Uma Gravadora (Matador Records) Teve Que Destruir Todos Novos Vinis! Por Causa De Uma Música Do "The Cars"

Why a Record Label Crushed a Batch of Vinyl Records

Matador Records scrambles for a new pressing after it recalled a Car Seat Headrest album that used parts of a Cars hit

Singer Will Toledo of Car Seat Headrest performed during the Do512 SXSW party on March 14, 2016 in Austin, Texas. PHOTO: SCOTT DUDELSON/GETTY IMAGES

Manhattan headquarters of Matador Records, employees chucked thousands of brand-new copies of an acclaimed album into a garbage truck, which crushed the CDs and vinyl records and carted them away. 

It was a rudely physical coda to a dispute over intangibles: a song’s lyrics and melody. Matador artist Will Toledo, an indie rocker who records under the name Car Seat Headrest, had woven elements of a 1978 hit by the Cars, “Just What I Needed,” into one of his songs. Mr. Toledo and Matador believed they had secured the necessary approval to release the Car Seat Headrest album featuring the hybrid song. But a publishing company representing Cars songwriter Ric Ocasek denied them permission after learning that some of Mr. Ocasek’s lyrics had been changed.

By that time, about 10 days before the May 20 release of the Car Seat Headrest album, “Teens of Denial,” all physical copies—about 5,800 vinyl LPs and 3,700 CDs—had already been shipped to distributors and record stores. Matador issued a recall, the first in the label’s 27-year history, and scrambled to salvage the project. Mr. Toledo created a version of the song without material from “Just What I Needed.” Matador swapped it in to get a digital version of the album out on time. In between documenting and destroying the recalled recordings, the label fast-tracked the vinyl pressing of the replacement album, a process that typically takes several months. 

Mr. Toledo, who is 23 years old, is Car Seat Headrest’s singer, guitar player and sole songwriter. The four-person group has built buzz since Mr. Toledo started putting out music while in college in Virginia. His album snag reflects broader forces in the music industry, such as the revival of vinyl records and the antiquated factories that make them. Vinyl sales, which have risen for 10 years, amount to just 6% of total music retail, according to the Recording Industry Association of America. However, at $416 million in 2015, vinyl sales were higher than revenue from ad-supported music streams on services like YouTube, indicating the lingering importance of physical releases in a world dominated by digital.

Mr. Toledo’s run-in with the rocker behind some of the catchiest hits of the ’70s and ’80s also underscores the power of music publishing, which encompasses the rights to songs as written compositions. It’s a hugely important piece of intellectual property for songwriters trying to supplement sales and streaming revenue with fees from, for example, placing their music in TV commercials or movies.

For veteran acts such as Mr. Ocasek, with a thick catalog of familiar songs, publishing rights not only can supply lifelong profits, they also can be used to promote music to new generations of fans—or shield it from unwelcome uses.

In the original version of Mr. Toledo’s song (previously titled “Just What I Needed/Not Just What I Needed”) he played a syncopated guitar riff borrowed from the Cars hit. Then, after some verses of his own, he quoted the Cars tune but changed Mr. Ocasek’s line from “It’s not the ribbons in your hair” to “It’s not the way you cut your hair.” 

Mr. Ocasek controls his songs through a company called Lido Music, which relies on Universal Music Publishing Group to administer access to the catalog. Universal said the original Car Seat Headrest request that was approved didn’t disclose that the lyric had been changed. After learning of the lyric change, Lido Music said in a statement, the song was blocked because “it is our policy that no lyric changes are ever approved.”

Mr. Ocasek declined to comment.

After his request to use Mr. Ocasek’s work was denied, Mr. Toledo said, he re-recorded the introduction to his song. He replaced the Cars lyrics with a snippet of one of Car Seat Headrest’s songs from a previous album, played backward. The new title: “Not What I Needed.” 

Matador Records expects to lose at least $50,000 on the effort, including what the label had paid to ship the original LPs from a German pressing plant, at about $2 per unit. “When we do the final P&L on this project, it’s not going to look great,” said Rusty Clarke, vice president of sales for Beggars Group, which comprises six record labels, including Matador.

Before a recent performance in Brooklyn, Mr. Toledo said he regretted Matador’s financial hit but didn’t mourn the destroyed records. Before signing with Matador, he self-recorded 11 releases—initially using his car as a recording studio, hence his moniker—and released his recordings independently through the music site Bandcamp. “I grew up releasing music digitally, and I never put out physical records before signing to Matador, so this album release in all practicality looks about the same as what I’m used to,” Mr. Toledo said.

Still, the recall leaves him empty-handed on tour, where he could be selling the new LPs or CDs to fans at concerts. 

The vinyl stock of “Teens of Denial” is expected to be replaced in early July by Independent Record Pressing, a plant near Trenton, N.J., that opened last year. Making IRP’s job more painstaking: the fact that “Teens of Denial” is a double LP. The pressing company will save and “quarantine” the records (featuring sides C and D) that didn’t include the offending song. After IRP presses the replacement records (featuring sides A and B), employees will insert them into the new sleeves (with revised credits) and seal them for shipping. 

IRP, built around six refurbished presses from the ’70s and ’80s, produces about 4,000 records a day and is about to double its output by adding a second shift of workers, says general manager Sean Rutkowski. 

“I think we’re turning a corner, production-wise. For years, people were nervous to invest in it” because they expected the vinyl fad to die down, says Cameron Schaefer, head of music and label relations at Vinyl Me, Please, a subscription service that delivers an exclusive LP to members each month. Launched in 2013, the Boulder, Colo., startup had worked with Matador to create a special edition of the Car Seat Headrest album—750 copies on yellow vinyl.

Copies of Car Seat Headrest's LP ‘Teens of Denial’ sat in a box in the Matador loading dock, waiting to be destroyed PHOTO: COLE WILSON FOR THE WALL STREET JOURNAL

For collectors, however, the more coveted edition of “Teens of Denial” is the recalled original. After hearing about the recall, Steve Gray, a photographer in Bangor, Maine, went online on the album’s release date and searched the inventory of a regional chain of brick-and-mortar record stores called Bull Moose. He hit the Bangor location just after the doors opened at 9 a.m. and found a single copy of the LP, for $26 plus tax.

Later, he poked through the shrink wrap just enough to verify that both LPs were inside. He posted a picture of his score in a forum on the Vinyl Me, Please site, where a handful of other members claimed to have received copies of the recalled record shipped by Amazon.com.

To protect his find, Mr. Gray doesn’t plan to play it on the turntable he got for his birthday a couple of years ago. Instead, he’s been streaming “Teens of Denial” on Spotify.