By Nicole Belcastro.
Today, it’s a haven for artists and musician— many of them bands that tour the US and the world— who can rent affordable space to rehearse, store their equipment, and create right here in Dorchester.
It’s managed and leased by The Record Co., a non-profit now led by Bobby Boyd, a Dorchester resident with deep roots in Boston’s music community, who walked The Reporter through the building during a recent visit.
The Record Co. also operates a recording studio space on Massachusetts Avenue near South Bay Mall.
In 2022, when a longtime artist complex called the Sound Factory closed its doors in Allston, The Record Co. was part of a coalition that hunted for alternative space for the hundreds of musicians, producers, and artisans who had been displaced.
“Fifty-five Morrissey is part of a crisis intervention,” said Boyd, who said the Record Co.’s founder— Matt McArthur— joined with the Mayor’s Office of Arts and Culture to find solutions. Leveraged by a generous arrangement from the then-owner of the 55 Morrissey site, the building was retrofitted to accommodate the needs of the artist community.
Liriano is one of the artists who’ve since made the Morrissey Boulevard building his creative home.
“There’s a space where we can apply these ideas and make these songs and paintings a reality,” said Liriano, who joined the tour with Boyd.
At the end of the hall are two rooms occupied by Ugly Duck Studios, a recording studio that operates out of The Record Co., outfitted with a recording booth, soundboards, drums and guitars. Four full-time employees and the studio’s clients fill the room.
The head engineer and producer, who goes by the name “Dephrase,” quips that the Record Co. “saved their livelihoods” when the Sound Museum shuttered.
Boyd and his team offer affordable monthly and annual rental spaces that can be used— depending on the size and how the spaces are outfitted— for a variety of needs, from storage, to practice space, to making studio-quality recordings.
“The whole idea is to reduce as many barriers for creatives as humanly possible,” explains Boyd. “We’re trying to be a cog in the wheel by providing some really unique spaces with high-quality equipment. It’s not like we’ll go to a space that’s cheap, and the equipment is cheap. You come to the space, it’s affordable, and the equipment is top-notch, so you get to have a really good experience.”
At the Mass Ave. location, the studios are equipped with everything artists need to record.
“It all comes with the room. You get the amps, the keys, the drums, mics, you’re all set to go. You can adjust the mood lighting and create your own vibe in here, which is really important,” says Boyd. “We tend to have everything a musician needs, from dongles to earplugs, whatever it is. If we have it, we let the community have access to it.”
You’re not paying this exorbitant amount to rent a studio, so I think we really contribute a lot to the creative economy.”
Dorchester resident Max Ridley, 31, is one of the musicians who frequents the 960 Mass Ave. location. The upright bass player was there recording with a trio of musicians when The Reporter stopped by earlier in May for a visit.
Dorchester’s Max Ridley, who performs on the upright bass player, uses The Record Co.’s Mass Ave recording space frequently. “I would love for more people to stay here and put time, energy, and money into the local music ecosystem,” says the 31-year-old musician.
“In Boston, there’s always kind of two music scenes,” said Ridley, who attended Berklee College of Music. “There are the very entrenched people who have always been here, and then there are the students who come here and then leave for New York, Nashville, or LA. As somebody who went to school and grew up here, I would love for more people to stay here and put time, energy, and money into the local music ecosystem.”
He added: “I feel like [the two scenes] start to bleed into each other here. It’s sort of like one big symbiotic ecosystem.”
The location at 55 Morrissey is more spartan, for the most part. Musicians— including some veteran, touring bands— use the Morrissey building as a home base to store amps, instruments, and other gear, as well as to rehearse for shows. But there aren’t just bands setting up shop at 55 Morrissey. It has become a hub for an assortment of creative people from photographers and podcasters (the new DotLife podcast is recorded there weekly) to painters and graphic designers.
“I want people to understand how much of this is mental health,” says Boyd. “Coming here and having this as an outlet is a mental health resource. When folks are coming here, this is really therapy.”
Bobby Boyd, a Dorchester resident with deep roots in Boston’s music community, is shown behind the controls in one of The Record Co.’s recording studios at their Massachusetts Avenue location near South Bay Mall. Seth Daniel photos
But even as new artists have rented space and a community has formed on Morrissey Boulevard, the threat of displacement still looms.
“There’s no profit margin here for us. It’s just truly providing a resource for the artist,” said Boyd.
Through a deal with the current landlord— POB Capital— the Record Co. has recently been granted a lease extension through 2027. That’s a relief for artists like Liriano, who say that the constant threat of losing space for artists like him and his fellow Record Co. devotees undermines the larger creative economy in Boston.
But it’s not a long-term fix for the Record Co., as 55 Morrissey is slated for redevelopment, part of a larger plan for the whole stretch of Morrissey between JFK-UMass station and the former Boston Globe headquarters building, now called Southline Boston.
Securing space is an existential worry that Boyd says needs a permanent solution.
“Every time artists are displaced, they’re losing market share so much that you could potentially lose your business,” said Boyd. “It’s similar to your favorite coffee shop moving locations. Eventually, it gets harder to support them. Even if it’s not necessarily their fault, multiple displacements cause business owners to question their path and whether it’s worth the investment.”
Boyd notes that the average artist makes less than $50,000 and as a group they are being priced out every day.
“But also, artist spaces are disappearing,” he says. “There’s no place for convening or testing out your band. So, a lot of our artists are leaving the city. That’s the travesty for me: seeing folks not able to live out their dreams.”
The Record Co. gives musicians, producers, painters, and fashion designers the room they need to thrive and connect with one another.
“I think what happens is people start bumping into people,” says Boyd. “You meet a saxophone player, you meet a drummer, you meet some really cool people. You meet some famous people, you meet some not famous people, and then you just start having conversations about what you’re doing, when you’re next gig.”
Liriano is one of the fixtures in the building. If he’s not writing and recording new tunes, or painting on a fresh canvas, he’s likely rehearsing for his next gig— like this weekend’s DorchFest party. (His band— the Ray Liriano Experience is performing at 1 p.m. at 30 Beaumont Street.)
As Liriano paints, the distinct wail of bagpipes can be heard winding down the hallway. The pipes, he says, are played by an older gentleman from Dorchester who rents a room at the Record Co because, Boyd says, “his wife doesn’t want him practicing loudly at home.”
There’s a whole contingent of Record Co. tenants who are locals from Dorchester and surrounding neighborhoods. Boyd estimates that only about 35 percent of the artists displaced from the Sound Museum made the move from Allston. The rest filled up with locals, he says. One drummer told Boyd he could walk to practice now.
“I’m happy to learn that we’re serving the Dorchester community as well because now that points to a new issue or an issue that we didn’t even think existed,” said Boyd. “I feel like the Record Co. is very much [like] a speakeasy. It’s not something that everyone knows. But if you know you know.”
Filling that need gives Boyd and his allies even more motivation to secure the space they have— or something quite like it nearby.
“The state will say, ‘Hey, we care about the arts and the arts community.’ If you care about the arts in the city, wouldn’t you dedicate a space to it? Why can’t we carve out a space for the artist community and make it permanent? If you want some color, if you want some beauty, you’re gonna have to let the arts exist in the city.”
