10/03/2024
When my husband and I signed the lease for an empty space on a rough block of Wyckoff Ave 10 years ago, we had a dream—a two-story studio sketched on a napkin that we showed to a friend over brunch. The first thing they said was, "Can you get your deposit back?"
Outwardly, most of our friends supported us. In their own ways, they believed in us. But honestly, many thought we were crazy, even if they didn’t say it out loud. None of them saw what we saw, and that was okay. What they *did* witness was a lot of chaos, uncertainty, and sacrifice that eventually led to the creation of BINGE as a record label.
But building BINGE came at a deep personal cost. If we were going to lose so much, it had to be for a good reason—and that reason was to change how art was made.
We were sick of watching our friends and loved ones being exploited by this toxic industry. So we decided to stop it, at least with us. That’s when we transitioned from being a recording studio to becoming a label. That was the birth of BINGE. We hung up our ethos downstairs, printed on a poster for us to look at every day. These were tough words to live by—because let’s face it, humans are imperfect, and we were far from perfect.
I’m the last person to claim perfection. I’m the opposite. I wake up every day and choose chaos, and I'm surrounded by deeply damaged, toxic people. But what I love about the experiment at BINGE—and the hope it brings to me and to the world—is the possibility of a better future. While I have the capacity to cause harm, I also have the capacity for good, supported by the structure and love of my tribe. There *is* a better way. I've done it. I've proven it. It's worked. And honestly? I’m glad Diddy is going down.
BINGE made big promises.
BINGE kept them.
Come at us.
