How to Cultivate a Culture Where Creative Freedom Rules

Move over, Rover, and let Jimi take over. Jimi Hendrix’s Electric Ladyland unreleased album cover proof from Record Mecca.

In the original Warner Bros. Records Burbank office—located above the film studio’s ex-machine shop—a group of scrappy underdogs embraced a mantra handed down by their shaggy-haired boss: Look at how your job had always been done, smash that model to pieces, and rebuild it in better, smarter ways.

“Normal was fine for ordinary businesses. But pop music, like every other art form, required something a little more extraordinary,” writes Peter Aimes Carlin, author of the new book, Sonic Boom: The Impossible Rise of Warner Bros. Records, from Hendrix to Fleetwood Mac to Madonna to Prince.

From the 1960s on, the folks at Warner Bros. Records also produced music for Neil Young, Van Morrison, Grateful Dead and more. The organization operated according to its own playbook. Before they signed any big names, the team needed something—anything—to put out, so they released spoof albums with titles like Terribly Sophisticated Songs: A Collection of Unpopular Songs for Popular People and But You’ve Never Heard Gershwin with Bongos. These failed commercially, but they said something about the spirit of the place: If you followed a vision, were unafraid to experiment, knew that lasting success required risk and often ends in failure, you could take the risk. And if you failed honestly, that was just part of the larger process. Here are three ways the founding team at Warner Bros. Records cultivated a culture where creative freedom ruled.

They Rid the Place of Standard Thinking
Warner Bros. Records often hired people who were funny, passionate, and had never before worked for record companies. Take Stan Cornyn, who developed the early ad campaigns. “To anyone who knew the advertising game, it was a shockingly bad hire,” writes Aimes Carlin. “Stan had no experience in advertising and what’s more, he was proud of it.” Cornyn’s strategy to stand out? Absurdist humor. When an early Randy Newman album didn’t garner much customer interest, Cornyn wrote a print ad that said, “Once you get used to it, his voice is really something.” The copy showed the company could laugh at itself—while remaining confident in the music—and was up for anything. What’s more, Cornyn’s advertising department started receiving fan mail.

They Showed They Had Nothing to Hide
The crew at Warner Bros. Record put out a free weekly newsletter, Circular, that promoted new music and doubled as an insider’s portrait of the company. It even covered embarrassing subjects, like lousy sales on certain albums. One memorable cover story was titled “This Really Sucks” and it was a collection of angry fan letters. “At Warner, you took the bad with the good and put it all out there for everyone to see, because…why not?” writes Aimes Carlin. “Because nobody’s perfect trying to pretend otherwise was just another shuck. Plus, it was fun.” And fun’s the thing.

They Were Daring and Unprecedented
One of the most important things those at Warner Bros. recognized in the 1970s was that musical tastes were changing. Whereas many old-line record companies viewed their artists as interchangeable “widgets” whose work amounted to distractions for high school kids, the Warner Bros. team understood rock ‘n’ roll fans were affluent, well-educated young people. Because the world was changing, Warner Bros. Records way of doing business had to change along with it. “Simply put: Invest in your artists, and their music,” writes Aimes Carlin. “Give them the time and tools they need to be creative. Let them follow their muses.” And take for granted that the next big thing might sound nothing like what came before.