Sunday, August 29, 2010
Reporting For Duty...Soon
Indeed, much time has elapsed since the last post. Blame a crushing commute to a job too far away from home. But we've rectified that matter and this will receive the attention it deserves. Expect big changes soon.
Wednesday, November 4, 2009
Q and Not U
Long, long ago in the autumn of 2004 I interviewed John Davis, then drummer of Q and Not U. He can now be found in Title Tracks.
In show and on record, Q and Not U deliver the goods: passionate, engaging performances injected with politically charged (though bathed in poetic, sometimes ambiguous) lyrics. Their performances often feel more like a religious revival than a rock show, with the audience dancing and singing fanatically along. From 2000’s No Kill No Beep Beep to 2002’s Different Damage, the band carved a definitive space in independent American music. With their new release Power, Q and Not U transcend what’s come before. The bold album breaks barriers and challenges expectations (from a group that already made a career out of breaking barriers and challenging expectations). Drummer John Davis graciously discussed the life and times of his band and himself.
First, some background. Did you grow up in the DC area?
Yeah, I grew up here. I moved to the area in 1981 when I was about to turn five years old. I went to my first punk show in 1992. It was Fugazi, L7 and Bikini Kill at the Sanctuary Theater. Totally mind-blowing. So, I feel really lucky to have been able to grow up here and just be completely forged by what was around me.
How did you become interested in playing music? Were the drums your first choice of instrument to play in a band?
My parents are both very into music and my Dad has been in radio since before I was born. So, there was always music playing, boxes of records to plunder and radio stations to run around in. Drums are not my first, nor really my primary instrument. My first instrument was guitar, which I picked up when I was 12. I was really getting into the music that would be my foundation (Beatles, Doors, Hendrix, Zeppelin, other classic rock standards) at that time and I wanted to start playing along with those records. So, for my 12th birthday, I got a guitar and I learned from there. As for the drums, I never had a lesson. I just messed around on friends' and band mates' kits until I was able to play in a band.
Do you consider yourself a "musician"? Do you practice regularly and get into drum gear and all that, the essence of being a drummer?
I do consider myself a musician, but I don't practice, get into the gear, etc. But I wouldn't consider any of that what makes someone a musician. Playing music is my life, as well as my profession, so that's who I am: a musician.
Are there drummers that you look up or that you find particularly inspiring?
Yeah, tons. Elvin Jones, Ginger Baker, Tony Allen, Pete Thomas, John Bonham, Joe Morello, Keith Moon and plenty more.
It seems that with most bands, drummers play a marginal, background role. But you are very prominent, taking care of the web site and conducting interviews. Do you feel like an equal in the band, more than "just the drummer"?
Of course. Our band is such that it wouldn't occur to me that any of us wouldn't be equal to the other in any way.
Power sounds to me even more grounded in the rhythms and drums than previous albums. Do you write any drum patterns first before any other instrument?
No, I don't think I've done that. Anything that I personally wrote in advance on this record was on guitar or piano. I wrote parts of "Collect The Diamonds," "Book of Flags," "Passwords" "Wet Work" and maybe a little more too. Basically, we all just bring ideas in and sometimes they fly and sometimes they don't. As for this being a more rhythmic record, for the life of the band we've always really been into music that is steeped in rhythm (funk, afro-beat, disco, jazz, etc.) and you can see how it's shown in different ways on all of the records. On this record, I think we just wanted to have more music that moved us and it happened to just be a little funkier than the other records we'd made.
It seems that the band is focusing more upon rhythm and other non-guitar instruments. Is it a concerted effort on the part of the band to move away from guitar-driven rock music and explore other musical terrain?
It's not a concerted effort. The way the songs came out was organic. Them being different is just a result of having two years pass between recordings. So, we're just different people and musicians now. But I am glad that we've moved in the direction we have. A lot of the bands that we get lumped in with are really boring to me.
There seems to be more collaboration on the new album with outside musicians. Will there be more of that in the future, live and on record?
That'd be nice. I enjoyed having Rafael and Pete be a part of this record, so I'd like to have others join us too. I'm sure there'll be more of that.
Any plans for you to begin singing in the band more often. I see that you did some background vox on Power?
I've done backing vocals on all of our records, but this record is so vocal-centric that I'm going to be doing some backing vocals live now. So, yeah, I'll be doing more singing. I enjoy singing, though it's hard to do it and play drums at the same time. That was a scenario we've talked about for years. How can a singing drummer not look dumb? That mic stand to the left just looks silly for some reason. But now we have no choice, so we have to do it.
You guys are touring machines. You're embarking on a tour from September through December, toured over last summer and much of the previous fall and winter. So at this point, is the band a full-time endeavor, or do you have "day jobs"?
Yeah, it's full time. We have a few random things we do on the side to bring in extra money, 'cause we're all still pretty tight for cash. But the band is definitely the main thing. I would love to make a comfortable living off of music and I think we'll be trying harder to make that happen soon.
Any specific ways you’ll be trying to do this?
Well, I abdicated the booking responsibilities over to a friend of ours who does it for a living. That's been a really good thing for us so far. I have more time to take care of other band business and he's done a great job at getting us the shows we want. We also have had some friends help us with publicity and college radio.
While at work this weekend, I found myself reading an interview with Le Tigre wherein they discussed signing to a major label. Considering their past involvement with rabidly independent/DIY projects, reading that led me to ponder the continued relevancy of independent music. Do you think a band or artist can exist independently of corporate-owned industry and thrive, and perhaps more importantly, reach a broad audience? Or, is the only way to do any of those things by working with major labels and big-time promotion agencies? I guess what I am getting at here is whether or not the Fugazi model is obsolete, or if it even existed in the first place as a viable option for any other band.
Fugazi was definitely a very special case and one that may not happen again. Other bands stayed on indie labels, like Superchunk and Sleater-Kinney, but they still "played the game," so to speak, by having publicists and doing other more major label style things. For us, we've started exploring more options with publicity because some of us in the band felt like we were going to plateau if we kept things at their current level. Considering the amount of time and work we've put into the band, we did not want to plateau. So, we've had friends help us with publicity, booking, radio, etc. So far it's been great and we'll see if it helps or not. But I do know it takes a lot of pressure off of us, since we had to do a lot of that ourselves before. We still have tons of work to do to keep the band running, but it's nice to be able to have friends there to help us take care of it. But as for whether or not a band can thrive independently, I say sure. I don't agree with the mindset that actively promoting your band through magazines, radio, television, etc is a bad thing. I believe in spreading the word on what you do in whatever way you're comfortable with. Since I'm comfortable with being in magazines, radio etc., I have no problem with what we've started doing. But I do think a band probably could, with luck, skip the entire publicity train and still do pretty well. Hell, I think that basically describes us up until this year. We did very little of that, but still sold 25,000 copies of each record, which is pretty good. So, hopefully with this extra work we're putting in, more people will hear about what we're doing.
Has Dischord been receptive to your use of booking agents and PR people?
They've definitely been open to most things we want to try. They understand that these are band decisions and they may not agree with everything we want, but things that are strictly band decisions are left up to us.
The band has asked activists to table at shows. Why?
We want to use our shows as a forum for progressive ideas, so we thought we'd ask groups to contact us about using our shows to put some ideas out there beyond what size t-shirt someone wants to buy.
What organizations or activists have tabled at your shows?
Music For America, The Empower Program, PETA, among others.
Every time I've seen the band, Chris has made a point to comment on the 2004 elections, the war on Iraq, Bush in general. Is it important to the band and to you personally that you take a political stance?
Definitely. We, as people, are political. Music is an expression of many of our sides, so the fact that our music has a political side only makes sense. It's far from the only thing in the music, but because those sorts of ideas and notions get so much attention, they can often dominate a person's perception of a band. But, like I said before, I consider our shows a forum for ideas and we want to put what we think out there and let people make their own decisions.
Power appears more outwardly political to me than your past records, not that any of the lyrics are blatant in a sloganeering or preachy, sanctimonious way. I was curious how important the lyrics are to you and to the band, and if it is necessary that everyone understand exactly what is happening in them, if one meaning is intended or one reaction desired among the audience?
I don't write the lyrics, so it's a little difficult for me to answer the question. But it's not important to the band that people understand exactly what Chris or Harris is saying. They leave their lyrics open to interpretation because they want people to participate. Since our lyrics are a little harder to decipher, there's an extra layer of investment in the music for the listener. They need to figure out what they think the song is about. I think the multiple interpretations of the lyrics that different listeners have is a pretty amazing thing. I love seeing what different perspectives people have on them.
Can a band change anything on a social or political scale?
Yes. I know that we have. Even if it's on a small scale, it's still important. Just the people that have told us that we've inspired them to register, start voting drives, talk with their families, etc. That alone is a difference. So, it makes it all the more important that we keep on talking about these things at our shows and elsewhere.
Do you think your perspective is affected by the fact that you live in DC?
Sure, living in D.C. has an effect on who we are in many ways. Sometimes you forget that you're living in the seat of power. We go by those buildings all the time and it's easy to forget how symbolic they are. But there's still a majesty to them for me, which I'm glad I've held onto. I'm really proud of D.C. and the U.S.A. despite all of the terrible things we've done and are capable of. There's so much good here that it makes me even more inspired when I see certain politicians and people misrepresent what this country is about.
You recently returned from South Africa. Did you have any fears about touring in that country? Why go there?
We went there simply 'cause we were asked. It seemed like a rare opportunity and that we should take it. We were definitely pretty nervous about going there. All of the things we heard about violence, disease, etc. But once we committed, we knew we had to go through with it and that, once we were back home, we'd be glad we went.
What were your impressions of it?
It truly is a scary and violent country. There's so much tension, crime and chaos there. The way that violence is an everyday part of people's lives is frightening. But the country is also a very beautiful and hopeful place. The duality of South Africa is fascinating.
How did the shows go? Would you tour there again?
The shows didn't go that well. We weren't the right band to bring over. Ska-punk is huge there, so we were this weird band that only a few people got. But the people that liked it REALLY liked it, so that was amazing to know that we were changing some people. Hopefully we were able to plant some musical seeds while we were there. I hope that some different music starts to sprout up there 'cause it seemed like a very stale music scene to me. I don't think we'll be going back. It was an amazing experience, but financially it seems pretty impossible to do it again.
Any plans to tour any other countries outside the usual U.S. band tour circuit of U.S., Western Europe, Canada, Japan?
No, not now. I think our trip to South Africa has kind of cooled our notions to go to more exotic spots. We'd talked about Mexico City, Brazil, Russia and some other places, but we'll have to see about
that. Maybe next year we'll start to think about that again.
With No Kill Beep Beep, I read that the band wanted to focus attention on youth and the youth of DC. Now, four years down the line, everyone is older. Do you still feel that connection with the city, and the youth of the city?
Sure, we still feel a connection, though many of the people from that cover have moved, which is kind of a bummer. I mean, we're four years older now than when we took that picture and we've changed, as has the scene in D.C. But I think we still feel connected to it. I don't go to that many shows when we're home because I'm always at shows when we're on the road. But I go to about one a month usually when we're home and I do my best to keep up with what's happening. That's a far cry from ten years ago when used to go to 3 or 4 shows a week. But I'm a different person now and my connections to the music scene change just like I do. But, yeah, I still feel Q And Not U is very connected to the D.C. scene.
In show and on record, Q and Not U deliver the goods: passionate, engaging performances injected with politically charged (though bathed in poetic, sometimes ambiguous) lyrics. Their performances often feel more like a religious revival than a rock show, with the audience dancing and singing fanatically along. From 2000’s No Kill No Beep Beep to 2002’s Different Damage, the band carved a definitive space in independent American music. With their new release Power, Q and Not U transcend what’s come before. The bold album breaks barriers and challenges expectations (from a group that already made a career out of breaking barriers and challenging expectations). Drummer John Davis graciously discussed the life and times of his band and himself.
First, some background. Did you grow up in the DC area?
Yeah, I grew up here. I moved to the area in 1981 when I was about to turn five years old. I went to my first punk show in 1992. It was Fugazi, L7 and Bikini Kill at the Sanctuary Theater. Totally mind-blowing. So, I feel really lucky to have been able to grow up here and just be completely forged by what was around me.
How did you become interested in playing music? Were the drums your first choice of instrument to play in a band?
My parents are both very into music and my Dad has been in radio since before I was born. So, there was always music playing, boxes of records to plunder and radio stations to run around in. Drums are not my first, nor really my primary instrument. My first instrument was guitar, which I picked up when I was 12. I was really getting into the music that would be my foundation (Beatles, Doors, Hendrix, Zeppelin, other classic rock standards) at that time and I wanted to start playing along with those records. So, for my 12th birthday, I got a guitar and I learned from there. As for the drums, I never had a lesson. I just messed around on friends' and band mates' kits until I was able to play in a band.
Do you consider yourself a "musician"? Do you practice regularly and get into drum gear and all that, the essence of being a drummer?
I do consider myself a musician, but I don't practice, get into the gear, etc. But I wouldn't consider any of that what makes someone a musician. Playing music is my life, as well as my profession, so that's who I am: a musician.
Are there drummers that you look up or that you find particularly inspiring?
Yeah, tons. Elvin Jones, Ginger Baker, Tony Allen, Pete Thomas, John Bonham, Joe Morello, Keith Moon and plenty more.
It seems that with most bands, drummers play a marginal, background role. But you are very prominent, taking care of the web site and conducting interviews. Do you feel like an equal in the band, more than "just the drummer"?
Of course. Our band is such that it wouldn't occur to me that any of us wouldn't be equal to the other in any way.
Power sounds to me even more grounded in the rhythms and drums than previous albums. Do you write any drum patterns first before any other instrument?
No, I don't think I've done that. Anything that I personally wrote in advance on this record was on guitar or piano. I wrote parts of "Collect The Diamonds," "Book of Flags," "Passwords" "Wet Work" and maybe a little more too. Basically, we all just bring ideas in and sometimes they fly and sometimes they don't. As for this being a more rhythmic record, for the life of the band we've always really been into music that is steeped in rhythm (funk, afro-beat, disco, jazz, etc.) and you can see how it's shown in different ways on all of the records. On this record, I think we just wanted to have more music that moved us and it happened to just be a little funkier than the other records we'd made.
It seems that the band is focusing more upon rhythm and other non-guitar instruments. Is it a concerted effort on the part of the band to move away from guitar-driven rock music and explore other musical terrain?
It's not a concerted effort. The way the songs came out was organic. Them being different is just a result of having two years pass between recordings. So, we're just different people and musicians now. But I am glad that we've moved in the direction we have. A lot of the bands that we get lumped in with are really boring to me.
There seems to be more collaboration on the new album with outside musicians. Will there be more of that in the future, live and on record?
That'd be nice. I enjoyed having Rafael and Pete be a part of this record, so I'd like to have others join us too. I'm sure there'll be more of that.
Any plans for you to begin singing in the band more often. I see that you did some background vox on Power?
I've done backing vocals on all of our records, but this record is so vocal-centric that I'm going to be doing some backing vocals live now. So, yeah, I'll be doing more singing. I enjoy singing, though it's hard to do it and play drums at the same time. That was a scenario we've talked about for years. How can a singing drummer not look dumb? That mic stand to the left just looks silly for some reason. But now we have no choice, so we have to do it.
You guys are touring machines. You're embarking on a tour from September through December, toured over last summer and much of the previous fall and winter. So at this point, is the band a full-time endeavor, or do you have "day jobs"?
Yeah, it's full time. We have a few random things we do on the side to bring in extra money, 'cause we're all still pretty tight for cash. But the band is definitely the main thing. I would love to make a comfortable living off of music and I think we'll be trying harder to make that happen soon.
Any specific ways you’ll be trying to do this?
Well, I abdicated the booking responsibilities over to a friend of ours who does it for a living. That's been a really good thing for us so far. I have more time to take care of other band business and he's done a great job at getting us the shows we want. We also have had some friends help us with publicity and college radio.
While at work this weekend, I found myself reading an interview with Le Tigre wherein they discussed signing to a major label. Considering their past involvement with rabidly independent/DIY projects, reading that led me to ponder the continued relevancy of independent music. Do you think a band or artist can exist independently of corporate-owned industry and thrive, and perhaps more importantly, reach a broad audience? Or, is the only way to do any of those things by working with major labels and big-time promotion agencies? I guess what I am getting at here is whether or not the Fugazi model is obsolete, or if it even existed in the first place as a viable option for any other band.
Fugazi was definitely a very special case and one that may not happen again. Other bands stayed on indie labels, like Superchunk and Sleater-Kinney, but they still "played the game," so to speak, by having publicists and doing other more major label style things. For us, we've started exploring more options with publicity because some of us in the band felt like we were going to plateau if we kept things at their current level. Considering the amount of time and work we've put into the band, we did not want to plateau. So, we've had friends help us with publicity, booking, radio, etc. So far it's been great and we'll see if it helps or not. But I do know it takes a lot of pressure off of us, since we had to do a lot of that ourselves before. We still have tons of work to do to keep the band running, but it's nice to be able to have friends there to help us take care of it. But as for whether or not a band can thrive independently, I say sure. I don't agree with the mindset that actively promoting your band through magazines, radio, television, etc is a bad thing. I believe in spreading the word on what you do in whatever way you're comfortable with. Since I'm comfortable with being in magazines, radio etc., I have no problem with what we've started doing. But I do think a band probably could, with luck, skip the entire publicity train and still do pretty well. Hell, I think that basically describes us up until this year. We did very little of that, but still sold 25,000 copies of each record, which is pretty good. So, hopefully with this extra work we're putting in, more people will hear about what we're doing.
Has Dischord been receptive to your use of booking agents and PR people?
They've definitely been open to most things we want to try. They understand that these are band decisions and they may not agree with everything we want, but things that are strictly band decisions are left up to us.
The band has asked activists to table at shows. Why?
We want to use our shows as a forum for progressive ideas, so we thought we'd ask groups to contact us about using our shows to put some ideas out there beyond what size t-shirt someone wants to buy.
What organizations or activists have tabled at your shows?
Music For America, The Empower Program, PETA, among others.
Every time I've seen the band, Chris has made a point to comment on the 2004 elections, the war on Iraq, Bush in general. Is it important to the band and to you personally that you take a political stance?
Definitely. We, as people, are political. Music is an expression of many of our sides, so the fact that our music has a political side only makes sense. It's far from the only thing in the music, but because those sorts of ideas and notions get so much attention, they can often dominate a person's perception of a band. But, like I said before, I consider our shows a forum for ideas and we want to put what we think out there and let people make their own decisions.
Power appears more outwardly political to me than your past records, not that any of the lyrics are blatant in a sloganeering or preachy, sanctimonious way. I was curious how important the lyrics are to you and to the band, and if it is necessary that everyone understand exactly what is happening in them, if one meaning is intended or one reaction desired among the audience?
I don't write the lyrics, so it's a little difficult for me to answer the question. But it's not important to the band that people understand exactly what Chris or Harris is saying. They leave their lyrics open to interpretation because they want people to participate. Since our lyrics are a little harder to decipher, there's an extra layer of investment in the music for the listener. They need to figure out what they think the song is about. I think the multiple interpretations of the lyrics that different listeners have is a pretty amazing thing. I love seeing what different perspectives people have on them.
Can a band change anything on a social or political scale?
Yes. I know that we have. Even if it's on a small scale, it's still important. Just the people that have told us that we've inspired them to register, start voting drives, talk with their families, etc. That alone is a difference. So, it makes it all the more important that we keep on talking about these things at our shows and elsewhere.
Do you think your perspective is affected by the fact that you live in DC?
Sure, living in D.C. has an effect on who we are in many ways. Sometimes you forget that you're living in the seat of power. We go by those buildings all the time and it's easy to forget how symbolic they are. But there's still a majesty to them for me, which I'm glad I've held onto. I'm really proud of D.C. and the U.S.A. despite all of the terrible things we've done and are capable of. There's so much good here that it makes me even more inspired when I see certain politicians and people misrepresent what this country is about.
You recently returned from South Africa. Did you have any fears about touring in that country? Why go there?
We went there simply 'cause we were asked. It seemed like a rare opportunity and that we should take it. We were definitely pretty nervous about going there. All of the things we heard about violence, disease, etc. But once we committed, we knew we had to go through with it and that, once we were back home, we'd be glad we went.
What were your impressions of it?
It truly is a scary and violent country. There's so much tension, crime and chaos there. The way that violence is an everyday part of people's lives is frightening. But the country is also a very beautiful and hopeful place. The duality of South Africa is fascinating.
How did the shows go? Would you tour there again?
The shows didn't go that well. We weren't the right band to bring over. Ska-punk is huge there, so we were this weird band that only a few people got. But the people that liked it REALLY liked it, so that was amazing to know that we were changing some people. Hopefully we were able to plant some musical seeds while we were there. I hope that some different music starts to sprout up there 'cause it seemed like a very stale music scene to me. I don't think we'll be going back. It was an amazing experience, but financially it seems pretty impossible to do it again.
Any plans to tour any other countries outside the usual U.S. band tour circuit of U.S., Western Europe, Canada, Japan?
No, not now. I think our trip to South Africa has kind of cooled our notions to go to more exotic spots. We'd talked about Mexico City, Brazil, Russia and some other places, but we'll have to see about
that. Maybe next year we'll start to think about that again.
With No Kill Beep Beep, I read that the band wanted to focus attention on youth and the youth of DC. Now, four years down the line, everyone is older. Do you still feel that connection with the city, and the youth of the city?
Sure, we still feel a connection, though many of the people from that cover have moved, which is kind of a bummer. I mean, we're four years older now than when we took that picture and we've changed, as has the scene in D.C. But I think we still feel connected to it. I don't go to that many shows when we're home because I'm always at shows when we're on the road. But I go to about one a month usually when we're home and I do my best to keep up with what's happening. That's a far cry from ten years ago when used to go to 3 or 4 shows a week. But I'm a different person now and my connections to the music scene change just like I do. But, yeah, I still feel Q And Not U is very connected to the D.C. scene.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
L.A.
From the tour journals
October 1
4:26 PM
We're marooned in L.A. rush hour traffic on Rt. 5 South. On a Friday. This is our punishment for leaving late. Ray graciously offered his floor to us for a few nights. We'll spend the next week and a half in California. I can think of worse states in the union to spend 10 days. The weather is stereotypically mild and wonderful. Last night's show was unremarkable. A guy in one of the other bands somehow fell off a pick-up truck and broke the fall with his skull. An ambulance was called.
As I stare at the stalled motorists surrounding me like a scene out of an impending apocalypse film wherein every resident of the city under siege attempts to flee in one long motorcade of belching horns and frantic drivers, I recall two episodes while stranded in such traffic involving me, my bandmates and restroom needs.
l
When the band last traveled to California, we found ourselves idle in a similar roadway juggernaut. If you will recall, we utilized Greg's minivan. Since it sat four, one of us always had to join the Lickgoldensky van. On this particular drive, Greg took one for the team, forsook his automobile and drove with LGS.
One member of our team who shall remain nameless was stricken with a terrible pang to pee. Our van did not budge. Any hope of reaching a restroom was dim for hours. The victim- a connoisseur of gadgets and toys (he brought a bag full of goods, including a portable stove to heat tea and canned goods)- had nothing on hand to help his problem. Of course we made fun of him until all of us were in tears from laughter.
"Alright," he concluded. "I have to go. I can't wait."
Sitting beside him in the back bucket seats, I glanced over to discover his solution. He pulled his trusty Nalgene bottle from beside the seat.
"No fucking way are you using that!" I exclaimed.
The front seat passengers shot shocked looks back and exploded in guffaws and roars. Our fearless bladder-hurting bandmate coolly remarked, grinning, "I have to go." He reassured us, "Don't worry, I'll clean it."
“ARRRGGGGUUUGGGAAAAHHHH,” went the van in a symphony of grunts of disgust.
He rose from the seat and shuffled to his knees. It looked like he was kneeling at the pew, supplicant towards the urine god. The zipper went down and he held the Nalgene bottle below himself, facing the sliding door. The driver swerved the van maniacally.
"Cut it out! I'm going to get it all over the van!" "
"Wait til we tell Greg you pissed in his van!"
He tried with all his might to force the golden stream. I watched as his face clenched like he lifted weights or biked a marathon. He made straining sounds like a porno actor.
"I can't do it," he finally conceded. With that, traffic eased up.
ll
The first time we played LA in October of 2003, we obviously sat in stifling traffic. We left Sunset Boulevard, where we enjoyed a fulfilling meal at California Vegan. As we inched along the “freeway” (highway in California-ese), I began to experience the wrath of the freshly devoured feast. I felt the incredible need to relieve myself- and not in a way that involved standing.
Every second seemed to bring the act closer and closer to requiring prompt resolution. Billy had the van rolling with his impressions from Silence of the Lambs. “Put the fucking lotion in the basket!” And I was giggling and almost crying because I knew I would lose myself to the horror of soiling my pants.
I tried to focus on the gritty environment of whatever not-so hot neighborhood we crawled past. I fixated on the Non-prophets CD Greg put in the player. Then “Can you help me with this couch?” and I was laughing and gripping the seat until my fingers went white.
Somehow I managed to persevere until we reached our destination, Koo’s Café. Everyone jumped out and I sped towards the entrance. I approached the first kid in sight: “Where’s the bathroom?” He seemed startled. Perhaps it was my look of total despair: “Next door,” he said. “But you have to wait, they’re finishing up an art show.” I disregarded this and ran into the adjoining room. I found the bathroom, grabbed the knob and it didn’t budge- some motherfucker occupied it in my time of need! They came out, I rushed into what was a surprisingly clean restroom for an art/punk venue, all was then well with the world and we played a fantastic show.
October 1
4:26 PM
We're marooned in L.A. rush hour traffic on Rt. 5 South. On a Friday. This is our punishment for leaving late. Ray graciously offered his floor to us for a few nights. We'll spend the next week and a half in California. I can think of worse states in the union to spend 10 days. The weather is stereotypically mild and wonderful. Last night's show was unremarkable. A guy in one of the other bands somehow fell off a pick-up truck and broke the fall with his skull. An ambulance was called.
As I stare at the stalled motorists surrounding me like a scene out of an impending apocalypse film wherein every resident of the city under siege attempts to flee in one long motorcade of belching horns and frantic drivers, I recall two episodes while stranded in such traffic involving me, my bandmates and restroom needs.
l
When the band last traveled to California, we found ourselves idle in a similar roadway juggernaut. If you will recall, we utilized Greg's minivan. Since it sat four, one of us always had to join the Lickgoldensky van. On this particular drive, Greg took one for the team, forsook his automobile and drove with LGS.
One member of our team who shall remain nameless was stricken with a terrible pang to pee. Our van did not budge. Any hope of reaching a restroom was dim for hours. The victim- a connoisseur of gadgets and toys (he brought a bag full of goods, including a portable stove to heat tea and canned goods)- had nothing on hand to help his problem. Of course we made fun of him until all of us were in tears from laughter.
"Alright," he concluded. "I have to go. I can't wait."
Sitting beside him in the back bucket seats, I glanced over to discover his solution. He pulled his trusty Nalgene bottle from beside the seat.
"No fucking way are you using that!" I exclaimed.
The front seat passengers shot shocked looks back and exploded in guffaws and roars. Our fearless bladder-hurting bandmate coolly remarked, grinning, "I have to go." He reassured us, "Don't worry, I'll clean it."
“ARRRGGGGUUUGGGAAAAHHHH,” went the van in a symphony of grunts of disgust.
He rose from the seat and shuffled to his knees. It looked like he was kneeling at the pew, supplicant towards the urine god. The zipper went down and he held the Nalgene bottle below himself, facing the sliding door. The driver swerved the van maniacally.
"Cut it out! I'm going to get it all over the van!" "
"Wait til we tell Greg you pissed in his van!"
He tried with all his might to force the golden stream. I watched as his face clenched like he lifted weights or biked a marathon. He made straining sounds like a porno actor.
"I can't do it," he finally conceded. With that, traffic eased up.
ll
The first time we played LA in October of 2003, we obviously sat in stifling traffic. We left Sunset Boulevard, where we enjoyed a fulfilling meal at California Vegan. As we inched along the “freeway” (highway in California-ese), I began to experience the wrath of the freshly devoured feast. I felt the incredible need to relieve myself- and not in a way that involved standing.
Every second seemed to bring the act closer and closer to requiring prompt resolution. Billy had the van rolling with his impressions from Silence of the Lambs. “Put the fucking lotion in the basket!” And I was giggling and almost crying because I knew I would lose myself to the horror of soiling my pants.
I tried to focus on the gritty environment of whatever not-so hot neighborhood we crawled past. I fixated on the Non-prophets CD Greg put in the player. Then “Can you help me with this couch?” and I was laughing and gripping the seat until my fingers went white.
Somehow I managed to persevere until we reached our destination, Koo’s Café. Everyone jumped out and I sped towards the entrance. I approached the first kid in sight: “Where’s the bathroom?” He seemed startled. Perhaps it was my look of total despair: “Next door,” he said. “But you have to wait, they’re finishing up an art show.” I disregarded this and ran into the adjoining room. I found the bathroom, grabbed the knob and it didn’t budge- some motherfucker occupied it in my time of need! They came out, I rushed into what was a surprisingly clean restroom for an art/punk venue, all was then well with the world and we played a fantastic show.
Thursday, September 3, 2009
Shellac/Uzeda
One of the first online music magazines to give this greenhorn a shot was Indieworkshop. It was run by good people and I felt honored that they'd let me do and cover essentially whatever I pleased. As my luck would have it, they bought the farm months after I joined the fold. This is one of many things I wrote for that much missed site.
Shellac/Uzeda
September 1, 2006
Philadelphia, PA
Not even a soaking, tree-limb antagonizing tropical storm could keep several hundred away from a Shellac show. It was a Friday night after all. Chicago’s finest handily sold out staunchly independent venue (Philly’s last) the First Unitarian Church. They brought along Sicilian old heads Uzeda, long-term touring compatriots. Considering the thundering underbellies and razor-sharp guitars of both acts, the show portended potent slash-and-burn performances.
I sprinted two blocks from my vehicle’s perch above the roaring Schuylkill River into the dry refuge of the Church just in time for Uzeda. Though they looked like your parents (even your parents’ parents- these Sicilians have been kicking it off-time rhythms and angular guitar style for the better part of two decades), Uzeda, in a verb, rocked. The drummer played the part of straight man, slamming out serious halting rhythms, while the bassist never once let his smile slip. He was the cheeriest Sicilian I’ve ever seen at the Church. The singer stood and shook with every howl, punctuating many words with some punches to the sky. Their guitarist spent as much time ripping shards of guitar noises from his aluminum axe as he did with mouth wide open in mock roar. Though they performed a bit of long set, Uzeda won over a crowd hungry for a rare Shellac appearance.
With no pretense or air of a dramatic entrance, the members of Shellac casually ascended the stage, wheeled their gear into place and prepared the assault. Drummer Todd Trainer disappeared, much to the apparent consternation of recording engineer band mates Bob Weston and Steve Albini. Weston stood with bass slung over his shoulder, eyeing the audience for a sign or a signal from the errant drummer. Albini (having disrobed from his mechanic jumpsuit) crouched down to talk with nearby audience members. Trainer soon materialized, donning two women’s blouses: an inner glittery silver one, with a black velour one on top. Did he hit up a nearby Salvation Army box? Pay a passing vagrant for the attire? Retrieve the dresses from the van specifically for the occasion?
Shellac quickly plugged in, turned on and churned out nearly an hour and a half of classics from their three long players, as well as live-only favorites and a handful of tunes slated to appear on their upcoming album (due anytime between now and 2007, according to Touch and Go’s website). They treated us to pummeling renditions of “My Black Ass,” “Canada,” “Prayer to God” and “Song of the Minerals.” They also blessed us with non-album classics “Steady as She Goes,” “The End of Radio,” “Be Prepared” and “Lulabelle,” any of which could pop up on their new record. The newer songs featured a rather tuneful Albini, along with long, dramatic soliloquies, particularly on the stirring “Lulabelle.”
As always, Albini played the role of raving bespectacled madman. He stormed in his robotic stumbling way, sometimes gripping the mic and yowling like a coyote in heat, or bouncing about like a toddler hopped up on Twinkies. He wore his customary round-the-waist guitar strap (slung to his trusty Travis Bean), and played like some alt-world Eric Clapton. Bob Weston sung many tunes as well, revealing his more melodic side. He effortlessly held down the material, as Trainer hammered away, looking almost giddy like a kid on a Christmas morning and his birthday party combined.
Shellac delivered not one, but TWO Q and A sessions (perhaps revealing their age and lack of practice, since Weston explained that the Q and A’s are physically necessary respites). Audience members in Philly proved unimaginative, with the routine “What kind of guitar is that” to “Where is the new album.” Weston did make the astute observation after a mosh pit broke out: “Were you guys really slam dancing to our second slowest song? That’s so fucking stupid.” When one fearless person inquired, “What’s the most impressive thing you’ve seen,” Albini responded, “David Yow wrapped his cock twice around his wrist, pulled the head through and called it his Italian Wrist Watch.”
The set ended with Albini and Weston taking Trainer’s drums apart mid-song, and then carrying the grinning drummer away from his disassembled kit. The call for an encore went unheeded. Shellac is one band that will not do what anyone tells them. To bolster this assessment, Albini offered a rousing speech lambasting the current state of Live Nation-run music business, and championing the quickly dying breed of independent music venues and culture. From a man once labeled one of the “biggest assholes in rock,” the sentiment hopefully resounded long after the last dying notes of the band’s performance.
Shellac/Uzeda
September 1, 2006
Philadelphia, PA
Not even a soaking, tree-limb antagonizing tropical storm could keep several hundred away from a Shellac show. It was a Friday night after all. Chicago’s finest handily sold out staunchly independent venue (Philly’s last) the First Unitarian Church. They brought along Sicilian old heads Uzeda, long-term touring compatriots. Considering the thundering underbellies and razor-sharp guitars of both acts, the show portended potent slash-and-burn performances.
I sprinted two blocks from my vehicle’s perch above the roaring Schuylkill River into the dry refuge of the Church just in time for Uzeda. Though they looked like your parents (even your parents’ parents- these Sicilians have been kicking it off-time rhythms and angular guitar style for the better part of two decades), Uzeda, in a verb, rocked. The drummer played the part of straight man, slamming out serious halting rhythms, while the bassist never once let his smile slip. He was the cheeriest Sicilian I’ve ever seen at the Church. The singer stood and shook with every howl, punctuating many words with some punches to the sky. Their guitarist spent as much time ripping shards of guitar noises from his aluminum axe as he did with mouth wide open in mock roar. Though they performed a bit of long set, Uzeda won over a crowd hungry for a rare Shellac appearance.
With no pretense or air of a dramatic entrance, the members of Shellac casually ascended the stage, wheeled their gear into place and prepared the assault. Drummer Todd Trainer disappeared, much to the apparent consternation of recording engineer band mates Bob Weston and Steve Albini. Weston stood with bass slung over his shoulder, eyeing the audience for a sign or a signal from the errant drummer. Albini (having disrobed from his mechanic jumpsuit) crouched down to talk with nearby audience members. Trainer soon materialized, donning two women’s blouses: an inner glittery silver one, with a black velour one on top. Did he hit up a nearby Salvation Army box? Pay a passing vagrant for the attire? Retrieve the dresses from the van specifically for the occasion?
Shellac quickly plugged in, turned on and churned out nearly an hour and a half of classics from their three long players, as well as live-only favorites and a handful of tunes slated to appear on their upcoming album (due anytime between now and 2007, according to Touch and Go’s website). They treated us to pummeling renditions of “My Black Ass,” “Canada,” “Prayer to God” and “Song of the Minerals.” They also blessed us with non-album classics “Steady as She Goes,” “The End of Radio,” “Be Prepared” and “Lulabelle,” any of which could pop up on their new record. The newer songs featured a rather tuneful Albini, along with long, dramatic soliloquies, particularly on the stirring “Lulabelle.”
As always, Albini played the role of raving bespectacled madman. He stormed in his robotic stumbling way, sometimes gripping the mic and yowling like a coyote in heat, or bouncing about like a toddler hopped up on Twinkies. He wore his customary round-the-waist guitar strap (slung to his trusty Travis Bean), and played like some alt-world Eric Clapton. Bob Weston sung many tunes as well, revealing his more melodic side. He effortlessly held down the material, as Trainer hammered away, looking almost giddy like a kid on a Christmas morning and his birthday party combined.
Shellac delivered not one, but TWO Q and A sessions (perhaps revealing their age and lack of practice, since Weston explained that the Q and A’s are physically necessary respites). Audience members in Philly proved unimaginative, with the routine “What kind of guitar is that” to “Where is the new album.” Weston did make the astute observation after a mosh pit broke out: “Were you guys really slam dancing to our second slowest song? That’s so fucking stupid.” When one fearless person inquired, “What’s the most impressive thing you’ve seen,” Albini responded, “David Yow wrapped his cock twice around his wrist, pulled the head through and called it his Italian Wrist Watch.”
The set ended with Albini and Weston taking Trainer’s drums apart mid-song, and then carrying the grinning drummer away from his disassembled kit. The call for an encore went unheeded. Shellac is one band that will not do what anyone tells them. To bolster this assessment, Albini offered a rousing speech lambasting the current state of Live Nation-run music business, and championing the quickly dying breed of independent music venues and culture. From a man once labeled one of the “biggest assholes in rock,” the sentiment hopefully resounded long after the last dying notes of the band’s performance.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
Desert Thoughts
From the tour journals
Sept. 28
11:49 AM
Everyone but the driver and I is asleep. You sleep a lot in the van. What else are we going to do, engage one another in philosophical discussions? We're like cats- we spend most of our time asleep. We played at a great youth space last night called Warehouse 21. Maybe 20 kids came to the show. I wonder if many kids attend any shows there. Josh suffered unending technical snafus. That marred the set somewhat. Both of us have had our share of amp problems. Maybe on the west coast we can find a reliable dude to solve our issues. Tonight's show will probably be lightly attended as well. It's Tuesday, who wants to go to a show on a Tuesday? The unwritten rule is that Mondays through Wednesdays are bad nights for shows. You have to eliminate your expectations. Nothing goes the way you think it will. Greg is good at this. He can be rather negative, assuming every show will be a colossal failure. Yet there is merit in this steely outlook because you can never be disappointed.
12:37 PM
Driving through New Mexico is like cruising the moon. This is alien landscape. The yellow-rock hills hiding pueblos and pick-up trucks. The long stretches of green grasslands with shrubs, campers, mobile homes and more pick-up trucks. Everything here is Mexican. Our forefathers stole this land from them, but it's still Mexican. You can take the land from Mexico, but you can't take Mexico from the land. We hide our secrets out here in the southwest: our bombs, our nuclear testing, our UFOs, our bloodstained legacy of genocide and imperialism. This is the closet full of skeletons and their bones creak against the hills and their moans swim in these winds. They can try but we can't silence the ghost stories of ancient crimes. Ours is a nation eternally haunted by the poltergeists of the past.
Sept. 29
11:38 AM
As much as I could never fathom living here, there's no denying the beauty of Arizona, with its lush evergreen trees in the north of Flagstaff and Sedona down to the bare, brown hills and craggy cactus-lined sand outside Phoenix. We played in a bar last night. Previously, we've always played the space Modified Arts, but another show prevented us from playing there. I hate playing bars and clubs. Maybe it's my antipathy to smoke and alcohol. I'm just never comfortable in those settings. We'll be playing a rock club in L.A., in contrast to the usual kid-run DIY space. Apparently some kids intend to boycott our show at the rock club. It's rather absurd. While I'd rather play the DIY venue, it's amusing that kids become so riled up about the type of venue we perform within. I usually have more fun playing the DIY venue with the bad sound than the rock joint with the pro-sound system (more times than not, the sound guys at such places make us sound even worse through their top-of-the-line equipment).
12:35 PM
Wherever we are looks like Mars. Strange, gnarled trees with spiny green tips jut out from the red dirt. Are these Joshua trees? There is nothing here but these and hills and rocks. I am so far away from home.
12:43 PM
Everything out here is surrounded by fences. Fences enclose mountains, desert, lakes, farms, forests. I want to run outside and climb these desert hills. I want to spend days wandering in the blinding unknown waiting just beyond the van window. But we cannot trespass.
2:13 PM
Food ravages my brain. It's the lack thereof- the malnutrition hijacking standard cognitive function. I remember dining out with the family when I was young: Pizza Hut, McDonalds, diners. I grew up on fast food, Spaghettios, Beef-a-roni, Mac n Cheese, Kool Aid. Maybe this is why veganism appealed to me later on down the line. I grew up in the tall shadows of New York City. I was obsessed with the city as a kid. I drew pictures of its skylines, daydreamed of scaling the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building or the Twin Towers. My mom never wanted to take me, though this was the 80s and NYC was a far different place then than it is now.
Sept. 30
1:26 PM
Now we drive towards that cultural holy ground known as Bakersfield. Why we plan to arrive three hours early is a mystery to me. Last night's show occurred at Balcony Lights, the same record store we played in not even six months ago. I enjoyed myself. Kids seemed to enjoy themselves. Yet the rest of the band felt is was a sub-par show. We never agree on the quality of a show. Everyone experiences the set in their own unique way. The slightest thing can throw me off. It is extraordinarily rare thing for us to agree unanimously on how we played, though we tend to concur when a set is a disaster. So we continue our drive through the eye-squinting bright desert with the heat blasting full bore due to the van being on the verge of overheating.
Sept. 28
11:49 AM
Everyone but the driver and I is asleep. You sleep a lot in the van. What else are we going to do, engage one another in philosophical discussions? We're like cats- we spend most of our time asleep. We played at a great youth space last night called Warehouse 21. Maybe 20 kids came to the show. I wonder if many kids attend any shows there. Josh suffered unending technical snafus. That marred the set somewhat. Both of us have had our share of amp problems. Maybe on the west coast we can find a reliable dude to solve our issues. Tonight's show will probably be lightly attended as well. It's Tuesday, who wants to go to a show on a Tuesday? The unwritten rule is that Mondays through Wednesdays are bad nights for shows. You have to eliminate your expectations. Nothing goes the way you think it will. Greg is good at this. He can be rather negative, assuming every show will be a colossal failure. Yet there is merit in this steely outlook because you can never be disappointed.
12:37 PM
Driving through New Mexico is like cruising the moon. This is alien landscape. The yellow-rock hills hiding pueblos and pick-up trucks. The long stretches of green grasslands with shrubs, campers, mobile homes and more pick-up trucks. Everything here is Mexican. Our forefathers stole this land from them, but it's still Mexican. You can take the land from Mexico, but you can't take Mexico from the land. We hide our secrets out here in the southwest: our bombs, our nuclear testing, our UFOs, our bloodstained legacy of genocide and imperialism. This is the closet full of skeletons and their bones creak against the hills and their moans swim in these winds. They can try but we can't silence the ghost stories of ancient crimes. Ours is a nation eternally haunted by the poltergeists of the past.
Sept. 29
11:38 AM
As much as I could never fathom living here, there's no denying the beauty of Arizona, with its lush evergreen trees in the north of Flagstaff and Sedona down to the bare, brown hills and craggy cactus-lined sand outside Phoenix. We played in a bar last night. Previously, we've always played the space Modified Arts, but another show prevented us from playing there. I hate playing bars and clubs. Maybe it's my antipathy to smoke and alcohol. I'm just never comfortable in those settings. We'll be playing a rock club in L.A., in contrast to the usual kid-run DIY space. Apparently some kids intend to boycott our show at the rock club. It's rather absurd. While I'd rather play the DIY venue, it's amusing that kids become so riled up about the type of venue we perform within. I usually have more fun playing the DIY venue with the bad sound than the rock joint with the pro-sound system (more times than not, the sound guys at such places make us sound even worse through their top-of-the-line equipment).
12:35 PM
Wherever we are looks like Mars. Strange, gnarled trees with spiny green tips jut out from the red dirt. Are these Joshua trees? There is nothing here but these and hills and rocks. I am so far away from home.
12:43 PM
Everything out here is surrounded by fences. Fences enclose mountains, desert, lakes, farms, forests. I want to run outside and climb these desert hills. I want to spend days wandering in the blinding unknown waiting just beyond the van window. But we cannot trespass.
2:13 PM
Food ravages my brain. It's the lack thereof- the malnutrition hijacking standard cognitive function. I remember dining out with the family when I was young: Pizza Hut, McDonalds, diners. I grew up on fast food, Spaghettios, Beef-a-roni, Mac n Cheese, Kool Aid. Maybe this is why veganism appealed to me later on down the line. I grew up in the tall shadows of New York City. I was obsessed with the city as a kid. I drew pictures of its skylines, daydreamed of scaling the Statue of Liberty or the Empire State Building or the Twin Towers. My mom never wanted to take me, though this was the 80s and NYC was a far different place then than it is now.
Sept. 30
1:26 PM
Now we drive towards that cultural holy ground known as Bakersfield. Why we plan to arrive three hours early is a mystery to me. Last night's show occurred at Balcony Lights, the same record store we played in not even six months ago. I enjoyed myself. Kids seemed to enjoy themselves. Yet the rest of the band felt is was a sub-par show. We never agree on the quality of a show. Everyone experiences the set in their own unique way. The slightest thing can throw me off. It is extraordinarily rare thing for us to agree unanimously on how we played, though we tend to concur when a set is a disaster. So we continue our drive through the eye-squinting bright desert with the heat blasting full bore due to the van being on the verge of overheating.
Sunday, August 9, 2009
Coliseum
This is an interview done with Ryan Patterson of Coliseum sometime in 2005. Original introduction included.
Ryan Patterson is a big man, with a big plan and a big voice. Through Coliseum, he’s already brought his message and his mission across the U.S. New EP Goddamage on Manic Ride Records takes everything the band did on last year’s debut full-length, and magnifies it. The beats are faster, the playing more precise and Patterson’s vocals leaner and meaner. Feast your ears on healthy helpings of such weighty cuts as “Year of the Pig” and the soon-to-be classic “Dehumanize” (not the Void song ‘Dehumanized’). I spoke with Ryan at length, because, well, Ryan can only speak at length. He’s a modern day sage, spinning cagey tales and declarations that reverberate for days. Despite the grisly bear live beast Ryan becomes, he’s among the more personable guys you’ll meet. And he’s perennially amped on music and constantly inspired to be punk. Indeed, quite rare in this late stage in the decadence of DIY punk hardcore or what have you.
When you started Coliseum, did you intend it to be your outlet, as opposed to your role in the other bands you were in at the time?
Ryan: Yeah, certainly having a podium of some sort from which to stand and vent my thoughts or feelings, either through lyrics or via speaking on stage, was a large part of my desire to put this band together. It's not the only reason by any means - I also wanted to start a fast heavy punk metal kind of band and tour a lot more than I ever had before. I'm not sure if every non-singing member of any band feels this way too, but for a number of years I was having a great time playing guitar in bands, but felt that my voice wasn't being heard. So, when Black Cross started back in 2001 we made a conscious decision to have not only Rob, the singer, talk on stage, but hopefully have it be more of an open forum for all the members to at least say something from the stage, as well as have to agree on the topics of the lyrics on at least a base level.
But if Rob’s the singer, he has the focus, the main voice.
Admittedly, it ended up being mostly Rob talking, with me adding in by talking on stage a little and all of us discussing the lyrics with him. I felt fairly content with Black Cross, honestly. I was able to say what I wanted to say to a certain extent and felt that the ideas the band conveyed were great. But, more and more I had a burning desire to be the frontman / lyricist of a band again, which I hadn't done since the mid 90s, in bands that weren't very good and never really accomplished anything. That need or desire was somewhat coupled with one of the most intense and confusing times of disillusionment in my life since my late teens. When it finally became apparent that Black Cross would not ever be a full time touring band, I decided to try and start this new band that been an idea brewing in my head for many years. Writing lyrics for the first time in so many years was really scary... But I tried my best to filter through my thoughts and get right to the point. So yeah, it's certainly a pretty thorough outlet for me with music and ideas.
At shows you've spoken candidly about personal issues, as well as politics. Do you ever regret opening up and just speaking your mind?
Ryan: It has yet to backfire in any major way, so far so good I guess! There can be times when truly opening up on stage can leave me feeling pretty fucking exposed and vulnerable, but I haven't regretted any of it. I think that understanding where I'm coming from personally or on the topics of our lyrics is an essential part of understanding our band. It has helped me so much to be able to express myself and get these things off my chest, and I take solace in the fact that I know I'm not alone. I'm not saying that every person in an audience can relate to what I say, but I do know that there isn't any human condition or feeling that is unique to just one person.
So you think kids usually get it, they empathize with what you’re saying.
There are people out there who feel the same way I do, and I think that many people in the punk/hardcore scene have been drawn there for the same reasons that I have. I might be incorrect, but I think that people respect honesty and that if what I'm saying is coming from my heart, so to speak, then the audience or listener can pick up on that.
Have you gotten flak?
There have been a couple of occasions when I've seen some internet bashing of what I have said onstage or someone making some vague claim about the sincerity of what I say. But it's been rare and no one has ever spoken to me personally, so – while it certainly hurt my feelings - I didn't worry about it too much. The wonderful moments when people talk to me about how they connect with the songs and relate to what I've said have far outweighed any negative reactions. I've had some of the most amazing interactions with people regarding Coliseum and I really cherish those moments. By the way, I'm also far more open on stage than I am off stage. The anonymity of not speaking directly to one person and having a forum where you're talking and people generally aren't interacting with you, makes it much easier to spill my guts, so to speak. It's usually very, very hard for me to open up to people on a personal one on one level. That's why Coliseum has become so essential for me.
In the past during sets you've stated that you were sick of people preaching, on the right and the left. But are you contradicting yourself by saying some of what you say during shows? How should someone get their message out there and their point across?
Ryan: I am tired of the constant back and forth of mainstream politics and the battle or the right vs. left media. It wears me down. But am I preaching for the left? Man, I hope not. I am certainly aligned with leftist ideals and politics, but I hope that I can remain objective enough to see through the façade of even the most famous liberals. I guess I feel like everyone in the media and those in positions of authority spend their time telling the 'common people' how to think; the newspapers, the TV, the church, the legislators, even the left leaning documentarians and talk radio hosts. I want to be presented with facts and ideas and form my own opinions, but at this time, you're given nothing but half-truths and biased information, media manipulation is at its all time high the era of "W" and 9/11. Man, I really, really hope that onstage I'm not telling people how to think... I'm just giving my side of things, my reaction to the world around me. I have no answers, I have no particularly correct or overly informed insight, I'm just doing what I can to make it through this life and hopefully have some affect that I feel is positive. I'm not above contradictions in any way, I'm sure I've contradicted myself thousands of times on stage and off, that's just how it goes. I do my best to stick by what I say and what I believe, but I'm evolving and learning with every day, so things may change and I welcome those changes. That's part of what makes life exciting and inspiring.
So contrary to Michael Moore or whomever, is there a right way to express political viewpoints, to maybe change peoples’ minds politically?
I don't know the perfect or even ideal way to get a point across, I do it my way and do my best with it... I couldn't begin to have an idea of the perfect way to spread a message, and I'm not even saying that the mainstream media outlets shouldn't infect their every move and statement with their own special brand of bullshit, I'm just saying that I'm fucking sick of it.
Talk to me about the "hostage of privilege"?
The hostage of privilege is me. Actually, not just me, but also my friends, my peers, a lot of the people around me... My desire though all the lyrics with Coliseum was to do my best to never point my finger at someone else or place blame anywhere but myself. "Hostage of Privilege" was written at a time when some of my closest friends and I all seemed to be constantly bemoaning our lives, or at least certain aspects of our lives. Feeling depressed and lonely, but then realizing that we had everything we could possibly hope for within our grasp. That our lives were so unbelievably easy and we had things in our lives that people all over this earth would kill for; safe homes, reasonable amounts of money, wonderful families, food, shelter, etc. So, I realized at some point during my darkest moments, that I was feeling absolutely terrible because of one thing, while I had everything else I could ever want or dream. I'm a person that grew up in a middle class family, with parents who provided everything I needed. As an adult I've been lucky enough to have jobs that pay me enough to get by and are part of either independent businesses or entirely DIY. I'm able to be in bands and tour and put out records. I have so much in my life to appreciate yet I was taking it all for granted. I was, and still am at times, held hostage by my own privilege. The line "asshole, I know your deal, I've watched you writhe my whole life" is about me, a finger pointed at myself in the mirror. It's about appreciating what you have.
I might be inventing this out of thin air, but I believe that you've said in the past that you didn't want Coliseum to immediately jump into or be associated with the D-beat scene. Why not? And why affiliate yourself with the decidedly non-D-beat Level Plane Records?
Ryan: It's not that we don't want to be associated with the D-beat scene if there is such a thing, it's just that we're not claiming to be anything we're not. If we popped up and said, "Hey, we're a new band along the lines of Inepsy and Wolfbrigade and we are like those bands and we want to be aligned with those bands" that would be false, because we don't know those bands and that's not the scene that we come from. To be honest, as individuals, Coliseum comes from no scene at all... Some of us grew up as punk kids or hardcore kids or metal kids or whatever. I have been a part of the hardcore/punk scene for over half my life, and certainly as a band we consider ourselves part of that scene. But jumping into some subsect or particular other label is not of any interest to us.
Like calling yourselves "crust" or "screamo" or "metal."
I don't really care about labels like "screamo" or "crust" or whatever, I never really have. I honestly didn't know that Level Plane was seen as being associated with some kind of "screamo" scene or that there even was a scene of "d-beat" bands. I wanted to start a fast, heavy punk metal band. Our influences come from all over the place. It would be dishonest of me to pretend to be something I'm not - like some kind of OG d-beat crust punk dude. We are who we are, so we're not trying to jump on to anyone else's coattails or scene. I love a lot of d-beat bands, but that's not all I'm about or all Coliseum is about.
As is quite evident with your new EP, you really take religion, particularly Christianity to task. Do you worry about offending or alienating fans or potential fans?
Ryan: Actually, despite the title "Goddamage" and the song "Theme," which was originally titled "Theme For Goddamage," none of the other songs are about Christianity specifically. "Year Of The Pig" mentions it a bit but the song as a whole is about looking back on a specific year and taking it all in. "Born To Hang" is about religion in an abstract way, but those aren't my lyrics, they were written by Chris from Lords. Goddamage wasn't intended to be a eight song deconstruction of Christianity, it's just a title that we thought was cool - it's offensive to some, funny to others, and could have multiple meanings. If the title "Goddamage" offends anyone, then they're taking themselves way too seriously. But, when it all comes down to it, am I afraid of scaring off people who may disagree with our stances and statements? No fucking way. No one has to listen who doesn't want to and I'm not telling anyone what to do with their life... I'm just expressing my ideas and thoughts and feelings, so if by saying in a song that I'm sick and fucking tired of having a certain religious right shove their agenda down my throat certain people are turned off to our band, then so be it. Good riddance.
Ryan Patterson is a big man, with a big plan and a big voice. Through Coliseum, he’s already brought his message and his mission across the U.S. New EP Goddamage on Manic Ride Records takes everything the band did on last year’s debut full-length, and magnifies it. The beats are faster, the playing more precise and Patterson’s vocals leaner and meaner. Feast your ears on healthy helpings of such weighty cuts as “Year of the Pig” and the soon-to-be classic “Dehumanize” (not the Void song ‘Dehumanized’). I spoke with Ryan at length, because, well, Ryan can only speak at length. He’s a modern day sage, spinning cagey tales and declarations that reverberate for days. Despite the grisly bear live beast Ryan becomes, he’s among the more personable guys you’ll meet. And he’s perennially amped on music and constantly inspired to be punk. Indeed, quite rare in this late stage in the decadence of DIY punk hardcore or what have you.
When you started Coliseum, did you intend it to be your outlet, as opposed to your role in the other bands you were in at the time?
Ryan: Yeah, certainly having a podium of some sort from which to stand and vent my thoughts or feelings, either through lyrics or via speaking on stage, was a large part of my desire to put this band together. It's not the only reason by any means - I also wanted to start a fast heavy punk metal kind of band and tour a lot more than I ever had before. I'm not sure if every non-singing member of any band feels this way too, but for a number of years I was having a great time playing guitar in bands, but felt that my voice wasn't being heard. So, when Black Cross started back in 2001 we made a conscious decision to have not only Rob, the singer, talk on stage, but hopefully have it be more of an open forum for all the members to at least say something from the stage, as well as have to agree on the topics of the lyrics on at least a base level.
But if Rob’s the singer, he has the focus, the main voice.
Admittedly, it ended up being mostly Rob talking, with me adding in by talking on stage a little and all of us discussing the lyrics with him. I felt fairly content with Black Cross, honestly. I was able to say what I wanted to say to a certain extent and felt that the ideas the band conveyed were great. But, more and more I had a burning desire to be the frontman / lyricist of a band again, which I hadn't done since the mid 90s, in bands that weren't very good and never really accomplished anything. That need or desire was somewhat coupled with one of the most intense and confusing times of disillusionment in my life since my late teens. When it finally became apparent that Black Cross would not ever be a full time touring band, I decided to try and start this new band that been an idea brewing in my head for many years. Writing lyrics for the first time in so many years was really scary... But I tried my best to filter through my thoughts and get right to the point. So yeah, it's certainly a pretty thorough outlet for me with music and ideas.
At shows you've spoken candidly about personal issues, as well as politics. Do you ever regret opening up and just speaking your mind?
Ryan: It has yet to backfire in any major way, so far so good I guess! There can be times when truly opening up on stage can leave me feeling pretty fucking exposed and vulnerable, but I haven't regretted any of it. I think that understanding where I'm coming from personally or on the topics of our lyrics is an essential part of understanding our band. It has helped me so much to be able to express myself and get these things off my chest, and I take solace in the fact that I know I'm not alone. I'm not saying that every person in an audience can relate to what I say, but I do know that there isn't any human condition or feeling that is unique to just one person.
So you think kids usually get it, they empathize with what you’re saying.
There are people out there who feel the same way I do, and I think that many people in the punk/hardcore scene have been drawn there for the same reasons that I have. I might be incorrect, but I think that people respect honesty and that if what I'm saying is coming from my heart, so to speak, then the audience or listener can pick up on that.
Have you gotten flak?
There have been a couple of occasions when I've seen some internet bashing of what I have said onstage or someone making some vague claim about the sincerity of what I say. But it's been rare and no one has ever spoken to me personally, so – while it certainly hurt my feelings - I didn't worry about it too much. The wonderful moments when people talk to me about how they connect with the songs and relate to what I've said have far outweighed any negative reactions. I've had some of the most amazing interactions with people regarding Coliseum and I really cherish those moments. By the way, I'm also far more open on stage than I am off stage. The anonymity of not speaking directly to one person and having a forum where you're talking and people generally aren't interacting with you, makes it much easier to spill my guts, so to speak. It's usually very, very hard for me to open up to people on a personal one on one level. That's why Coliseum has become so essential for me.
In the past during sets you've stated that you were sick of people preaching, on the right and the left. But are you contradicting yourself by saying some of what you say during shows? How should someone get their message out there and their point across?
Ryan: I am tired of the constant back and forth of mainstream politics and the battle or the right vs. left media. It wears me down. But am I preaching for the left? Man, I hope not. I am certainly aligned with leftist ideals and politics, but I hope that I can remain objective enough to see through the façade of even the most famous liberals. I guess I feel like everyone in the media and those in positions of authority spend their time telling the 'common people' how to think; the newspapers, the TV, the church, the legislators, even the left leaning documentarians and talk radio hosts. I want to be presented with facts and ideas and form my own opinions, but at this time, you're given nothing but half-truths and biased information, media manipulation is at its all time high the era of "W" and 9/11. Man, I really, really hope that onstage I'm not telling people how to think... I'm just giving my side of things, my reaction to the world around me. I have no answers, I have no particularly correct or overly informed insight, I'm just doing what I can to make it through this life and hopefully have some affect that I feel is positive. I'm not above contradictions in any way, I'm sure I've contradicted myself thousands of times on stage and off, that's just how it goes. I do my best to stick by what I say and what I believe, but I'm evolving and learning with every day, so things may change and I welcome those changes. That's part of what makes life exciting and inspiring.
So contrary to Michael Moore or whomever, is there a right way to express political viewpoints, to maybe change peoples’ minds politically?
I don't know the perfect or even ideal way to get a point across, I do it my way and do my best with it... I couldn't begin to have an idea of the perfect way to spread a message, and I'm not even saying that the mainstream media outlets shouldn't infect their every move and statement with their own special brand of bullshit, I'm just saying that I'm fucking sick of it.
Talk to me about the "hostage of privilege"?
The hostage of privilege is me. Actually, not just me, but also my friends, my peers, a lot of the people around me... My desire though all the lyrics with Coliseum was to do my best to never point my finger at someone else or place blame anywhere but myself. "Hostage of Privilege" was written at a time when some of my closest friends and I all seemed to be constantly bemoaning our lives, or at least certain aspects of our lives. Feeling depressed and lonely, but then realizing that we had everything we could possibly hope for within our grasp. That our lives were so unbelievably easy and we had things in our lives that people all over this earth would kill for; safe homes, reasonable amounts of money, wonderful families, food, shelter, etc. So, I realized at some point during my darkest moments, that I was feeling absolutely terrible because of one thing, while I had everything else I could ever want or dream. I'm a person that grew up in a middle class family, with parents who provided everything I needed. As an adult I've been lucky enough to have jobs that pay me enough to get by and are part of either independent businesses or entirely DIY. I'm able to be in bands and tour and put out records. I have so much in my life to appreciate yet I was taking it all for granted. I was, and still am at times, held hostage by my own privilege. The line "asshole, I know your deal, I've watched you writhe my whole life" is about me, a finger pointed at myself in the mirror. It's about appreciating what you have.
I might be inventing this out of thin air, but I believe that you've said in the past that you didn't want Coliseum to immediately jump into or be associated with the D-beat scene. Why not? And why affiliate yourself with the decidedly non-D-beat Level Plane Records?
Ryan: It's not that we don't want to be associated with the D-beat scene if there is such a thing, it's just that we're not claiming to be anything we're not. If we popped up and said, "Hey, we're a new band along the lines of Inepsy and Wolfbrigade and we are like those bands and we want to be aligned with those bands" that would be false, because we don't know those bands and that's not the scene that we come from. To be honest, as individuals, Coliseum comes from no scene at all... Some of us grew up as punk kids or hardcore kids or metal kids or whatever. I have been a part of the hardcore/punk scene for over half my life, and certainly as a band we consider ourselves part of that scene. But jumping into some subsect or particular other label is not of any interest to us.
Like calling yourselves "crust" or "screamo" or "metal."
I don't really care about labels like "screamo" or "crust" or whatever, I never really have. I honestly didn't know that Level Plane was seen as being associated with some kind of "screamo" scene or that there even was a scene of "d-beat" bands. I wanted to start a fast, heavy punk metal band. Our influences come from all over the place. It would be dishonest of me to pretend to be something I'm not - like some kind of OG d-beat crust punk dude. We are who we are, so we're not trying to jump on to anyone else's coattails or scene. I love a lot of d-beat bands, but that's not all I'm about or all Coliseum is about.
As is quite evident with your new EP, you really take religion, particularly Christianity to task. Do you worry about offending or alienating fans or potential fans?
Ryan: Actually, despite the title "Goddamage" and the song "Theme," which was originally titled "Theme For Goddamage," none of the other songs are about Christianity specifically. "Year Of The Pig" mentions it a bit but the song as a whole is about looking back on a specific year and taking it all in. "Born To Hang" is about religion in an abstract way, but those aren't my lyrics, they were written by Chris from Lords. Goddamage wasn't intended to be a eight song deconstruction of Christianity, it's just a title that we thought was cool - it's offensive to some, funny to others, and could have multiple meanings. If the title "Goddamage" offends anyone, then they're taking themselves way too seriously. But, when it all comes down to it, am I afraid of scaring off people who may disagree with our stances and statements? No fucking way. No one has to listen who doesn't want to and I'm not telling anyone what to do with their life... I'm just expressing my ideas and thoughts and feelings, so if by saying in a song that I'm sick and fucking tired of having a certain religious right shove their agenda down my throat certain people are turned off to our band, then so be it. Good riddance.
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