Don Fleming Interview Remastering The Velvet Monkeys
Every musician wants their music to be heard by as many people as possible, even record producers who’ve worked with Joan Jett, Andrew W.K., Sonic Youth, Hole, the Posies, and more. Producer Don Fleming, who has produced albums for these big names and many others, is now using his equipment and expertise to bring his early music back to the shelves and, for the first time, to the digital world.
Starting his musical career in Williamsburg, Virginia, Fleming ended up moving to Washington D.C. to form the Velvet Monkeys from the ashes of his new wave band, Citizen 23. Armed with a Dr. Rhythm drum machine and a sense of humor, the threesome (and soon thereafter, a foursome) stormed the scene with a dark art punk sound and a certain playfulness that won the hearts of many.
Their first release, Everything is Right was a completely DIY effort. Only out on cassette and not sold in stores. Not many people have had the chance to hear this music compared to their later albums. Until now.
On June 7th, a remastered version of Everything is Right will be available from Fleming’s own Instant Mayhem Records. It will include all the original tracks plus three never-before-heard live tracks from Don’s personal collection.
Guitar International recently sat down with Don Fleming to talk about the Velvet Monkeys, remastering Everything is Right and Andrew W. K.
Velvet Monkeys
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Brady Lavin: Can you start out by talking about how exactly the reissue of Everything is Right came to be?
Don Fleming: Well for some time I’ve wanted to really go back and transfer all the old master tapes that I have, and get new restored copies of them. So I started with that.
And I started doing it, you know, I figured that it’d probably make sense to get some of that stuff out there again. I had a label called Instant Mayhem on and off throughout the years. So I just figured I’d revive that and start re-releasing some of the stuff that I have, as well as putting out the new stuff that I’m doing. So that’s really what the idea was like.
I did a deal with Iota, one of the indie distributers. They’ll get it up in iTunes and eMusic and stuff like that. And then for the different releases that I’m doing I’m gonna try to partner with different labels that want to do vinyl or CDs, or even cassette, maybe.
We were talking about doing a cassette of this first one because it was originally a cassette release. There’s a label called Thick Syrup who’s gonna put out the CD version of this Velvet Monkeys release. And I thought I’d start with the first one we did, since that was the first release and I’ll just bring it up to date from there.
Brady: What was it like to revisit your old material from back in your twenties?
Don Fleming: It was more fun than I expected. I kinda had a sense of dread, like “Oooh, I gotta listen through all this.” I have like dozens and dozens of cassette tapes, and many, many reel-to-reels. I went back and started with the earlier stuff, and it was interesting, especially the progression of how we changed. Mainly the physical members of the band, but we also went from this weird sound with a drum machine in the beginning to a drummer.
He’s an insanely good drummer who’s the farthest thing from a drum machine you can imagine. And we tried to meld the two. We forced Jay for a while to use the drum machine and use this snare drum we had. It was cool because it did make for a different kind of sound. I’ve realized that ultimately, Jay won. He won that battle. [Laughs] He did, he kept it alive for the real drummers.
Brady: For our readers unfamiliar with the process, what exactly do you do when you remaster an album?
Don Fleming: Well, in this kind of thing, we were looking at very, very old tape. One of the reasons I wanted to do it and was into doing it myself is that for the last ten years, most of my work has been doing restoration. I work at the Allan Lomax Archives, where his collection was transferred. And they were all reel-to-reel.
I’ve done these projects for Hunter Thompson’s estate and Ken Kesey’s collection, transferring reel-to-reel or cassettes that are twenty or thirty years old. So I have a good set-up for doing it. Basically, the key thing is to have a great analog-to-digital converter, so you really just get the best digital reproduction that you can off it. ‘Cause that, to me, is where it fails.
I’m an analog person. I love analog. I did most of my production work on analog tape. I basically stopped doing it when ProTools first came around. I found it annoying. [Laughs] And I found the sound annoying. I think it’s much improved since then, but I didn’t want to work with it at all at first. The converters sucked, and it just sounded shitty to me.
But, you know, I now use it all the time, because the convenience and the trickery that we used to have to take hours to pull off in the studio you can certainly do quicker. But basically, I have a variety of old analog machines, and I figure out which one’s best for each collection that I’m dealing with.
For mine, I re-bought a machine that I had recorded a lot of the stuff on, and I wanted to use the same tape format and head format. It just makes sense to use the same tape machine. So I start there, and I just dump it in, no kind of processing of any kind, just the raw track. If it sounds good or it sounds bad, you just dump it in and get the highest res files you can get.
From there, there’s certainly work to be done. Sometimes tapes lose some high end over the years. And sometimes there’s flutter. It’s forensics, a little bit. Once you have the raw data, you figure out what it needs. Is it a lot or a little? Approach it with the right tools for that. I just use a bunch of different stuff. In most cases it helps a lot, for me, to be able to do the transfer and do the remastering all in-house, and not need a label. I’m sort of back to where I started with this back when I first released this particular cassette in 1981. It was total do-it-yourself. We were the label, we were the producers. It was our band.
I wish we’d had the digital, worldwide resources that we have now. That’s what I think is cool about CD Baby and Tunecore, and those kind of things where the artist is better off just doing it themselves. I’m all for this revolution. It’s me joining the digital revolution. [Laughs]
Don Fleming Velvet Monkeys 1981
Brady: Your guitar tone on the newly remastered Everything is Right is awesomely jagged, especially on “Velvet Monkeys Theme Song.” Do you remember what gear you used to pump that out?
Don Fleming: Oh yeah, yeah, I have most of that still. Back my set-up was a Fender Jaguar, which was I guess maybe a ’67. I can’t remember. I’m not great with the years of my guitars. But it was a really sweet one.
I go through a Vox fuzz into a Vox amp, so it was a very Vox-heavy sound. Some of the songs I played in a 5-string tuning, and I had a Silvertone that I used on that. It was a Sears Silvertone, the one that came in the case with the amp inside. It was definitely jagged, the Silvertone had a jagged sound. But you know, it was the fuzz. As they said, “It’s what’s happenin’!” It had that sound.
And we had that Ace Tone organ. The two of those together worked really well to me. It was a good blend.
Brady: How did you choose the live tracks to add to the reissue of Everything is Right?
Don Fleming: One of ‘em was a song we were doing at the time that didn’t make it onto the original track list for the first release. That was “Evelyn Marble.”
“Drive In” was just a really different version. This is getting back to when we used to force Jay to try to do more of the drum machine stuff. It had this sort of drum machine breakdown in the middle of it, which we thought was a good idea at the time. [Laughs] But it didn’t end up in the song. It was one of the only sort of historical versions of us doing it that way, so I thought it would be good to throw in.
I know there was already a studio version of “Favorite Day” on there, but that was, out of all those songs, the one live version I thought it would be cool to throw on.
All three of those songs came from the same show, too. I thought that was good to do. It was a New Year’s Eve show we had done in 1981, and it was not long after Jay joined the band. The first half of ’81 we had the drum machine or this other drummer, and then Jay came along. I heard the early part of the year with the drum machine stuff in the tapes, and it was cool but once he joined the energy level completely changed. It gave me a new appreciation.
I’m a big drum guy. I always look at the drummer. A great drummer makes a great band really, really, really good, but a weak drummer can make a great band just average, you know? Anyone else in the band, you can be a little sloppy here and there, but with the drummer it’s a whole other thing for me.
So I went back and heard stuff I hadn’t listened to since then, probably, and realized, “Wow! That’s when we got good. When Jay got in the band.”
Brady: What kind of approach do you take to producing material you wrote as opposed to the other artists you have produced?
Don Fleming: What I do with most people I produce is more thought-through, I think. I rarely will do anything when I’m recording myself where I’ll do more than one take. I’m kinda of a first take kind of guy. I like it to be more fucked-up when I’m doing it myself. With certain other people I will do that, but with my own stuff, I don’t want it to be smoothed out at all. Whereas I like it more smoothed out when I’m working with other people. And generally, they like it more smoothed out. They don’t want to do what I do. [Laughs]
Brady: The name “Velvet Monkeys” comes from a combination of the Velvet Underground and the Monkeys I have read, at least. Why did you choose those two bands to combine to form your band name?
Don Fleming: [Laughs] Yeah, I probably said that at some point. I thought of us as a mix of something heavy and darker, like the Velvet Underground, but then at the same time with a sense of humor. I’m a big Spinal Tap guy. I like the Monkeys. Part of the reason I like ‘em is cause they’re actually real bands that play music as well as being characters. To me Tap’s the ultimate KISS type of band, or something.
So I’m fans of both of those bands from sort of different ends of the spectrum, and thought of us as their baby. The baby of those two bands.
Brady: Since you have produced Andrew W.K. on Close Calls With Brick Walls, can you put to rest any of the rumors that he is a corporate construction and that someone else really writes his music?
Don Fleming: [Laughs] The whole story line, I think, is something he’s laughing at. And certainly we made our record there was no label. He had a guy from Sony in Japan who wanted to do the record, but he never showed up. He wasn’t a presence on the record.
Andrew is of his own construction. [Laughs] You know, I would put Andrew more into the Monkeys side ’cause of that kind of imagery. I’m sure there’s always some kind of truth somewhere behind something, but that’s my experience with Andrew. He’s a self-made man.
Thick Syrup Records: Press
“My friend Jad Fair,” begins perhaps the best-loved Legend! and Deadnotes song, ” once told me that there are only two types of songs.”
Love songs and monster songs.
I interviewed Jad Fair recently on the telephone, as I was writing sleeve-notes to a forthcoming three-CD ‘Best Of’ compilation on Fire Records, entitled Beautiful Songs. He apologised for drawing songs from only 48 of his albums – “I’ve released a good deal more than that, but what with this being a three-CD set, I’ve had to cut it down a bit” – and also indicated that he thought that his brother David (who he formed Half-Japanese with, over 30 years ago) might originally have said that line about there only being two types of songs, but he couldn’t quite recall. “My memory is not what it should be, but it is what it is,” he told me. After I sent him off the final copy, he took out all the hyphens in Half-Japanese, so I guess I’ve been spelling it wrong all these years. Anyways.
Some fellow from America emailed me about a month back to ask if I’d like him to send me some of David Fair’s recent musical recordings, as his label Thick Syrup was in the process of releasing them. Would I! I’m actually not too familiar with David’s own music, aside from that which he makes with his brother, and in Half-Japanese, so it’s quite a thrill to be sent a variety of albums via Facebook. (Ah, the joy of immediate communication!)
There’s Nine Lives Pussy – Our Blues Parade: Let’s Go! – which is David Fair fronting his own band made up of entirely David Fair, and that record is plenty scary blues.
There’s CooCooPartyTime – Seven Ways To Sunday – a crazy-ass four-CD box set featuring David Fair fronting Half-Japanese while Jad is away doing his own thing, with some extra guest stars and stuff, that Travis (that’s the dude from Thick Syrup) is having immense difficulty convincing iTunes to sell at for more than the price of a single album. I’m not sure he’s sent me that one yet, there’s so much to sift through.
There’s I’ll Be Moe, which is David Fair solo over a two-CD set. I have that one but haven’t gotten round to listening to it yet, so I’ll quote direct from the website cos it sounds plenty exciting…
David Fair has written and recorded two dozen stories detailing events, large and small, which occurred during his childhood in Coldwater, Michigan. Backed by original music and a large assortment of carefully placed sound effects, this collection is, at once, highly informative and wildly entertaining. All stories fall somewhere in the range of 80 to 100 percent true. The subjects covered include; The Three Stooges, a hissing bat, amateur smuggling, a menacing shop owner, scheming customers, buried treasure, clever spies, carnival fraud, marble trickery, Halloween tragedy, matchstick rockets, circus hotdogs, naked mannequins, social status, daring stunts, dangerous pranks and foolish activities with dramatic results.
There’s David Fair‘s The Middleman soundtrack, which is so new the songs don’t even appear to have titles.
And there’s the totally awesome, spooky and grounded Halloween tribute record made by David and Jad Fair, Halloween Songs, which absolutely falls in the category I first started writing this post about, except I think that the brothers haven’t bothered themselves too much with the love songs on this album, but that’s OK because they cover that topic plenty elsewhere. This is the one I’m going to send you in the direction of today – you can hear the wickedly-named ‘Full Sized Candy Bars’ on the Thick Syrup MySpace page. It reminds me of Danielle Dax‘s mid-80s stuff a little. But be warned! If you’re more familiar with Jad’s sweet and trembling, sometimes strained, voice you’re in for a real surprise. David does not sing like Jad on this album, not at all. I doubt if even Jad does. This is children’s music, as envisaged by… well, just go and have a listen for yourself.
You can also hear more samples and purchase it here.
Oh, and a little postscript to all this. Rather cheekily I asked Travis whether he might be interested in releasing a little something by The Deadnotes and The Legend!, knowing the fondness that the members of The Deadnotes have for the Fair brothers’ recordings. Sure, came back the reply. I mentioned this to The Deadnotes and Eugene retorted, “the five-CD box set or nothing”. So….
Watch this space!
Oh, and here’s the debut single from Half-Japanese from back in 1977. I can’t recall if was released before or after the debut triple-vinyl album.
Oh, and here’s David on how to play a guitar, taken from the Half-Japanese website.
I taught myself to play guitar. It’s incredibly easy when you understand the science of it. The skinny strings play the high sounds, and the fat strings play the low sounds. If you put your finger on the string farther out by the tuning end it makes a lower sound. If you want to play fast, move your hand fast and if you want to play slower move your hand slower. That’s all there is to it. You can learn the names of notes and how to make chords that other people use, but that’s pretty limiting. Even if you took a few years and learned all the chords you’d still have a limited number of options. If you ignore the chords your options are infinite and you can master guitar playing in one day.
Traditionally, guitars have a fat string on the top and they get skinnier and skinnier as they go down. But the thing to remember is it’s your guitar and you can put whatever you want on it. I like to put six different sized strings on it because that gives the most variety, but my brother used to put all of the same thickness on so he wouldn’t have so much to worry about. What ever string he hit had to be the right one because they were all the same.
Tuning the guitar is kind of a ridiculous notion. If you have to wind the tuning pegs to just a certain place, that implies that every other place would be wrong. But that’s absurd. How could it be wrong? It’s your guitar and you’re the one playing it. It’s completely up to you to decide how it should sound. In fact I don’t tune by the sound at all. I wind the strings until they’re all about the same tightness. I highly recommend electric guitars for a couple of reasons. First of all they don’t depend on body resonating for the sound so it doesn’t matter if you paint them. As also, if you put all the knobs on your amplifier on 10 you can get a much higher reaction to effort ratio with an electric guitar than you can with an acoustic. Just a tiny tap on the strings can rattle your windows, and when you slam the strings, with your amp on 10, you can strip the paint off the walls.
The first guitar I bought was a Silvertone. Later I bought a Fender Telecaster, but it really doesn’t matter what kind you buy as long as the tuning pegs are on the end of the neck where they belong. A few years back someone came out with a guitar that tunes at the other end. I’ve never tried one. I guess they sound alright but they look ridiculous and I imagine you’d feel pretty foolish holding one. That would affect your playing. The idea isn’t to feel foolish. The idea is to put a pick in one hand and a guitar in the other and with a tiny movement rule the world.
Local developers try to jump in on iPhone app bandwagon.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Tim Vinsant sold the idea for an iPhone app called Pocket Reference.
LITTLE ROCK — Want to become an overnight sensation and make enough money to retire in only a couple months? As the iPhone slogan goes, there’s an app for that.
The trick is that you have to create the app yourself. Just like Steve Demeter, whose addictive game Trism became the first superstar app after he announced that it made him around $250,000 in only a couple months. Or Bart Decrem, CEO of Tapulous, whose music-centric Tap Tap Revenge topped a million downloads in only two weeks, thrusting the company into the world spotlight.
With a goldmine like that out there, locals are trying their hand at coming up with the next iShoot or iBeer, and local companies, whether creating an app for themselves in house or not, are recognizing the exposure a well-thought-out app can bring.
“About a year or so ago, there were three to four people hitting it big, getting a lot of attention from everyone. It made it seem like there was this bag of money just sitting there to be had,” said Sean LeCrone, who decided to try and develop apps with his co-workers in North Little Rock. With his background in programming and people on board for art and music, “it wasn’t a stretch for us to decide to do it.”
Their decision was to make a game both simple and addictive. The result — about three months in the making — was iFloat, which challenges players to tilt their phone back and forth to move a floating ball up and down in a column of air. Staying inside a moving green zone earns points; letting the ball go too high or too low ends the game.
Unfortunately, said J.T. Naylor, the artist on the project, the app was buried several pages deep on the iTunes store as soon as it was launched, and thus missed its opportunity to be spotlighted as a new release. Attempts to get the app reviewed either got no response or ended up with the so-called reviewers trying to sell them advertising.
The result? More than a hundred downloads at a dollar apiece, but certainly not enough to cover development costs, which included buying a Mac.
However, making apps doesn’t necessarily require a monetary investment, if you’re willing to lose a little cash on the other end.
At least, that’s how Tim Vinsant sees it. An electronics associate at Wal-Mart in west Little Rock, Vinsant is the man behind a recently released app called Pocket Reference. A self-described “answers guy,” he said the idea was to be able to answer all manner of questions with only a few taps on the screen. Thus, Pocket Reference contains links to more than 500 reference sites, from the CIA World Factbook to Tunezee, in more than 50 different categories.
“With two, three, four taps you can be anywhere,” said Vinsant, who did not program the app himself, but submitted the idea to Medl Mobile, an incubator company that accepts mobile app ideas and turns the ones it likes into the real thing in exchange for a share of the profits.
Of those, Vinsant could not say much earlier this month. Though out since early January, he said he had no earnings reports yet or specific numbers of downloads. However, immediately after a review in Macworld, the app jumped up to be among the top five reference apps on iTunes. Even a week later, it was still in the top 25. So it’s getting noticed — and that’s the hard thing, he said.
“Until you start getting good reviews from the good review sites, it’s hard to get out there,” he said.
That is, unless your app is free and just “getting out there” is the goal. But in that case you don’t stand to make much money.
That’s the case for Travis McElroy, founder of Little Rock’s Thick Syrup Records, who hired out a company some of his bands had worked with to make an app for the label. Being free, it gets anywhere from 30 to 60 downloads on an average day, said McElroy.
“I’ve been really happy with what it’s done,” he said. “The response has been bigger than I ever imagined.”
Plugging in to videos, music and show dates of bands on the Thick Syrup label, the app is really all about promotion, said McElroy. With it, Thick Syrup can and has spread all over the world — and that’s pretty cool, he said. And while maybe it doesn’t earn money directly, he has had people tell him they bought an album after listening to a song through the app.
Besides, he said, “it’s really cool just to have one.”
On that, the profit-driven developers agree, albeit with a certain graveyard humor.
“Even if we don’t do anything else, at least we can say we have an app,” said Naylor.
“Yeah, and so can a hundred thousand other people,” added LeCrone.
I (heart) you, in tattoo: Bro-love inking sweeps through the Little Rock music scene
Travis McElroy and Andy Warr.
A few weeks back, Travis McElroy, the 36-year-old owner and operator of Thick Syrup Records, lay flat on a fully-reclined black leather chair, his snap button shirt halfway open. “Me and Andy’s got a bromance,” he said, letting loose a full body laugh. Which broke a central rule for sitting for a tattoo, according to Brooke Cook, of Anchor Tattoo and Piercing in Benton, who had to stop work on a large tattoo on McElroy’s chest of Andy Warr, of local band Brother Andy & His Big Damn Mouth, to chastise: “Talk all you want, but no giggling!”
McElroy’s tattoo of Warr shows the musician in profile, the best angle to capture his flowing Moses-style beard. Laurels grow out of a circular border that frames the face, while the words “In Warr We Trust” float above. It’s McElroy’s fourth tattoo of a local musician, and the largest. Warr’s face takes up a large part of McElroy’s chest (“He’s a big dude,” McElroy offers). When I wonder how many tattoos he has all together, he asks “What’s one tattoo? They all run together.”
McElroy lives for rock ’n’ roll. He works as a computer tech to pay his bills and insurance. Everything else, he says, goes into Thick Syrup. In just a few years, he’s grown the label from releases of local acts exclusively to material from Baltimore-based cult heroes David and Jad Fair. In the coming months, he hopes to release a compilation that’ll feature contributions from members of Pearl Jam and Teenage Fanclub.
The See's logo on McElroy.
But his tattoos aren’t merely an extension of Thick Syrup. Yes, he will co-release Brother Andy & His Big Damn Mouth’s debut. And, yes, he’s planning on re-releasing “Bars of Gold,” the debut EP from The See, whose eye-logo he has tattooed on his hand. But he has no business affiliation with American Princes’ Matt Quin and David Slade, who’re represented, as a zombie and in a heart, respectively, on his arm. They’re just buds. In fact, the local musician tattoo trend, which predates McElroy, but continues largely because of him, seems to be rooted on just that — good old-fashioned heterosexual bro-love.
The love started to spread several years back (no one we interviewed for this story was very good with dates) with “BURF.” That’s what ended up on Quin’s arm on $20 name tattoo day at the Parlor instead of the intended “BURT TAGGART,” an tribute to Max Recordings’ chief, who was instrumental in the Princes’ rise. (David Slade got one too, but it was spelled correctly.) After the tattoo artist mistakenly inked “BURR” and tried to correct it with a Gaelic “T,” Quin had to live with “BURF TAGGART” for a time. He’s since had it fixed. With arrows and a bass and treble clef around the name.
Taggart, Slade remembers, was not initially thrilled. “He could not have looked any more horrified. He didn’t say anything, but there was this look of total fear in his eyes.”
“It just freaked me out,” Taggart says today. He never thought he’d see his name on another guy’s arm. For a time, he says he thought seriously about reciprocating, but after several years passed and McElroy got his tattoos of Quin and Slade and both reciprocated, he says he figured the pressure was off.
Matt Quin.
Quin and Slade’s tattoos of McElroy heated things up. Both got variations on one of Thick Syrup’s logos — a representation of McElroy (who’s long cultivated a Rick Rubin-esque look) that’s a bushy beard and long hair, without a face. Quin placed the logo inside arrows shaped in a heart (all of his tattoos involve arrows). And Slade get the word “OBEY” written under his logo, a reference to Shepherd Fairey’s famed “OBEY” Andre the Giant graffiti.
David Slade.
Then the floodgates opened. Tyler Nance, hirsute drummer for The See, got a plain McElroy logo. After it was often confused as a tattoo of himself, he added an eye patch. Joe Yoder, also of The See, got the logo with red sunglasses. Frown Pow’r’s Marshall Dunn got it in red, with lightning bolts underneath. “Dirty” Sean Causey, of The Weisenheimers, stuck a halo on top of his and Chinese characters below. Last Thursday, Eric Morris, of The See and Magic Hassle, claimed that he was getting the McElroy tattoo as a “tramp stamp,” on the small of his back, later this week.
All those tattooed who I talked to offered an explanation much like Matt Quin’s:
“When your brother dies, you get his name tattooed, RIP and that stuff. The way we’re doing it celebrates your friends while they’re alive. Like, ‘I love the shit out of you. I love you so much I’m going to get your name or face tattooed on my body.’ ”
ALSO: Josh Henderson at Primal Urge in Conway did several of the ones below.
Tyler Nance.
Dirty Sean.
Marshall Dunn.
Joe Yoder.
Thick Syrup label branching out, trying to spread the opportunities around.
Travis McElroy is the founder of Little Rock based Thick Syrup Records.Tuesday, January 12, 2010
LITTLE ROCK — It’s the Little Rock independent record label named after a $20 or so dare and a near-deadly alcoholic concoction containing syrup of ipecac as its main ingredient: Thick Syrup Records, the brainchild of 36-year-old Travis McElroy.
Almost two decades since Thick Syrup partner Brian Lovell kept down the potent brew, winning the $20, and since releasing Browningham’s Gotta Get It Outta Here in 2006 as its first album, the label has released a series of albums by such nationals acts as David and Jad Fair of Half Japanese fame, and local outfits Smoke Up Johnny, Bryan Frazier and, most recently, Frown Pow’r and Androids of Ex Lovers, along with the Arkansas Compilation, a 24-track collection of artists such as American Princes, Ho-Hum and The Good Fear that serves as a rock-flavored time capsule of the Arkansas music scene in the mid-2000s.
"I was going to White Water and seeing all these bands, and so many good bands that had never been recorded," said McElroy of the genesis of the compilation that received its first tune "Angelina" by Pants as courtesy of Max Recordings, a Little Rock record label run by Burt Taggart, a friend of McElroy’s. "I started asking people if they’d like to be on a compilation. ... Some of the bands — like the Crisco Kids — I don’t think had ever been in a studio. But I thought it came out really good."
Growing up in Little Rock in the late ’80s and early ’90s, McElroy was immersed in the city’s underground music scene, working at North Little Rock’s famous Arkansas Record & CD Exchange and being introduced to many of the city’s musicians. But his musical plunge began earlier.
"I guess I was in seventh grade, listening to groups such as Misfits and Butthole Surfers, taking chances purchasing cassettes at Hastings," said McElroy of his introduction to music. "A lot of the time I bought really bad music. I was skipping school and using my lunch money to go buy cassettes, and my mom found the receipts for some of the cassettes and told me I could eat the cassettes when I got hungry.
"All I ever cared about was music, collecting these cassettes and CDs. I’d go to shows in Little Rock a lot and see all these amazing bands. I struggled in school, but I knew everything about music."
Following high school, McElroy attempted to play music in a couple of local bands, but soon realized even the three-chord roar of punk rock was beyond his musical aptitude.
"I tried to play," he said. "I was a really big fan of the Melvins, and I still am a big Melvins fan, but I just wasn’t good enough to play. A lot of punk is really not that good, but I wasn’t even that good."
McElroy performed promotional duties for record labels in the late ’80s and ’90s, including working with Mother Love Bone’s Andrew Wood shortly before the lead singer’s death and with Pearl Jam before the release of Ten, but it wasn’t until 2006 he decided to launch Thick Syrup.
"I though to myself: ‘I can do a small indie label’," McElroy said. "I wanted to do something that I enjoyed doing. I do computer tech work on the side and that pays the bills, but it’s kind of boring. It’s gotten a lot bigger than what I thought it would be."
So big that beyond releasing albums by local acts, Thick Syrup has branched out into organizing local shows, and Lovell, the man who drank the syrup, produces podcasts available on the Thick Syrups Web site, including podcasts with notables such as Chad Price of Drag the River, Kevin Kerby and Nichols. The label also has an Apple iPhone app where live video is available, including videos of performances at December’s Luke Hunsicker benefit at Revolution Music Room organized by Thick Syrup.
But the focus is still on releasing new music, and 2010 will include more work by David and Jad Fair, including a collection of Christmas songs coming out around Halloween and a rerecorded rerelease of David Fair & Coo Coo Rockin Time, along with a compilation of indie bands that have influenced McElroy and Lovell, including artists such as Lou Barlow, a member of Dinosaur Jr. and Sebadoh, and others such as Ben Lee, Penn Jillette (a fan of Half Japanese), and Pearl Jam and Soundgarden drummer Matt Cameron’s side project Hater.
The label is also preparing two new Arkansas Compilation discs, featuring artists such as The Salty Dogs, Midwest Caravan, The Big Cats and Magic Hassle, to be released separately about four months apart with the first due in March or April.
"We got about 35 to 40 songs, and I think I can get about 50 on the two discs," McElroy said. "Dan [Johnson] is doing the sequencing again, and he’s going through it all. He’s got a really good ear.
"A lot of the people we missed the first time around we are trying to get on the second. We’re trying to get a lot of these bands into the studio to record, but there’ll be old stuff as well."
The Weisenheimers punk debut is a rollicking, rambunctious ride.
LITTLE ROCK — With the air-raid guitars and rolling drums of opener “Converse,” the bomb bay doors are open on Little Rock punk outfit The Weisenheimers’ debut, self-titled album. What follows is 29 minutes of bombastic, fun-loving, pummeling three-chord music with a hook and sing-along choruses.
Like any good punk album, it’s a quickie affair: a wham bam, in-and-out joyous collection of 11 tunes in under 30 minutes. It’s a rip-roaring good time of rambunctiously fun punk music but with an intermittent angry undertone.
Influenced by pop-punk bands such as the Ramones, Teenage Bottlerocket and Screeching Weasel, The Weisenheimers were formed in the spring of 2007. Lead singer, bassist and chief songwriter Karle Johnson, and drummer and singer Dirty Sean Causey were both members of Josh the Devil and the Sinners. Guitarist Mark Wyers joined the band following a stint in Josh the Devil and the Sinners, and his older brother Micah Wyers joined on guitar in the spring of 2008 following the departure of the band’s original second guitarist.
Band formed, the quartet sharpened their razor-sharp riffs with shows around town and polished off their 11-song debut over the course of several months at Wolfman Recording Studios in Little Rock. The finished product — recorded, engineered, produced, mixed and mastered by Jason Tedford — is tight and clean.
When Johnson sings on “Converse” — “It’s time to get up and get into trouble/It’s time ... to turn this town into rumble” — it’s not an empty threat. The Weisenheimers mean serious unruliness but with a catchy beat and a smirk. It’s a drive-by shooting of an album — a few quick punk outbursts — that follows the punk-rock ethos: Say what you need in around two and a half minutes or don’t say it at all, and give it a punchy beat, an infectious, energetic riff and sticky, memorable lyrics.
Good: What sets The Weisenheimers apart from other three-chord and a hook pop-punk bands is an angrier undercurrent in the lyrics and the twin turbines of the Wyers brothers’ guitar attack.
When Johnson states, “And one by one your dreams are falling/And one by one they crash,” on the venomous “Don’t Say,” or Causey howls “Do I really have to say/I just wanna run away” on the ultra-catchy yet sinister “Bubblegum,” it’s not all love and happiness. Sure, the sweetheart sentiments of “May” — with its rumbling drums and thundering guitars — contains lovestruck lyrics such as “I’m sorry I don’t put any thought in what I say/But if stay with me I’ll make it worth your while/I’d do anything if I could see you smile,” but the ferocious, roaring “Bloodbath and Bodyworks” contains the lines “Take your final breath, and/Take your final bow/There’s nowhere that you could run or hide/I’m gonna hunt you down” and references Charlie Manson. It’s toxic but tuneful.
And hidden in the two- or three-minute shotgun blasts of pure punk exhilaration on the album are lightning-quick guitar runs, exhibiting serious chops. In between the stabbing guitars of “Converse” and the dive-bombing roar of “When I Explode,” the Wyers pull off screaming guitar licks and zippy four-bar solos.
Bad: In the quickie blur of even a good punk rock album, not all tunes are winners, and The Weisenheimers’ debut is no different. While the standout tracks — “Converse,” “May” and “Bubblegum” — shine brightly, other tracks such as “Don’t Say” and “Combover,” are too quick and overdeveloped for their two-minute run time. Both tunes kick off with a guttural bass line by Johnson, but the band attempts to cram in a memorable, shout-along chorus and fiery guitar solos in two minutes time. Even with punk rock it’s a good idea to slow down every so once and awhile.
Must have: “Converse,” “Wooly Mammoth,” “May,” “Believe,” “Bubblegum,” “Don’t Wanna Hang,” “Bloodbath & Bodyworks”
Ratings (out of five): 4
(Photo by Arshia Khan.)
Local label Thick Syrup's jumped into the podcasting fray. David Fair, of Half Japanese, did the theme music. Which is pretty awesome. New-ish local rockers Frown Pow'r, who're currently in the studio recording their debut for Thick Syrup, get interviewed. There's a lot of talk about Warsteiner, some band name origin talk and some Will Oldham worship. Plus, a couple lo-fi demoes.
Arkansas Times
by Lindsey Millar
Karle Johnson’s back is turned for only a handful of minutes when he is unceremoniously fired from Little Rock’s The Weisenheimers.
With Johnson absent, guitarist Mark Wyers announces to myself and the other surprised band members that they will scrap their pop punk sound for a harder-edge, free-flowing industrial dance jazz sound. As part of the transition, Johnson, the band’s lead singer, bassist and chief songwriter, has to be let go.
Wyers is only joking, one of several inter-band related jests and nothing-personal cracks among the quartet, which includes Mark’s older brother Micah Wyers on guitar and Sean Causey on drums and vocals.
The Weisenheimers have gathered at a Heights Starbucks on a Monday night to discuss the band’s formation, its infectious punk anthems, band influences and the upcoming release of their debut album. But the talk also spills over into what summer blockbuster movie is more anticipated [The Dark Knight vs. the new Indiana Jones], the best way to destroy a broken-thumb G.I. Joe action figure [M-80] and the improved consistency of baseball card gum.
After a string of wisecracks about historical figures and a certain band member’s need for Kleenexes, the question arises: Are you guys always this much fun?
“We literally have this much fun all the time,” Mark Wyers said.
“We like to abuse each other,” Causey said. “It’s jovial mischief.”
Almost a year into their history, The Weisenheimers should be having fun. In fact, the whole intent of punk music is its freedom and fun, according to Johnson.
“[Punk music] is about the sound and having fun,” he said. “It’s about playing because it is fun. It’s about doing what you want to do and not what you’re told to do. It’s fun. It’s catchy. I listen to punk rock when I am in a bad mood to make me feel better.”
The Weisenheimers’ punk mirrors the infectious, punchy pop punk sound of the Ramones, with raging guitar riffs on tunes such as “Converse” being lightened by the group’s vocal harmonies.
“Johnny Ramone is what got me to playing,” Johnson said. “I remember having an acoustic guitar and learning to play ... I think it was ‘Teenage Lobotomy.’ Other than that [my influences are] just a lot of punk rock music.”
The Weisenheimers were created after the departure of Johnson and Causey from Josh the Devil and the Sinners, with Causey being the original Sinner. Mark Wyers joined the band in the fall following a stint in Josh the Devil and the Sinners as well.
“We actually stole Mark away from Josh the Devil and the Sinners,” Causey said. “They asked me to play a Halloween show, and I used it as cover to steal away Mark.”
After the band’s other guitarist departed in March, Micah Wyers joined the band. And three gigs into his Weisenheimers career, Micah is seemingly at ease — with both the music (“He knows the songs better than we do,” Mark Wyers said.) and with the band’s incessant verbal assaults.
As evidence, Micah Wyers’ reply to Mark Wyers stating he is far superior to his brother on guitar is quick and decisive.
“I let him think that,” Micah Wyers said.
The twin guitar assault of the brothers is actually a vital equation in The Weisenheimers’ sound, as the brothers’ wildly diverse influences infuse the quartet’s punk rock rhythms with contrasting musical inspirations: Hee Haw, C. C. DeVille, Ace Frehley, Hank Williams Jr., Slayer and Prince.
“I guess I’m the oldest one in the band,” Micah Wyers said. “I grew up with [Def Leppard’s] Hysteria and Never Mind the Bollocks [Here’s the Sex Pistols]. I just know they had loud guitars.”
Johnson might be the one true punk in the group, as Causey counts Meat Loaf, David Bowie and Creedence Clearwater Revival among his chief influences. But the mention of Meat Loaf brings quizzical looks from other band members, forcing Causey to defend his choice.
“I love Meat Loaf,” he said. “He’s the best singer in the world.”
With the band’s one-year anniversary fast approaching, the band is finishing up its debut album, an 11 (or maybe 12) track collection of energetic, tuneful punk music. While the album was slightly delayed until Micah Wyers joined the band, the recording process has continued at Wolfman Recording Studios in Little Rock under the watchful eye of Jason Tedford.
The plan is to have the album out by the end of June (The Weisenheimers have a verbal agreement with Thick Syrup Records to release the album.), and celebrate the album’s release with a weekend of record-release parties.
But until then The Weisenheimers will continue their mischievous ways, cranking out rambunctious, intoxicatingly fun punk music and cracking wise about each other all the while.
“If you can’t have this much fun in a band then what are you doing in a band?” Causey said.
Thick Syrup Records on Localist Radio
Vacations and other scheduling conflicts kept us down for a minute, but Localist radio is back. We marked our return with a big show featuring Thick Syrup Records head dude Travis McElroy, who previewed tracks on the forthcoming compilation he's putting out that's gonna feature 24 local artists and bands. Anticipate. In the second hour, Nathan Browningham, who records on Thick Syrup and who's just moved to Little Rock, came through to chat it up. He talked touring and uncontrolable doos AND previewed a brand new song, "Award Winning Poetry," which was developed around lyrics written by his wife when she was 13. In between, we convinced a reluctant Dan Johnson to give background info on a song he wrote for his band The Contingencies and were immensely rewarded, and we had a lot of problems with our equipment. We've salvaged the bulk of the show below, but there are a few minor glitches. Listen anyway.
Part 1
1. Jeff Greer- mystery track
2. momentary meltdown with the Crisco Kids
3. An A+ Setup- What Do We Need the King For
4. our equipment only works in fits and starts
5. Fits and Starts- Dancers of Wealth
6. The Contingencies- Despotism by Dynamite
7. The Moving Front- Salvation Game (inadvertent radio edit)
Part 2
1. Les Attaques- Lost Pix (more fluid inadvertent radio edit)
2. W/O- French Kiss
3. Clicking Beetle Bad Omen Band- Beasting
4. The Contingencies- Simone
5. Stacy Mackey- Bowery
6. Bob Dorough- The Crawdad Song
Part 3: The Nathan Browningham radio hour with a special ode-to-the-ass interlude.
1. Nathan Browningham- Award Winning Poetry
2. Elton White- I'm in Love with Your Behind
3. Suga City- Biggie feat. Z
4. Nathan Browningham- Jogging in Place
5. Nathan Browningham- Snugglebug
6. Nathan Browningham- Open Fire
7. Nathan tells a story about crapping his pants
8. Nathan Browningham- Gotta Get It Out of Here
THICK SYRUP PRESENTS 9 p.m., Sticky Fingerz. $4. Theme nights are all the rage these days. The Village has lately gotten acronym happy — M.I.L.F. (music is live Fridays), S.L.A.M. (Saturday live Arkansas metal). Revolution has its regular Zodiac electronic music series and a monthly “New Music Test.” Cheap beer, no cover and local music continue to remain staples at White Water on Tuesday nights. Now, we can add Thick Syrup Mondays to the mix. Starting on the 14th, Thick Syrup Records head honcho Travis McElroy will be booking and hosting local and touring acts. He's kicking off the series with three local favorites. David Slade and Matt Quinn and Burt Taggart represent for the earnest, feverish rock of the American Princes. After taking the latter half of last year off, the fiery post-punk group the Moving Front is back performing new material. Smoke Up Johnny, who released their debut on McElroy's Thick Syrup label, headline with pop-punk songs about late-night kinds of things.
"Okay—who wants to play?"
It's an auspicious beginning for any rock and roll band to have their first practice busted by the cops. It was the fall of 2005, and Smoke Up Johnny had come together in bassist Matt Floyd's back-yard garage in Levy. Apparently the neighbors felt that North Little Rock's finest deserved an invitation, and before the band could get through a six-pack they were asked to relocate to the other side of the river.
Two years and several destroyed practice spaces later, Smoke Up Johnny have released their self-titled debut, on Thick Syrup Records. The band formed, as many bands do, somewhat by accident. Frontman Alan Disaster (no, it's not; you can ask, but he won't say much more than "It's a West Coast thing...I was drunk a lot"), drummer Jon Rice, and then guitarist Andy Conrad (a.k.a. A.C. Danger) had played together in Queen Cobra (along with Ryan "Straw" Britton and the late Steven Calhoun); Disaster and Floyd had been buddies for years but had never played together, despite talking about it many times.
Smoke Up Johnny is the product of a shared compulsive need to play music coupled with the simple fact that the band did not already exist. "If I'm not in a band, I'm thinking about what my next band is going to be," says Disaster. "Sometimes when a band breaks up, it's like 'Wow, on my days off I can just sit around my house.' But then a couple months later, it's like 'Okay—who wants to play?'" Rice seconds that emotion: "I've probably in the last 11 years not been in a band for about a month and a half total." A drunken argument disbanded Queen Cobra, which Disaster describes as a "musical mess," in 2003; in late 2005, the timing was right for Disaster and Floyd to finally combine punk-rock/hard-rock forces. Danger hopped right on board, and Rice followed with a bit of persuading.
It was a rocky start. "For the first six months, everyone called us 'Break-Up Johnny,'" says Floyd. Everything that could possibly go wrong—starting with the police showing up at their first practice—went wrong. They were kicked out of one practice space. They blew the electricity first out of the downstairs, then the upstairs, of another. Amplifiers were fried. Cops were called (again). Practices were canceled because everyone was too drunk to play.
"We've been through fucking hell," says Rice. But they kept at it, and that hell finally culminated about six months ago with the band's decision to oust guitarist A.C. Danger. "Basically, he was missing a lot of practices," explains Disaster, maintaining that they are personally on good terms. Within a few days, they had recruited Corey Bacon, of Real Fighting, who brings to the band not only an extensive collection of Thin Lizzy t-shirts but a smoking (ha) guitar technique that requires no on-stage acrobatics to prove its impressive point. He was their first choice, and was incorporated upon arrival at his first practice. "We told him he was in before we even asked him if he wanted to be in," says Floyd, laughing. It's been onward and upward ever since.
Though Alan admits that the band in its infancy lacked a definitive sound, that sound did eventually develop into what he now describes as straight-up, solid "good time rock and roll." That may seem like too simple a description, but it's accurate. The music is propulsive and catchy, hooky without being cloying, and crafted of familiar chord changes built upon a foot-stomping, head-shaking, air-drumming foundation.
"Good time" is a key phrase here—within a couple of minutes of watching them it becomes endearingly evident that these guys really like to play together. At a recent practice, they arranged themselves in a square and watched each other, laughing, while they played. It looks at times as if they are participating in a sport in which guitars serve as rackets: Floyd will play a little something, look at Bacon, smile, and toss the line to him; Bacon, grinning broadly, will catch it and play something back. Watching this sort of interaction is a little like watching people having an obviously delightful conversation in another language—you might not know exactly what they're talking about, but you know they sure are enjoying themselves.
"I say 'fuck' in almost every song."
Their enthusiasm for playing makes the songs more fun to listen to, as does the fact that their music is completely devoid of agenda, posturing, and affectation. It's honest. They make the recent years' crop of bring-back-rock-and-rollers look like media-constructed automatons who beg the question "bring it back from where?" "I hope we're never compared to the Strokes," says Disaster. According to Smoke Up Johnny, rock and roll has been here all along.
In keeping with the good-time feel, band practice is largely about beer (as is their practice space—PBR should pay them for the advertising that visitors are subjected to). Between takes, they tell stories of the hard livin' bad old days before wives, kids, and the physical realities of being 30-plus reduced the party-hearty lifestyle to so many 45s in the anecdote jukebox. And this is not at all to say that we're dealing with a bunch of straight-laced old fogies here—the youngest member of the band is 24, and the oldest, at 39, is the wildest. The space's unofficial mascot is a mounted deer head named "Cokie" whose nose looks sort of melted and leaks plaster dust when tapped with a drumstick. They use a lot of euphemisms. They can't get a song on NPR.
"I say 'fuck' in almost every song," says Disaster matter-of-factly, referring to the 11 tracks that make up the band's debut record, which was recorded at the Terrarium over two sweltering weeks in August, with Will Boyd (Evanescence, Big Boots, American Princes) and Zach Reeves (Tel Aviv) working the boards. The album is a collection of ten solid originals and one stellar cover (into which the word "fuck" has of course been inserted), all of which contain curse words, as well as references to drugs or some other unsavory, not-fit-for-primetime subject, or both.
Tempering that foul mouth is the band's musical tendency to make shamelessly sincere references to some rather perky classics of early 80s rock and pop rock. (This shouldn't come as a surprise, really, as the band's very name is a semi-inadvertent reference to the 1985 brat-pack standard The Breakfast Club.) "I probably like a lot of stuff that people would make fun of me for," says Alan, who feels that if a riff is good it's good, no matter where it comes from. The album's central track, "The First Time (I Was Alive)," is a contagious anthem about a boy's life-changing first encounter with rock and roll. It's in the vein of Bryan Adams's "Summer of '69," but it lacks entirely the sentimentality that could make that an unflattering comparison. While some bands could only admit that such easily digested ditties are a part of their lexicon by jabbing at them in ironic imitation, Disaster doesn't "appreciate a band that does that." He happilly gives credit where credit is due, so don't feel guilty when you pick Rick Springfield out of a new track already slated for a 7" release in the near future.
"It's desperate, fucked up, crazy livin', but it's okay."
Rock and roll has long been the province of disaffected youth, and the album is embedded in the genre without being sneering or obnoxious. Common themes like disappointment in people who've changed their colors ("12th Street"), or angsty frustration at the baseless inability to pull off a simple good night ("Right Tonight") mix with darker subjects like addiction and the death of friends, and all are articulated with a SNAFU-like acceptance that keeps anything from becoming maudlin "What I'm kinda trying to say is that it's desperate, fucked up, crazy living, but it's okay," explains Disaster, who writes the lyrics. "It's like when you listen to X, or Merle Haggard—they're these depressing lyrics, but you feel all right."
Nowhere is this attitude more evident than on "Popped Up Collar," one of two songs about friends who've passed away. This one, about the young victim of a drug overdose, details things that went wrong and ways they could have been different, and carries a simple and upbeat refrain of "It's gonna be all right." Rice and Disaster agree that anybody who knew the subjects of the songs will recognize them, and that there was no question that they would be written. "It's almost a way of coping with it," says Floyd.
One surprise, and a standout on the album (I'd say "instant classic" if the phrase didn't make me gag a little), is a cover of Otis Redding's "How Strong My Love Is," which was chosen because it is one of Alan's "favorite songs ever." The song is the perfect vehicle for what Rice refers to as the "Smoke Up Johnny stop"—that pause between phrases after which the music resumes with a resounding, gleeful head-slam.
Needless to say, they're happy with the album. And humble about it, too. "I think every band does that—you write a song, record it, and say 'yeah, I'm badass,'" Rice says, laughing at himself. If the album's finally coming into existence is a sign that the band is ready to get serious and break out of the practice-and-play-around-town rut, they're humble about that, too. When asked who their ideal tour-mates would be, Disaster declares friends and fellow Little Rockers the Moving Front. "Or Hoobastank," jokes one band member (who shall remain nameless), "but don't write that."
Upcoming from Thick Syrup: “Halloween Songs” Out in October
Local music man Travis McElroy of Thick Syrup records has some big news: In October, Thick Syrup will release “Halloween Songs” by David and Jad Fair. Right on! Sounds like a great follow-up to the band’s Monster Songs for Children that came out in 1998 on the Kill Rock Stars label.
From Travis:
“I’m very proud to put something out by the guys who helped shaped what i listen to today.
Jad Fair is a founding member of Half Japanese. He has recorded with Yo La Tengo, Daniel Johnston, Kramer, Monster Party, Jason Willett, Lumberob, Richard Hell, Strobe Talbot, The Tinklers, Naofumi Ishimaru, Mosquito, The Pastels, Teenage Fanclub, Phonocomb, DQE, John Zorn, God Is My Co-Pilot, The Tall Dwarfs, Thurston Moore, Eye, Moe Tucker, Eugene Chadbourne, Fred Frith, Mara Flynn, Kevin Blechdom, Terry Adams, The Work Dogs, Tom Ardolino, The Shapir O’Rama, R. Stevie Moore, Bill Wells, Tom Recchion, Isobel Campbell, Norman Blake, Steve Fisk, and David Fair.
Kurt Cobain had Half Japanese open for Nirvana on the group’s 1993 tour. The band’s history and influence are chronicled in the 1993 documentary Half Japanese: The Band That Would Be King.”
Congrats to Thick Syrup–this is a pretty damn good get!!
–Glen
Vacations and other scheduling conflicts kept us down for a minute, but Localist radio is back. We marked our return with a big show featuring Thick Syrup Records head dude Travis McElroy, who previewed tracks on the forthcoming compilation he's putting out that's gonna feature 24 local artists and bands. Anticipate. In the second hour, Nathan Browningham, who records on Thick Syrup and who's just moved to Little Rock, came through to chat it up. He talked touring and uncontrolable doos AND previewed a brand new song, "Award Winning Poetry," which was developed around lyrics written by his wife when she was 13. In between, we convinced a reluctant Dan Johnson to give background info on a song he wrote for his band The Contingencies and were immensely rewarded, and we had a lot of problems with our equipment. We've salvaged the bulk of the show below, but there are a few minor glitches. Listen anyway. Part 1 1. Jeff Greer- mystery track 2. momentary meltdown with the Crisco Kids 3. An A+ Setup- What Do We Need the King For 4. our equipment only works in fits and starts 5. Fits and Starts- Dancers of Wealth 6. The Contingencies- Despotism by Dynamite 7. The Moving Front- Salvation Game (inadvertent radio edit) Part 2 1. Les Attaques- Lost Pix (more fluid inadvertent radio edit) 2. W/O- French Kiss 3. Clicking Beetle Bad Omen Band- Beasting 4. The Contingencies- Simone 5. Stacy Mackey- Bowery 6. Bob Dorough- The Crawdad Song Part 3: The Nathan Browningham radio hour with a special ode-to-the-ass interlude. 1. Nathan Browningham- Award Winning Poetry 2. Elton White- I'm in Love with Your Behind 3. Suga City- Biggie feat. Z 4. Nathan Browningham- Jogging in Place 5. Nathan Browningham- Snugglebug 6. Nathan Browningham- Open Fire 7. Nathan tells a story about crapping his pants 8. Nathan Browningham- Gotta Get It Out of Here
"Hey, smoke up, Johnny." That's what Judd Nelson's ne'er-do-well character in "Breakfast Club" recalls his father saying after giving the kid his only Christmas present, a carton of cigarettes. It's a name lead singer Alan Wilkins, who everyone knows as Alan Disaster, says he stumbled on while watching TV. Still, perhaps not by coincidence, the dudes in Smoke Up Johnny rock a kind of Judd-Nelson-in-"Breakfast Club" collective style: They all smoke. They all drink cheap bear. They cuss with impunity. Onstage, with beat-up blue jeans, shit-kicker boots, tattoos and permanent circles under their eyes, they look like a band that could kick your band's ass.
It's a pose built on experience. Bassist Matt Floyd, the eldest member of the group, did years of hard traveling and fast living as a member of the fearsome Southern rawk group Go Fast. Jon Rice, the band's drummer and youngest member, formed Bumfish with several of the future members of Tel Aviv before he could drive. Corey Bacon, the band's guitarist, looks pretty fresh-faced, but his ability to flat-out shred belies any suggestion of a come-lately. And Alan Disaster, the lanky, bespectacled, long-haired frontman, has a hard time keeping track of all of his past bands — Chaos LR, Fever Fever, the Trap, the Rock City Symptom, Queen Cobra, Alan Disaster and the Fuckin' A's.
On Friday, the foursome will celebrate the release of their debut, self-titled album with a concert at White Water Tavern. The bar is sure to be teeming. Since forming almost two years ago, Smoke Up Johnny has developed a following few local acts can match. The formula is simple, contends Disaster: "We play good-time music. We play late at night. Everybody gets drunk."
But more than that, the Smoke Up Johnny plays what Rice calls "pure rock 'n' roll," an unmitigated blast of all that's simple and holy about rock. In some ways, it's an ode to barroom guitar-rock gods like Thin Lizzy and ACDC (and lesser-known heroes like the Dictators and the Wipers). Lately, in pop music writ large, that's been a popular path, but the difference between an indie rocker gone ironic down the trail of guitar solos and long hair and an unabashed lover of George Thorogood always shows through.
But in other, more visceral ways, Smoke Up Johnny's “pure rock” stems from unbridled passion. The band members pour themselves into their shows. Everyone convulses at least a little. Everyone gets sweaty. Everyone smokes cigarettes dexterously. Late in the set, Disaster's voice always goes hoarse from hollering, which is usually when Smoke Up Johnny dives into a cover of O.V Wright's (and more famously Otis Redding's) “That's How Strong Love Is,” a soul classic the Rolling Stones and Iggy Pop each tried to muddy up. Smoke Up Johnny does them one better, ferreting out the song's deep-soul core in a sweetly shambolic mess-of-a-cover.
For all the band's raucous energy live, it's no small feat then that the producing/engineering duo of Will Boyd (American Princes) and Zach Reeves (Tel Aviv) have managed to capture the same feel on the group's debut CD. Everything sounds full and clear in the mix with just enough dirt on it to keep things honest. The album features “a lot of cursing and late-night kind of songs,” quips Disaster. There's a track about going crazy; a couple of love songs with the requisite punk-rock sheen (“Everybody tells me you're a waste of my time/and your body's like a scene of a crime…but I want you/baby, anyway-ay”); and a song about a poor little rich girl “who used to catch a bus on 12th Street/now she driving down Kavanaugh.”
Even with all night-moves material and simple, punk-pop lyrics, Disaster isn't afraid to infuse his songs with emotion. “The First Time (I Was Alive)” is a joyous celebration of discovering rock 'n' roll that drips with conviction. “You know it's been such a long time,” he howls. “Since I heard that Chuck Berry record on 45/It fucking blew my 4-year-old mind/I started spinning/running around, I was alive!” “Hey Hey Mr. Wylde” and “Popped Up Collar” pay heartfelt tribute to friends of the band and longtime members of the local music community, Victor Wiley and Steven Calhoun, respectively. The songs roll all the angst, anger, loss, frustration and nostalgia of grief up into two taut, visceral bursts of punk rock.
Put together, “Smoke Up Johnny” is a rock record like Arkansas hasn't seen in decades — essential listening for anyone who's ever thrown up devil horns unironically. Travis McElroy, who runs the fledgling local label Thick Syrup, believes in the band and their music enough that he's leveraging himself: He's invested a chunk of his own money to record, release and distribute the album. “Honestly, even if I didn't make my money back, it wouldn't bother me,” he says. But McElroy's confident Smoke Up Johnny can stand up next to just about anyone. “They're a band who could play with a punk band one night and turn around and play with Lucero the next night.”
Smoke Up Johnny will likely test the out-of-town waters in the next couple of months.
“We'll go to the places were we know people,” Disaster says. “It's more about the faces than places. I want to hang out with my old bros. And rock their asses off.”
In the meantime, don't expect to see the dudes closing down bars and wilding out on the town. For the most part, they're pretty domesticated. Floyd and Rice are married, and Rice and his wife have a newborn. Disaster works at a Hillcrest bistro most nights, and on his off hours, he's reluctant to encroach on girlfriend time.
Getting out of the house: Just another reason for rocking when it counts.
Watch: A short video documentary on www.arktimes.com on Smoke Up Johnny by Deluxe36 and Rock Candy.
Listen: Smoke Up Johnny, featuring Kyoto Boom, Burt Taggart and Drexel, 9 p.m. Friday, Oct. 26, $10 with CD; $6 without CD.
Texas hold em? Damn near killed em!
Aaaaahhhooooouunshshdhuybedkksjbdhchfuduuiiim?
Tub heads!
Another rock n roll execution! Texas style, Babys! We rode the mechanical bull at Gilleys.. Smoke up Johnny proved to be THEE urban cowboys!!
I mentally undressed Dallas then jumped into a 71 stolen cadillac straight to Austin! Where all the Honeydips grabbed the bull by the horns! That's what I'm talkin bout!
STING!!! STING!!
Emo's aint got nothin to do with whiny boygroups that do backflips.
Emo's let the blue ribbin flow like the mississippi! Crooked letter, humpback eye, Sweetlips!
STING!!!!!!!!!!
Here's to hot nights in pheonix!!!
The Reverend Strychnine Twitch