The Majestic Twelve

By William Cane

Photo by Dan Rohde

In 2002, songwriter Kenyata Sullivan’s band, The Majestic Twelve, quietly self-released their debut CD, Searching for the Elvis Knob. Originally intended for friends only, the album was scarcely promoted through printed press or radio, and the band rarely played live to support it. Yet somehow, Sullivan says, “People kept buying it.” The band shipped 1,000 copies, then two, and internet blogs everywhere began to give positive reviews. After selling over 5,000 copies, The Majestic Twelve began to ask themselves: “What would happen if we tried?”

Once the public face for notorious 1990s indie band Pandora’s Lunchbox, Sullivan had enjoyed some past success — but always, and sometimes ferociously, on his own terms. “We were part of an aggressively DIY movement that was very anti-major label,” he says. “In fact, we were approached by at least a subsidiary of all of the big five and had a reputation not only for saying no but at times having physical confrontations with record label representatives.” Having launched fanzines, compilations and independent records since his teens, Sullivan had both a strong belief system and a reputation to uphold.

Sullivan chose to disband Pandora’s Lunchbox in 1997 after his grandmother needed his full-time caretaking. By then, he had started the annual WE Festival, held in Wilmington, North Carolina. The WE Festival, which is still thriving, is a non-commercialized means for bands to showcase and network in the independent music community. With the growing popularity of WE, the personal music that Sullivan had so militantly nourished and protected with Pandora’s Lunchbox had faded into the background. “I thought I was done,” he says, “and that was fine. I was going to write songs on my porch for my kids, about dogs and trucks and girls and whatever.”

Friend and guitarist Alex Alexander occasionally tried to coddle Sullivan into re-emerging, however, and eventually he got his way. Teaming up with engineer/producer Jerry Kee (Superchunk, Polvo) and guitarist Joey Stewart, The Majestic Twelve’s first incarnation used Sullivan’s then-recent solo demos as a foundation for Searching for the Elvis Knob. “We didn’t think anyone was going to pay any attention to [Elvis Knob],” Sullivan notes. “We mailed it to our friends and said, ‘OK, that was fun.’“ Five-thousand copies later, Sullivan and crew decided to plan the release of Schizophrenology, their much-anticipated follow-up, much more tactfully: “We got a publicist and a promoter ... to see what happens.”

“Being an independent musician does not mean that you take all these [previously successful] models and you have to replicate them,” Sullivan advises. “If you really want to win, you’ve got to find new ways to win. Our entire concept of intellectual property has got to change; everything is different now, and most people don’t see it.” Embracing the internet’s substantial impact on recorded music, The Majestic Twelve have chosen to release their new album for free. Anyone with an internet connection can visit their website and, with a few clicks of a mouse, have all 11 songs in mp3 form. Rather than a forfeiture of profit, however, Sullivan considers this technique a career-spanning means of free promotion. “One of the great [music industry] lies is that artists make a lot of money on record sales. We think of a record as just an advertisement for us,” he says. “We want to do that as a model. This isn’t like a one-time-promotional-one-off to try and get our name out there. We always want the new record to be free.” Sullivan’s lifelong refusal to sign with a major label has enabled him to retain all of his intellectual property, which he hopes will one day turn into profit by way of publishing and commercial licensing.

In the meantime, the sarcastic, political song “Condoleezza, Check My Posse” has been turning heads on MySpace (and even the Dr. Demento show), and seemingly every day a new blogger or independent DJ discovers, and inevitably praises, Schizophrenology. Sullivan continues to take (evidently good) care of his still-kicking grandmother, so The Majestic Twelve plays out only a few times a year. “I don’t know if it’s a hobby, or a job, or what it is,” Sullivan concludes. “Just guys doing what they fucking love and figuring out the best way.”

www.themajestictwelve.com