaming services. Sometimes exclusively on Bandcamp with no streaming release at all. The platform respects our audience and our work in ways that streaming aggregators simply do not.
But we do love streaming. We love having the music easily available to everyone, anywhere.
SMEGMASMOG's "BETRAYAL" was released on Bandcamp in early March 2025, with streaming platforms scheduled for approximately one month later. This window allows our core audience to discover and engage with the work before it disperses into the vast algorithmic indifference of Spotify and Apple Music.
Streaming services require a distributor. You cannot upload directly to Spotify, Apple Music, Amazon Music, Tidal, or Deezer. You need a middleman. Your options include:
DistroKid: Fast, inexpensive flat fee. Best for high-volume releases. Approximately $20/year for unlimited uploads. Automatic revenue collection. Mediocre customer support.
TuneCore: Pay-per-release model. More administrative control. Better for artists who release infrequently and want to pay per project rather than annually. Approximately $15-50 per release depending on services selected.
Amuse: Free tier available. Slower rollout. Limited features. Good for absolute beginners who cannot yet afford paid distribution.
CD Baby: One-time fee, perpetual distribution. Approximately $30-100 per release. Excellent for artists who never want to think about renewal fees. Slowest processing times.
United Masters: Subscription model with more artist development claims. Mixed reviews from experimental artists. Better suited to hip-hop and pop.
Our recommendation: Start with Bandcamp only. Operate there for at least three releases. Learn how to describe your work. Learn how to embed players. Learn how to communicate with listeners. Streaming adds visibility but rarely revenue for experimental music. The math is brutal: you need approximately 250 Spotify streams to earn the same $1 you earn from a single Bandcamp download. Add streaming after you have established your Bandcamp presence and understand your audience.
For Physical Releases:
Short runs only. This is non-negotiable. Do not press 500 CDs. Press 30. Press 50. You can always press more. You cannot un-press unsold inventory. We know this from experience. We have a box of 100 CDs from 2022 that we mention in every conversation as a warning. The box remains full. The lesson remains unlearned by others who will repeat our mistake.
J-card cassettes remain the most cost-effective physical medium for extreme music. Duplication is inexpensive ($3-6 per unit for runs of 50-100). Packaging is flexible and allows for artistic expression. Shipping is manageable domestically and internationally. Cassette players are experiencing a nostalgia-driven revival that benefits experimental artists disproportionately. Check prices first. Sometimes it's not cost-effective, sometimes tariffs and taxes just mess everything up, it's always an uncomfortable surprise so do your best research.
CD-Rs are acceptable. Do not let anyone tell you otherwise. Do not let format elitists shame you for burning discs in your computer. We have released CD-Rs that traveled across oceans and changed how people thought about noise woodwinds. We have released CDRs that were later digitized, archived, and studied by listeners who discovered them years after the original run sold out. The format does not determine the art. The art determines the art.
Sabixatzil's "Calm Down" represents an interesting middle path: a digital release that emphasizes simplicity and minimalism, with no physical component. There were years on years where we did not release anything physical. This case was a deliberate choice that aligned with the album's aesthetic. The simpler guitar arrangements and cleaner sound would not have benefited from a cassette hiss layer or CD-R limitations. The format served the work rather than tradition. Your case is your case. YOU decide what makes sense, and you can always change your mind.
Step 3: Metadata and Barcodes
This is the least interesting section of this guide and the most frequently botched. We apologize in advance for its dryness. Read it anyway.
ISRC codes: International Standard Recording Codes. Each individual track needs one. Each different format (digital, streaming, CD, cassette) technically needs its own set, though streaming aggregators usually handle this automatically. Your distributor usually generates these codes at no additional cost. If you are self-releasing exclusively on Bandcamp with no streaming presence, you do not strictly need them. If you are going to streaming platforms, you absolutely do.
UPC/EAN codes: Barcodes for the release as a whole. A single release has one UPC code regardless of how many tracks it contains. Bandcamp generates these automatically for paid purchases. Distributors provide them for streaming releases. Do not purchase UPC codes from third-party resellers. This is a scam.
Catalog numbers: Create a system and stick to it. The system itself does not matter. Consistency matters.
We use RZR[YEAR][INITIALS][RELEASENUMBER].
RZR25SS01: The Anomalous Trackologies Split, 2025, Split Series, first release of that series
RZR24SoSc: The Spirit of Jazz Compels You, 2024, collaboration with Splitting Sounds Records
RZR25HNENT: Exploring Noise Textures, 2025, Haggari Nakashe, Noise Exploration Noises Textures
This system allows anyone looking at a physical release or digital listing to understand: the label, the year, the artist, the series placement. It is not elegant. It is not clever. It is functional and traceable.
Step 4: Artwork and Presentation
You need artwork. This is not optional. Even a minimal release needs a visual identifier. Even a text-only Bandcamp page needs a square image. Even a cassette J-card needs something printed.
You do not need to hire a designer. We have released albums with:
Smartphone photographs of textured surfaces
Scanned collages made from magazine clippings
Original drawings by collaborators' children
Pure black with white text
Pure white with black text
Deliberately bad Photoshop composites
What you need:
3000x3000 pixels at 300 DPI for digital platforms
Print resolution appropriate for your physical format (consult your duplication service)
Readable text, especially the artist name and release title (tho sometimes it's a valid artistic choice to leave everything unmarked)
Consistent branding across all platforms
xPhin's "takahashi" artwork by Azalia Imamutdinova demonstrates what is possible when you collaborate with visual artists who understand the music. The nine-panel composition creates a dialogue between sound and image, inviting listeners to "decipher and establish the connection" between what they hear and what they see. This is not decoration. This is interpretation.
Part Three: The Art of the Split Release
Why Splits Matter
Splits are not filler between your solo work. Splits are not a way to half-fill a cassette side. Splits are not merely promotional cross-pollination tactics.
Splits are the truest expression of the experimental music community.
A split release says: We are different artists. We have different approaches, different equipment, different audiences, different aesthetics. But we share something. We share a physical object. We share listeners. We share the risk of putting our work next to someone else's and trusting that the juxtaposition will be generative rather than competitive.
We have participated in splits that took three years to materialize. We have participated in splits that came together in three days. Both are normal. Both produced work that could not have existed otherwise.
The "3" split release brought together cÆNINEZ, Haggari Nakashe & gaop, and SMEGMASMOG. Three artists. Three tracks. Just under thirty minutes. The release demonstrates "just how interesting, layered, dynamic, and complex noise music can be" when practitioners push against genre conventions and each other's expectations. This is the function of the split format.
The Spirit of Jazz Compels You represents a more complex collaboration: a single 40-minute track released simultaneously via RZRecords, Splitting Sounds Records (Serbia), and Noyade Records (Russia). This is not technically a split, both Haggari Nakashe and gaop appear on the same track, but it shares the split's fundamental principle: collaboration across boundaries, trust across distance, work that cannot be attributed to a single origin point.
How to Coordinate a Split Release
1. Ask directly.
Do not send a form. Do not create a submission portal. Do not post an open call, although that might work sometimes. Do not ask for demos.
Email the artist. Direct message the artist. Speak to the artist after their set. Say: "I admire your work. I think our approaches would complement each other. Would you be interested in sharing a release?"
We have (almost) never received a negative response to this question. Artists want to collaborate. They are waiting for permission to ask. Give them permission.
2. Define territory.
Is this a true split? (Separate tracks by separate artists, usually interleaved: your track, their track, your track, their track, or side A/side B.)
Is this a collaboration? (Recorded together simultaneously, or one artist contributes to the other's track.)
Is this a remix split? (Artist A remixes Artist B's work, Artist B remixes Artist A's work.)
Is this a compilation? (Multiple artists, one release, no requirement for equal representation.)
Be explicit. Write it down. Send it to your collaborator. Confirm that you both agree on what you are making. An initial approach will help every party prep for the occasionn.
Or, experiment with the format, make, remake, take your time. But be ready for possible hardships that emerge when there's no clarity.
3. Choose a lead.
Someone must handle the administrative burden. Someone must coordinate artwork. Someone must upload to Bandcamp. Someone must communicate with distributors. Someone must write the release description.
This does not have to be the same person for every release. It does have to be someone. Splits fail when everyone assumes someone else is handling the boring parts.
4. Accept delays.
Life intervenes. Health emergencies. Family obligations. Equipment failures. Creative blocks. Loss of motivation. All of these are normal. All of these are acceptable.
We have split releases that took three years to materialize. We have split releases that we announced and then quietly abandoned. We have split releases that resurfaced years later when both parties finally had capacity. All of these outcomes are preferable to rushing work that is not ready.
Anomalous Trackologies Split was explicitly conceived to "help to put us back on track with our split series." We had underperformed in previous years. We had allowed life to interrupt momentum. The solution was not to wait for conditions to improve. The solution was to release something, anything, and let the act of releasing restore the habit of releasing.
Multi-Label Releases: Advanced Coordination
When multiple labels coordinate a single release, the complexity increases exponentially. Each label has its own catalog system. Each label has its own audience. Each label has its own expectations about promotional commitment.
Protocol we have developed through trial and error:
Agree on the master audio file. One person masters. One person approves the final master. Everyone else accepts that decision. You cannot have six people with six different opinions about the EQ curve. Choose one mastering engineer. Trust them.
Agree on the release date. This must be the same date across all platforms and all time zones. If RZRecords releases on March 15 and Splitting Sounds Records releases on March 22, you have sabotaged your own release. The second release will appear derivative of the first.
Coordinate announcement timing. All labels announce simultaneously. All labels link to all participants. All labels credit the other labels prominently. This is not about attribution. This is about demonstrating to your audiences that collaboration is possible and desirable.
Catalog numbers coexist. Our catalog number appears alongside their catalog number. Both are valid. Both are correct. The release exists simultaneously in multiple organizational systems. This is not confusion. This is abundance.
Difficulties will emerge, things will go wrong, people will err, that's OK.
The Spirit of Jazz Compels You was released as SSR-RR-0248 (Splitting Sounds Records) and RZR24SoSc (RZRecords). Both numbers appear on the Bandcamp page. Both numbers appear in promotional materials. Neither label claimed primacy. Neither label demanded top billing. The release belonged to both communities equally.
Part Four: Promotion Without Selling Out
The Paradox You Must Accept
You want people to hear your music.
You also might not want to become a content creator, an influencer, a brand strategist, or a social media manager. Those things require a lot of time, energy, know-how, and they're not for everyone. You did not get into experimental music to optimize engagement metrics. You got into experimental music because feedback and dissonance express something about the human condition that conventional harmony cannot.
This paradox is not resolvable. It is only manageable.
Solution: Separate your artistic identity from your promotional presence. Not entirely, the music must remain connected to its promotion, but sufficiently that you do not confuse creation with marketing.
YOU MIGHT NOT WAT TO DO THIGS, so don't. Do not make Instagram Reels of yourself recording. Do not film yourself reacting to your own music. Do not write marketing copy that sounds like marketing copy. Do not use phrases like "captivating listeners worldwide" or "highly anticipated follow-up."
You NEED to feel comfortable in your own skin, sometimes it's just about your artistry, sometimes you just want to make some noise.
Do post when you have something to share. Do write about why this release matters to you personally, emotionally, aesthetically. Do embed the Bandcamp player and let the music speak for itself. Do share other artists' work more frequently than you share your own. Participate online, contribute to your local scene, help others when you can.
SMEGMASMOG's "BLOOD STAINED SOIL" promotional text does not attempt to convince you that the album is good. It does not list accolades or favorable comparisons. It states: "THE TEARS OF OUR MOTHERS ARE TRANSFORMED INTO SIREN SCREAMS OF REMEMBERANCE. SEE THE PAIN OF OUR PEOPLE, HEAR OUR VOICE." This is not marketing. This is the work itself, extended beyond audio into text.
Working With Blogs and Reviewers
Do not send mass press releases. Do not cc forty email addresses. Do not follow up five times. Do not ask when the review will be published. Do not complain about the review if it is negative. BUT FEEL FREE TO DO SO IF THAT'S WHO YOU ARE.
Do identify specific writers who cover your specific micro-genre. This requires research. Read their publication. Understand their taste. Determine whether your release actually fits their coverage area.
Do send a personal, brief email. "I have followed your coverage of harsh noise wall for several years. My recent album engages with some of the themes you've written about regarding depressive blackened noise. I would be honored if you considered it for review."
Do include a streaming link and a download code. Do not require the reviewer to request access. Do not make them jump through hoops.
Do accept silence as an answer. Reviewers are overwhelmed. Your email may be lost. Your release may not fit their schedule. Your work may not interest them. None of these are personal attacks. Don't take it personally. Ping them again but be ready to move on.
Haggari Nakashe's "One Eighty Seven" received coverage because the writer had personal experience with seasonal affective disorder and recognized the authenticity of the work's emotional landscape. The review emerged from genuine connection, not promotional effort.
Social Media Without Burnout
Choose one platform. Master it. Abandon the rest.
BE READY TO ABANDON IT TOO IF IT DIES
We chose Instagram. Why? Because visual documentation of physical releases matters to our aesthetic. Because the square format accommodates album artwork. Because the ephemeral nature of Stories matches the ephemeral nature of limited-run cassettes. Because we can post a photo of a J-card and write a paragraph about the release without algorithm manipulation.
Another label might choose Twitter (X) for conversation threads about noise theory and genre taxonomy. Another might choose Discord for real-time community building and direct listener interaction. Another might choose YouTube for video documentation of live performances and studio sessions. Another might choose Mastodon for ideological alignment with federated, non-corporate platforms.
You do not need to be everywhere. It's OK to try, but some of us have less time or energy.
You need to be somewhere consistently. You need to be present enough that listeners can find you, contact you, and trust that you are still operational. You do not need to be posting daily. You do not need to be following trends. You do not need to be optimizing all day long.
RZRecords' Instagram presence is minimal. We post when we have releases. We post when we receive physical inventory. We repost artists who tag us. We repost stuff we like because sharing is caring. We do not use Stories unless there is urgent news. What is urgent news to a weird micro-label? We do not use Reels. That's a lie, we sometimes do. Our engagement is low. Our audience is small. We have possibly never gained a single listener through Instagram that we did not already reach through Bandcamp. But the platform serves its purpose: it exists, it is accurate, and it links back to our actual work.
Part Five: Common Mistakes We Have Made So You Don't Have To
The 100-CD Mistake (one case of many)
We pressed 100 CDs for a 2022 release. The artist was excited. The artwork was beautiful. The mastering was professional. The music was strong.
We have sold 23.
We have given away 40.
The remaining 37 live in a cardboard box in a closet. They accrue guilt with each passing year. We cannot sell them now because the release is no longer current. We cannot discard them because that feels like admitting defeat. We cannot ignore them because we encounter the box every time we search for shipping supplies. We just give them and other releases away from time to time, one unit at a time
DO THE MATH. Press small. Press often.
A run of 30 CDs sells out. A sold-out release creates demand. Demand justifies a second pressing. A second pressing sells to people who missed the first. This virtuous cycle is impossible if you over-press initially.
We know this intellectually. We continue to violate this principle. Do not emulate us. Emulate the version of us that learns from mistakes.
Look up on-demand-prints, those might help you to avoid the need to interact with people, ship stuff around. Selling merch at gigs is not for everyone, so is becoming an online merchant, it does not fit all.
The Streaming-Only Mistake
We released a 2023 album exclusively on streaming platforms. No Bandcamp. No physical. No direct sales path.
The logic: streaming reach would compensate for direct sales revenue. Streaming platforms have millions of users. Bandcamp has thousands. Surely the math favored the larger platform.
It did not.
Streaming reach for experimental music is a myth unless you are already famous. The algorithms do not promote harsh noise wall to listeners who primarily stream Taylor Swift. The playlists that feature experimental music have tiny followings compared to mainstream equivalents. The revenue per stream is so low that you need tens of thousands of plays to earn what Bandcamp pays for a single download.
Bandcamp is where your core listeners actually purchase and engage. Streaming is where your work exists for archival purposes and occasional discovery. Both have value. Neither is interchangeable. Do not abandon Bandcamp for streaming. Add streaming as a supplement, not a replacement. Research other platforms and communities, but remember that they're full of people that are constantly bombarded by artist that spam their music, and people don't just click on anything, and spam filters exist for a reason.
The Over-Explaining Mistake
Early RZRecords posts spent considerable energy justifying why our music was valid. Why noise deserved attention. Why experimental approaches were legitimate. Why dissonance could express emotion as effectively as melody. We did that for decades. We sometimes still do. It's a mechanism.
This is unnecessary.
The music justifies itself. Explanatory text should illuminate the work, not defend its existence. When you write "this album explores the relationship between sound and sadness through layered synth drones," you are helping listeners understand what they will hear. When you write "this is real music even though it doesn't have traditional song structures," you are arguing against an accusation no one has made.
There's an urge to defend music that's not universally liked. We know. We do it too.
Haggari Nakashe's "EXPLORING NOISE TEXTURES" post contains an interesting paradox: it explicitly states that rewriting the artist's promo text "would just harm the message, his message." This is defensible when the artist's own words are the clearest expression of the work. It becomes a liability when adopted as a universal policy. Trust your own voice. You are a curator, not a transmitter. Trust your own sound too. It's hard to do, but it helps you grow.
The Perfectionism Mistake
We have delayed releases for months chasing a perfect master. We have postponed announcements because the album title wasn't quite right. We have held finished recordings for weeks waiting for ideal release dates that never arrived.
The delay always harmed the release more than the imperfections would have.
A release that exists imperfectly can be heard, discussed, appreciated, criticized, and remembered. A release that does not exist cannot do any of these things. The perfect master you are chasing is imaginary. The album title you are waiting to discover will not arrive via revelation. The ideal release date is today.
gaop & Haggari Nakashe's "Experiments for Two Synths" is nine tracks of what the title promises: experiments. Not polished statements. Not definitive works. Experiments. The release exists because the artists accepted that "experiment" is a valid category, not a failure to achieve "album."
Part Six: Sustainability and Longevity
This Is Not a Career
Let us be extremely clear. Read this section carefully. Internalize it.
RZRecords has never made money.
We have sometimes broken even on specific releases. A $200 cassette run sells out, generating $200 in revenue. A Bandcamp release earns $50 in download sales, covering the $20 DistroKid fee and leaving $30 for the next release's artwork printing.
We have never broken even on the collective as a whole. The cumulative costs of unreleased experiments, unsuccessful promotions, unsold inventory, and uncompensated labor far exceed any revenue we have generated.
YOU MIGHT NEVER BREAK EVEN ON THE GEAR YOU OWN
That's the reality of underground music. Noise rarely becomes a huge hit.
This is not failure. This is the nature of the work.
Experimental music is not a viable career path for 99.9% of practitioners. You will not quit your job. You will not replace your income. You will not achieve financial stability through noise releases. These are not failures of effort or talent. These are structural realities of a niche cultural practice operating outside commercial systems.
Financial expectations:
Bandcamp revenue sometimes covers the next release's distribution fees
Cassette sales cover the next cassette duplication
CD sales (if any) cover shipping supplies
Profit is reinvested into future releases or does not exist
Loss is normal and expected, you'll buy equipment, pay for travel, bills will never stop coming in
Emotional expectations:
Most releases will receive minimal attention
Your favorite work will be your least heard
The people who do hear it will remember it disproportionately
The connections formed through collaboration will outlast any specific release
Twenty years later, you will still be doing this, not because it works but because it is who you are
cÆNINEZ, Haggari Nakashe & gaop, and SMEGMASMOG's "3" post contains the most honest assessment of this condition we have ever published: "With the sheer amount of music released every second, this testament to the remarkable side of noise might get lost to time, only to be occasionally remembered by the participants themselves. But such is always the nature and risk of music."
We wrote that. We meant it. We continue releasing anyway.
Archiving Your Work
You are the only person guaranteed to preserve your catalog.
Streaming services delist. Bandcamp pages expire. Hard drives fail. Websites are discontinued. Social media platforms collapse. The internet is not permanent. Commercial platforms have no obligation to maintain your work indefinitely.
Maintain:
A local backup of all master WAV files (not just MP3s, not just streaming-quality exports)
A local backup of all artwork at print resolution (300 DPI minimum, CMYK for print, RGB for digital)
A text document with release dates, catalog numbers, collaborators, and relevant context
Photographs of physical releases before they sell out or are damaged
Correspondence with collaborators that documents the creative process
Physical archive:
Keep two copies of every physical release
One for display, reference, and listening
One sealed, untouched, preserved
Store them in different locations if possible
You will want to revisit this work in ten years. You will want to hear what you were thinking, feeling, and expressing. You will want to share it with new collaborators who weren't present the first time. You will want to confirm that you existed, that you made sounds, that you left evidence.
Sabixatzil's "Calm Down" exists only digitally. This is a conscious choice that aligns with the album's minimalist aesthetic. It is also a preservation risk. We have discussed creating a small physical run specifically for archival purposes. We have not acted on this discussion. We should.
The Long Game: Twenty Years of Evidence
We started in the early 00s. The specific year is lost to memory and hardware failure. We have released intermittently since then, with periods of intense productivity and periods of near-total silence.
The through-line is not consistency. The through-line is persistence.
We have watched collaborators quit music entirely. We have watched labels disappear overnight. We have watched platforms that promised permanence become abandoned digital ghost towns. We have watched trends in experimental music emerge, dominate, and recede.
We are still here.
Not because we are talented. Not because we are strategic. Not because we have achieved anything resembling success.
We are still here because releasing music is not something we do. It is something we are.
Les Carnages Possibles, NishMa & gaop's "Honey & Cream" represents a collaboration across time: the original track "Honey Hunting" reimagined years later by gaop. The reimagining adds "delicate layers of synth drones, subtle hiss noises, and woodwinds, resulting in a beautiful and poignant tribute with a unique character of its own."
This is the long game. Not the immediate release, but the subsequent engagement. Not the original statement, but the response. Not the evidence, but the reinterpretation of evidence.
Part Seven: Advanced Considerations
Working Across Borders
International collaboration introduces complications: shipping costs, currency conversion, language barriers, time zones, and increasingly, customs regulations.
Our experience:
Shipping cassettes from the US to Europe costs approximately $15-25 for tracked packages. This often exceeds the cost of the cassette itself. Factor this into pricing or accept that international sales will be low-margin.
PayPal remains the standard for international payment. Bank transfers are too expensive. Cryptocurrency adoption is too inconsistent. Accept PayPal and build the fees into your pricing.
English is the default language for international experimental music communication. This is unfortunate but pragmatic. We have collaborated with Russian, Serbian, and Japanese artists using English as our common language. Machine translation tools help but cannot replace direct communication.
Time zone differences require asynchronous communication. Develop the patience to wait 12-24 hours or weeks for responses. Do not expect real-time conversation across more than three time zones.
The Spirit of Jazz Compels You involved labels in Serbia and Russia coordinating with artists in multiple locations. The collaboration succeeded because all parties accepted that communication would be slow, that misunderstandings would occur, and that trust would compensate for imperfect information exchange. Yes, we work with artists from both Ukraine and Russia. No, they don't have to work with each other and sometimes they'd rather not be mentioned together. People are people. The world is difficult. Art sometimes helps to bridge that.
Accessibility Considerations
Experimental music audiences include people with disabilities. Your release practices should account for this.
Audio:
Include volume normalization where possible. Extreme dynamic range can be physically painful for some listeners.
Provide lossless formats (FLAC, WAV) for listeners who require maximum audio clarity.
Avoid exclusive reliance on streaming platforms that force specific compression algorithms.
Visual:
Ensure your Bandcamp page and website are screen-reader compatible. This means alt text for images, descriptive links, and proper heading structure.
Use sufficient color contrast in artwork and text. What looks good in RGB may be illegible for visually impaired users.
Provide text descriptions of visual artwork for blind and low-vision listeners.
Physical:
Consider that cassette and CD packaging requires fine motor manipulation. J-cards are difficult to read. Discs are difficult to handle.
Offer digital alternatives to physical purchases. Do not force listeners to buy physical media they cannot use.
We have not consistently implemented these considerations. We are learning. We welcome guidance from disabled listeners and accessibility experts. We hear back from people that ask for stuff we've never even considered in the past. It's a never ending learning curve, and we do what we can.
When to Stop
This section is the hardest to write. The first urge is to NEVER STOP.
Sometimes you need to stop.
Sometimes a release is not working and will never work. Sometimes a collaboration is producing frustration rather than art. Sometimes a label has run its course. Sometimes the energy that sustained your practice for years has simply depleted. Sometimes a project was a result of a friendship, and now it's no more.
Stopping is not failure.
Stopping is recognition that conditions have changed. Stopping is acceptance that some projects do not reach completion. Stopping is permission to redirect your energy toward something else.
We have stopped projects. We have abandoned releases. We have let collaborations dissolve through silence rather than declaration. We have taken breaks that stretched into years.
We have always come back.
The music does not disappear because you stop releasing. The connections do not sever because you stop communicating. The evidence remains evidence whether you add to it today or five years from today. GIVE YOURSELF TIME TO LOVE, HEAL, RECUPERATE, GROW.
Conclusion: The Extremely Independent Manifesto
You do not need permission.
You do not need to be good enough, ready enough, or professional enough. You need to be done enough. You need to have completed something, however modest
