MANIFESTO

Iodine began releasing records in 1998, growing out of the same DIY world that shaped everything we still care about today. There was never much of a master plan. We wanted to work with bands we loved, make records we were proud of, and help music move through a community that had largely built its own infrastructure.

Labels like Dischord, Ebullition, and Jade Tree showed us what an independent record label could be. Their catalogs had identities. The music mattered, but so did the artwork, packaging, photography, typography, and the way a record felt when you finally held it in your hands. Everything seemed considered. A release could feel special before you ever put the needle down. That idea stuck with us: if we were going to ask someone to spend money on a record, it should feel worth owning and keeping.

What started small grew quickly. The catalog expanded, we moved into an office in Boston, and for a while it felt like Iodine might become the thing we had imagined. Then the ground shifted. By the early 2000s, the way people consumed music was changing faster than a small independent label could adapt. Production costs climbed while CD sales fell, even as the bands themselves were doing better than ever. Shows were packed, merch was moving, people were listening. But fewer people were buying the records that paid for the next one.

After putting everything we had into releases like There Were Wires' Somnambulists, Iodine eventually ran out of road. The label closed, and for a long time that felt less like the end of a business than leaving something unfinished.

Nearly two decades later, Somnambulists brought us back. What began as a conversation about returning the record to print became the first release of a new Iodine. There was no five-year plan for a relaunch. One record led to another. Old friends came back. New artists reached out. Records we had loved for years suddenly had an opportunity for another life. The industry was completely different, but the reason for doing any of it felt remarkably familiar: get music we believe in to people who might believe in it too.

The second life of Iodine has also created some strange and meaningful full-circle moments. We've been able to work with the Big Wheel Recreation catalog, a label whose records we loved and people we looked up to long before Iodine ever found its footing. We helped return music from Hydra Head Records to circulation, another catalog that helped define the underground music landscape we came from. Alongside those archival projects, we continue releasing new music from artists pushing forward now. That mix of new work and returning records has become a defining part of what Iodine is today. The past matters here, but not because we're interested in living in it.

Iodine today isn't an attempt to recreate the label that existed twenty-five years ago. It's a continuation of it, with more experience, more perspective, and the same fundamental obsession with music and physical records. We still sweat the artwork. We still care about the packaging. We still believe the details matter. And we're still here because there is music we want people to hear.