Philadelphia Weekly

On Wed., Jan. 23, the Redwalls played Letterman. This may not seem impressive considering the band's former credentials. They've appeared in a national ad campaign for Cingular, released a record on a major label and appeared on both Conan and Jay Leno.

But it meant the world to Drexel University seniors Ashley Vanett and Kate Guarrieri, members of the Redwalls' record label, a student-run indie called Mad Dragon.

Supported through Drexel's groundbreaking music industry program, Mad Dragon is an award-winning, fully functional independent record label that teaches students the business side of the music industry in a hands-on, professional environment that's as much education as serious business.

"We expect a lot out of these kids," Mad Dragon president Terry Tompkins says. "But I can't say any student of mine hasn't risen to the occasion. I think the idea that these artists' careers are in their hands makes them that much more driven."

Tompkins, a former A&R man for Columbia, came on board with Mad Dragon in 2003, bringing a slew of experience, contacts and know-how. His work and the work of his students are changing the focus of this School of Rock-style concept.

Until recently, Mad Dragon had been supporting local college radio darlings and coffeehouse folkies like Matt Duke, Jules Shear and Andrew Lipke. But with the addition of the Redwalls--and a distribution deal with Ryko signed last year--Mad Dragon is drawing national attention and quickly becoming a serious industry player.

"When Letterman happened, I was floored," Vanett gushes. "We negotiated the deal, we chose the setlist. We did it."

Outside the classroom, Vanett and Guarrieri are normal college seniors--unsure of what the future will bring, gearing up for finals and preparing resumes for their jump into the real-world career machine. But once they step into the classroom, they take on the role of music industry professionals, peppering their pre-class convos with talk of stage plots and lighting concepts.

Vanett and Guarrieri are on the team planning the annual Mad Dragon Artist Showcase. They have to fine-tune every facet of the event from the stage to security to the contracts. Guarrieri and other PR-minded students brainstorm grassroots promotion methods (custom paper kites, pink gorilla suits), and Vanett and another project manager discuss artist demands and staging logistics.

The only thing separating this from any Electric Factory planning meeting is that these execs-in-training are working for a grade instead of a buck.

And that's just the way the artists like it.

"They're not trying to make a profit, so that gives us a lot of freedom," Redwalls vocalist/bassist Justin Baren says.

Tompkins agrees. "Having all the resources and none of the overhead allows us to offer more customized options to the artist."

Despite a healthy share of bravado and swagger from these students, parts of the industry can be tricky and require a little oversight. Jesse Lundy is an adjunct professor to Mad Dragon students and professional manager to local acts like Lower Merion's the Brakes.

Lundy steers the class through the Redwalls contract for the showcase: "Many bands will include what's called a rider in their contract," Lundy says, projecting the contract on a screen. "A rider is as much a wishlist as a list of demands. Cross off the parts that aren't feasible. The band will include whatever they can get away with."

The class runs like a meeting where the teachers are more like well-educated peers than paternalistic overlords. The harsh realities of profit margins and earnings reports are again left to the grownups.

The harsh realities, though, are what seem to attract artists to Mad Dragon in the first place. In a tumultuous record industry that's seen two major conglomerates crumble in the last five years, artist development is a rare commodity.

"With the majors, you have 12 weeks after your record is released to make a serious impact," Baren says. "If nothing happens, promotion goes to shit."

Baren should know. He's experienced the perils of the business firsthand. After selling about 80,000 copies of their major-label debut album De Nova, the Redwalls were dropped by Capitol Records. As an act of (very rare) good faith, Capitol awarded the band full rights to their already complete second album.