Good Karma in Stereo

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Kaulkin is a former journeyman musician and microlabel owner whose empathetic ears and curatorial approach to Anti-’s roster have won him the respect of anyone in the music business who still cares about good music. Kaulkin’s autonomy at Anti- makes the label an extension of his own sensibilities.

 “Andy is clearly a devoted fan,” says Peter Jesperson, a senior vice president of artists and repertoire at the roots music label New West Records, where he has found himself competing with Kaulkin for artists. “He’s also a musician, which gives him perspective and advantage. I feel a real kinship with him, as far as being passionate about the artists we work with and music in general.”

Kaulkin may be a music geek, but he knows how to run the business. A veteran of several small labels including one owned by former Stax Records president Al Bell, Kaulkin got his start at Epitaph handling its data management system and rose to become the label’s president from 1996 to 1998. He then started Anti- and devoted all his attention to the new label, which debuted in 1999 with Waits’ Mule Variations.

Because of Kaulkin’s singular focus and integrity, Anti- doesn’t resemble a typical indie label so much as it does a mainstream label from the early ’70s such as Elektra, embracing an ecumenical vision that doesn’t bother with narrowcasting to a specific slice of the market.

“The label is for artists who are not trying to do something that’s trendy,” Kaulkin told Reuters last year. “They’re following their own path, and they have an understanding of music history without being beholden to it. It doesn’t matter what genre it is. You can do that in any genre, and you can do that at any age.”

Kaulkin’s work with Solomon Burke, the majestic soul belter, is a prime example of the Anti- honcho’s instinct for recording musical greats without succumbing to a conservative or calculated approach. Kaulkin isn’t looking for the big score at the Starbucks display case. He just wants a good record out of the deal.

It seems that Burke was about to sign with Virgin in 2001 to make a lame record of duets with guest singers (think of the inevitable Willie Nelson cameo) when Kaulkin pitched him on the idea of making a vibrant album of original material.

Kaulkin handed Burke an advance check and vowed that he would commission a bunch of songwriters who were fans to write songs for him. Kaulkin aimed high: Bob Dylan, Van Morrison, and Brian Wilson were among those who said yes. Burke signed on.

“Andy didn’t want the Burke album to be a nostalgia project,” says Joe Henry, who convinced Kaulkin to let him produce Don’t Give Up on Me. “We wanted it to be authentic but not a retread.” Instead of a blustery R&B workout, Kaulkin and Henry made a quiet, rootsy album using rock musicians, a record that might fit snugly on public radio station playlists. “These writers give Burke plenty of room to work his slow-cooked magic,” wrote Tom Moon in a four-star review for Rolling Stone, pointing out that the songs all “share one essential trait: They wouldn’t be nearly as rousing sung by anybody else.” Don’t Give Up on Me wound up selling upwards of 300,000 copies and appearing on countless year-end best-of lists. More important, Anti-, Burke, and Henry all saw a piece of the profits. Kaulkin had pulled off an improbable coup: He made a great record from an older artist that sold well.

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