Kaitlin Fontana

Interviews Web Exclusive Nov 2011

By Ian GormelyVancouver's Mint Records might not seem like the most likely candidate for the oral history treatment. While it's had its share of successes ― cub, Neko Case, the New Pornographers ― many of the bands on its roster remain relatively unknown or forgotten outside of the Pacific Northwest. But as Kaitlin Fontana reveals in her new book, Fresh at Twenty: The Oral History of Mint Records, the secret to Mint's success has been it's ability to fly under the radar while continuing to release great records year after year.

How did this book come about? Did you approach Mint or did they ask you to write it?
I did it myself. I've been a music writer for about ten years. I was writing for a Seattle weekly called Sound, which doesn't exist anymore. It's a shame because it was all about Northwest [music]. There's a huge relationship between the scenes. I ended up writing this state of the union on the Vancouver scene at the time, which was the beard rock thing with Stephen McBean / Black Mountain / Pink Mountaintops. This would have been 2009. As part of that I was doing some historical context so I started looking into Mint and talking to [Mint co-founder] Bill Baker. He was really funny ― self deprecating and dryly witty. I thought, "This guy's a good subject." He also casually said "The label's 20th anniversary is coming up, whatever." And I was like, "No, this is a big deal." Over the next few months I was thinking about it a lot, like "This should be a book." Finally I went back to [Bill and Mint co-founder Randy Iwata] and said "How would you feel if I wrote a book about you." And they said, "I don't know, do you think there's a good story?" cause that's kind of their style. And then I did.

So Bill and Randy were totally on board?
Yeah, more or less. They were in a tough position and I'm really grateful to them. I spoke to them for probably 15 hours about the last 2- years of their lives ― their entire professional lives. Their entire adult lives as well. That takes a lot to tell someone things about your life story. I think at time they thought, "Why did I agree to this?" and at other times I think they enjoyed the process.

They're the only two who pop up throughout the entire book.
Yeah, it's their story at its heart. It's easy to think "Oooh, Carl Newman or Neko Case or whatever." But it's harder to say that these two guys are the underdog heroes in this tale. We should be paying attention to them.

You start the book by going back to some of Vancouver's early punk scene with bands like D.O.A. and the Pointed Sticks and you especially single out Slow. What role did they play in creating that scene that allowed Mint to succeed?
I think it was an inspirational role, rather than a direct one. There's a bit of a gap in Vancouver's music history. There was stuff going on, but in that gap ― the '80s ― you would find Loverboy and hair bands and Bryan Adams. And that's what emerged in that era. But before that there was this very potent scene. When Bill and Randy were young men, Bill tried to be a punk and failed. It was too scary and he's kind of a nerd and loveable. And then Randy and his sister got into a lot of the alternative-punk stuff listening to CITR. But I would say [those bands] got them into the idea of why music's great and why they wanted it to be part of their lives. There wasn't a direct link except in the case of Slow, for which there is a very direct line to the beginnings of Mint. [Slow's rhythm section went on to form Tankhog, who were part of Mint's very first release, a split seven-inch with Windwalker.] I think it helped them find direction in those early days. They were trying to be a Sub Pop for Vancouver but weren't quite sure what they were. Through cub they kind of figured that out.

It's funny that you mention Bill finding the punk scene too scary. To me, cub is similar. Like, Bikini Kill are to political and screamy for some people, but they can do cub.
They're not as in your face. But a lot of the lyrical content is really dark and people kind of miss that sometimes. That's what's great about them. New Pornographers are the same way. There's all these lush pop harmonies happening and then you look at the lyrics and they're all about death and suicide and dismemberment and all those kind of things. I think that's a neat thread. And that's a Vancouver symptom too. It's all beautiful on the surface but any second something dark could come through. I think that's the thematic link between all these bands.

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