When Family Business Becomes Big Business

It’s the first Sunday of October, and LaRussell jumps onto the stage, framed by the backyard pergola beneath the Vallejo sun. With a huge smile, he rips off his brown cape adorned with a Good Compenny logo and and points his finger toward the crowd.

“Game Sevennnnn…,” he says, as the 200-person crowd roars, cameras click and smiles spread on the faces of fans, many holding merchandise bags and wearing Good Compenny T-shirts that read “This is a Family Business.” Indeed, the scene is infused with family: babies are bounced on their parents’ laps, children laugh, and a bouncy house in the front whirrs.

For LaRussell, 29, this is the final sold-out “pergola” show of 2023. These one-of-a-kind concerts, held in his parents’ backyard, have brought over a thousand guests to Vallejo this summer alone to experience LaRussell’s lyricism — to say nothing of the delicious food, other talented artists’ performances, and the chance to watch LaRussell’s collective Good Compenny make history.

LaRussell’s influence has grown significantly this past year. He’s sold out shows across the country, accumulated nearly a million followers on Instagram, performed at major events and festivals and championed Vallejo every step of the way — all independently.

And while LaRussell’s community support has never been greater, there are some new faces here in the backyard audience: music executives. LaRussell has often been transparent about his business practices, and partway through the show, he makes a sudden announcement. He’s considering signing with a major label.

From the backyard to the boardroom

The executives in the backyard, LaRussell later clarifies, work for Def Jam — the legendary hip-hop record label that’s owned by Universal Music Group, the largest music company in the world. And while signing a record deal with Def Jam would mean a sizable cash advance — the hypothetical figure he’s cited is $1 million — it would also mark a surprising break from LaRussell’s reputation as a staunchly independent artist.

A few years ago, LaRussell began reimagining how creatives are compensated. His “proud to pay” model allows fans to determine their own price, subject to approval, for his tickets and merchandise. He’s also known for “splitting the pie” — sharing royalties not only with those involved in the creative process, but interested fans who want to invest across LaRussell’s income streams, including recordings, merchandise and shows.

Jason Hayes, a photographer and creative director who frequently collaborates with LaRussell, says that without the early profit share in projects he contributed to, he periodically wouldn’t have had money in his pocket.

“It kept gas in the tank and allowed me to go out and continue making money,” says Hayes.

LaRussell also utilizes a service that lets people buy his albums before they stream on major platforms; he characterizes it as a contemporary version of selling records out the trunk. For his Family Business album, released in October, LaRussell sold over a thousand albums this way, directly to fans, generating more than $25,000 in sales.

Because of this audience involvement, signing with a major label would affect LaRussell’s fans, too. After the show in the backyard, some approached him about it. One expressed unwavering support, whether LaRussell stays independent or not. Another was deeply concerned, telling him that he simply can’t sign, and that he means too much to the independent community.

LaRussell, who the day before posted that “I could just sign a deal, but that’s not where my heart lies,” listened to every comment. “I really do feel like an artist of the people,” LaRussell told me later. “I do take into consideration how the people are affected, because I know they’re inspired by my journey too.”

As for me, I kept thinking of what I’d seen just 24 hours earlier, 3,000 miles away.

‘Made it off them cotton fields’

The day prior to the show, I was in rural North Carolina with fire ants running across my toes along a path lined with red bricks inscribed with dedications like “Dennis, No Age Given, Enslaved,” “Rowena, No Age or Gender, Enslaved,” and “Mary, Female, Aged 4 or 6, Enslaved.” Further down the path stood a magnolia tree where it’s believed the whipping post once stood.

This was the Franklinton Center at Bricks, a former “breaking” plantation where enslaved people were taken if they were considered disobedient. I was there with grassroots organizations from across the country to capture multimedia stories of those doing work in public schools: protecting queer students in class, tackling the school-to-prison pipeline, advocating for language equity, demanding proper funding and more.

As I spoke with college students from Florida, high school students from Georgia, parents from North Carolina and teachers from Louisiana, I felt hope for what could come with so many amazing people working toward shared goals. At the same time, I was overcome with grief for every person who had once walked on this land, bound to its edges.

After the conference, I took a six-hour flight and drove straight to LaRussell’s family home, where I’d watched him perform multiple backyard shows before. But this time, when he rapped “made it off them cotton fields, now we’re on them stages,” the sentiment resonated more than ever.

I’d talked with so many people in North Carolina about building a strong community and staying authentic while growing equity, autonomy and agency — a rare thing, which LaRussell has clearly achieved. And to some fans and supporters, signing with a global conglomerate would be in direct opposition to what he stands for. What happens to LaRussell now? What happens to Good Compenny? Is he selling out?

Building Disneyland at home in Vallejo

When we talk later, LaRussell’s reasoning is straightforward: he needs assistance to achieve his dreams of reaching as many people as he aspires to within his desired timeframe. And, as he’s continued to expand Good Compenny, he’s now at a crossroads.

I’m here at the compound—a residential and commercial unit in Vallejo where LaRussell moved this year with five of his team members. Having gotten his start in the family garage, LaRussell continuously talks about building his own “Disneyland,” and the compound is a part of it. LaRussell plans to turn it into an all-in-one creative hub, with a storefront, editing lab, photo studio, recording studio and even housing. To get it off the ground, it will cost him an estimated $250,000.

Manny, the owner of Momo’s — LaRussell’s favorite restaurant in Vallejo — is here too, and he asks the same questions that have been on my mind.

“So what happens to Good Compenny? Is everything going to change?” Manny says.

LaRussell explains that were he to sign a deal, it would be with him as an artist, and not a subsidiary label deal with Good Compenny, which is a 501(c)(3) organization. His cash advance would be a welcome relief after years of funding his career out of his own pocket, and could help him get projects off the ground. He also met directly with the president of Def Jam, with whom he had a candid conversation, and left feeling that his value was understood both inside and outside the recording booth.

At the same time, LaRussell isn’t naive. He’s cognizant of the music industry’s hierarchy. Def Jam has a Black president and a largely Black roster, but Universal Music Group, its parent company, is run by a white CEO.

“That’s the thing that makes me a little nervous about going into the system too,” LaRussell says. “Because every time we build something substantial as Black people, we sell it to white people.”

Tietta Mitchell, LaRussell’s partner and manager, has provided consistent support for LaRussell’s success as he navigates the complexities of fame and business. She’s cautious about any partnership LaRussell enters.

“I’m never super hasty on any of the deals that we do, regardless of if it’s a major label or not,” she explains. “Once you do a deal with somebody, you’re kind of in bed with them for whatever that deliverable time is.”

Her primary concerns revolve around preserving LaRussell’s vision and creative control, and ensuring his peace. She also emphasizes that LaRussell’s success isn’t reliant on securing a deal; his accomplishments to date prove it. Any potential deal with a label, she says, will only be pursued if it aligns with the values and vision of Good Compenny.

Whatever happens in the next couple months — LaRussell should know whether or not he’s signing to Def Jam by the end of the year — the fans will remain a large part of that vision.

“I woke up this morning and I was in a slump,” LaRussell tells me at his house. “I was kind of sad. And a lady last night sent me $50,000, a wire. And I got up off my ass because I was like, ‘People believe in you,’ right?” said LaRussell.

We wrap up our conversation, LaRussell jumps off his couch and returns to the recording booth in the house, with his roommate and good friend Chow behind the computer, continuing to work on his next album — whatever label it might be on.