Catching Up with the Numero Group
By Bob Bozorgmehr
History,they say, is written by the winners. But for Chicago-based
reissuelabel the Numero Group, the story of music's losers - the
would-berecord moguls, the shoulda-been stars, and the hit records
no one heard- is infinitely more interesting. "For us," says Numero
co-owner KenShipley, "the attraction is that this music and these
records are likestrange cultural obscurities and anomalies. They're
untapped andundiscovered, just waiting to be found."
Launched by Shipley and partner Tom Lunt three years ago, the
efforts of the Numero Group
(
www.numerogroup.com)have evolved into a kind
of ongoing musical rescue mission. Numerooften provides a second
chance for the artists and label owners whonever tasted any kind of
success the first time around. Case in point:Bill Moss's Columbus,
Ohio, label Capsoul. Conceived as a sort ofmini-Motown in 1970, the
company never got off the ground, despite aslew of talented artists
and memorable songs. Frustrated, Moss quit thebusiness and forgot
about the label for the next three decades,becoming a respected
member of the local school board - before he wasapproached by
Numero to release a Capsoul anthology in 2004. (Mosspassed away
last year, having finally enjoyed a flush of nationalattention
following the release of the disc.)
It's easy to seewhy Shipley can empathize with the Bill Mosses of
the world: At age 17,he started his own ill-fated label, Tree
Records, before going on toserve as a regional A&R director and
product manager for Rykodisc.He met Lunt, a well-respected ad exec,
at a record store in 2001.There, they bonded over a mutual love of
cult pop band Big Star,Peruvian music, and the Verve/Impulse
catalog; in 2003, the pairdecided to go into business together.
Seeking out projects with curiousand unusual backstories, the label
has uncovered a fascinating mix ofmusic - ranging from
The Glory
Road, a forgotten 1958 albumfrom traveling Christian missionary
Fern Jones, to an anthology of theBandit label, a bizarre R&B
enterprise run by the ruthless ArrowBrown and funded by, let's just
say,
unusual sources.
Likean art gallery, the label frequently enlists a guest “curator” for itsreleases. The Capsoul disc was conceived by
Chicago DJ and recordcollector Rob Sevier, who’s since joined Shipley and Lunt as part ofthe team. The three men regularly spend time digging in the record binsof junk shops for ideas. “People want music that’s slightly off thebeaten path,” says Shipley. “They just don’t know how to find it. Whatwe’ve done is do the work for you. We make cool records for people whodon’t have the time to go and search for this stuff.”
Now averaging half a dozen titles per year, their most recent spate of discs includes
Wayfaring Strangers: Ladies from the Canyon — a compilation of private press recordings made by a cast of female folk artists in the early ’70s — and
Good God! A Gospel Funk Hymnal,a set of obscure funk-inspired ’70s gospel sides. “More than anything,”says Shipley, “the goal is to save these recordings to show that thisstuff really is worthwhile art. We just try and treat the reissues withthe same love and respect people put into making the music in the firstplace.”