SXSWORLD

Click for S U R V I V E Q&A. Photo by Dylan O'Connor SURVIVING UNSUSPECTED FAME By luke toRn SXSW.COM | N O V E M B E R 2 0 1 6 | SXS W O R L D 2 7  Veteran supervisor Holly Hung, whose stellar work enhances everything from The Hunger Games and the Harry Potter fran- chise to AT&T and BMW commercials, sums up the present landscape succinctly: "As long as it fits and tonally hits everything that it needs to hit, it doesn't matter if it's an indie band, somebody not signed, somebody just dropped ... if it works, it works."  For a prime example now of "what works," but with a twist, take S U R V I V E. For some seven years, the synth quartet made up of longtime childhood friends Mark Donica, Kyle Dixon, Michael Stein and Adam Jones quietly composed closets full of spooky, atmo- spheric material, releasing several indie albums of '70s-inflected ambience. Creative, unique, focused, and under-the-radar— S U R V I V E was just another Austin, Texas, combo forging its own daring path.  "I don't know any other bands that sound like us," surmises Jones, "so you could in fact say that our aesthetic sets us apart."  Commonly, artists are the ones trying every angle to break through and be heard by music supervisors or others, with artist solicitors highly outnumbering solicitees. For S U R V I V E, though, horror/sci-fi creators the Duffer Brothers called on them, pitching the band on composing for Stranger Things, the 1980s-heavy Netflix series, which is now one of 2016's surprise hits. S U R V I V E's score, including the eerie series theme, has since launched them into the national spotlight.  "The music industry is very weird and often arbitrary," observes Dixon. "We have been a self-promoting band for a long time, so it feels good to have more people listening to our music now."  "We always imagined our music would work well in films," confides Jones, "but we didn't compose anything on our records specifically for soundtracks. I don't know where slow, dark, instru- mental synth music fits into the world, but I am glad people dig it." Despite the sudden success, they don't have all eggs in the soundtrack basket. They're releasing their fourth album, and first for the Relapse label, this fall; which is a long way from s000, their 2011 debut, released on 15 hand-numbered cassettes.  "I think Stranger Things allowed a mass audience to under- stand how to enjoy our music," reflects Dixon, easily summarizing this new wrinkle in music marketing. "For a lot of people, they simply needed to know the context of our sound. People have always told us, 'You guys sound like you should do soundtracks for sci-fi/horror movies.' "  And whether through talent, timing or the random nature of the digital relam, like those before them, S U R V I V E is learning than it is better late than never to find an audience.  t may seem like ancient history, but once upon a time, the tightly controlled music industry laid out a musician's path to fame, assembly-line style ... Pay dues, sign to major label and then cross fingers that said label's promotional skills, especially in attracting radio airplay, would provide the needed traction. A select few reaped massive rewards, while even one-hit wonders were able to carve out reasonable careers.  Still, thousands of talented artists fell through the cracks, never to be heard from again. Others, including some of the most creative and groundbreaking, like Velvet Underground or Big Star, toiled under the radar, receiving passing popular glances at best and vir- tually no commercial success.  But in these days of playlist culture and hyper-social media, such processes of discovery and rediscovery are speeding up, becoming seemingly more random than ever, yet just as often synchronous in brand new ways.  Take Scottish folk-rockers the Proclaimers. An example of a band that tumbled to obscurity then crawled back out to find unex- pected fame and fortune, their arbitrary stroke of luck portended complex music-and-fame metrics much more prominent in today's pop culture landscape.  Led by twin brothers Craig and Charlie Reid, the Proclaimers released their debut album, Sunshine on Leith, in 1988. Though it received some U.S. college radio airplay and minor European chart action, the band was dormant by 1993. Enter Jeremiah Chechik, director of the romantic comedy Benny & Joon, who, with the support of its star Mary Stuart Masterson, inserted "I'm Gonna Be (500 Miles)" into the film's key scene. Soon enough, the group's amped-up paean to love and determination rose to #3 on the Billboard charts, and the song propelled the Proclaimers to a beneficent career undreamed of just a few years before.  "You couldn't have scripted it," remarked Charlie Reid at the time. "It was a total surprise to us and, I'm sure, to the record company as well."  Unlike Nick Drake, at least the Proclaimers were alive to enjoy their second act. When in 1999 Volkswagen chose Drake's dreamy "Pink Moon" to advertise its stylish Cabriolet convertible, the troubled, introvert songwriter who released three strong folk/ pop albums between 1969 and 1972 without even remotely threat- ening the charts—had been dead for a quarter century. Described by Rolling Stone as "one of pop music's cruelest ironies yet … one of pop music's luckiest breaks," the atmospheric ad caused sales of Drake's Pink Moon album to spike, reaching #5 on Amazon's sales charts.  Soundtracks, TV scores, advertising and video games all now provide discoverable moments for musical unknowns—be they dead or alive, one-time wonders or retired truck drivers. Meanwhile, a cottage industry of music supervisors, those who match music to media, has arisen. New-world synchronization now presents music in ways that the old radio-to-ears formula could never fathom.

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