Koffin Kats: Inspired by Beavis and Butt-Head

Vic Victor can trace his rockabilly roots back to the most enlightened intellectuals of the '90s: Beavis and Butt-Head.

He was watching the show when he saw the video for Reverend Horton Heat's 'Psychobilly Freakout.' "I thought it was just really cool," Victor recalls. "The video was weird and the guy played a big violin."

When Victor picked up the Reverend Horton Heat album at the record store, "It changed everything for me," he says. "I started getting into the 'billy culture and the hot rod culture. I started cuffing my pants and slicking my hair back."

That rockabilly/psychobilly culture became the backdrop for his band the Koffin Kats, where he sings and plays upright bass. But it wasn't the only inspiration.

"Once I started writing my own music and had my own band, I found my own way. I realized that lifestyle wasn't totally for me because I didn't fully believe in rockabilly. It was just another form of music. I didn't want to dedicate myself to one specific form of music."

"Ever since I've been a musician?--and just a fan of music--I've gone from listening to a Metallica album to a Tom Waits album to a Stray Cats album. Dedicating myself to one style of music has never been what I'm about or what Koffin Kats is about."

The band has always tried to let those varied influences come to the surface of their music. "I never want to put out the same album twice," Victor says. "And within the album, there's always something that the 'billy side, the punk side or the metal side, can dig. We play music that's all across the board. We're basically just a mutation of all the music we like, all put together--stylistically and musically."

Koffin Kats are also known to throw in a surprise or two, like on their new track "The Devil Asked," which is more Black Sabbath than Tiger Army. "It's cool that we've been able to make straight-forward, rockin' records, but it's also cool to be able to include some songs that people wouldn't expect from us," Victor says of the song. "It's going to be one that people either love, hate or just don't get."

"If someone has been a fan of our discography, they'll realize we've done stuff like this on other albums where something comes out of left field. It breaks up the monotony of the record. I don't want to write something where 30 minutes later, you think you'd been listening to the same song over and over."

As the band's sound has evolved, Victor's lyrics have also matured. "As I've gotten older, I've put away writing the off-the-wall science fiction lyrics of the first few records," he says. "I wanted to write songs about situations I've been in or or situations where people can just say 'I've been there.'"

The lyrical turning point came after Victor penned "At the Bar," a song about a fictional character wasting his life at the bar and watching relationships fail. "I've had so many people come up to me and say 'Man, I've been there,'" Victor says. "It's rewarding to hear people say that they can relate to something that you wrote. I don't consider myself to be any better than the next person, but to have someone say that they appreciate that you write really pushes you in a new direction."

Now Victor writes about what he knows best, and the band's new record, "Our Way & The Highway," is drenched in alcohol (see "It Happens Every Night," "The Bottle Called," "Booozincrossanation," among others).

The band's show in Salt Lake, however, will be slightly less, er, spirited.

"We're playing an all-ages show, so the booze won't be flying around [like usual], but we definitely try to make every show as much as a party as we can," Victor adds. "We want to have a good time and want to give [the fans] every bit of their dollar's worth."

Check out - At The Bar (YouTube)

The Kooks Get Digital

 

Though they didn't form their band until the mid-2000s, The Kooks' brilliant debut, "Inside In/Inside Out" felt like it was released in the 1960s. The British four piece proudly wore their love of bands like The Kinks and The Rolling Stones on their sleeve as they created an infectious collection of tried-and-true rock 'n' roll songs.

After releasing a formidable follow up in 2008 ["Konk"], the band decided it was time for something different. For inspiration, they turned from their old-time favorites to modern artists like LCD Soundsystem and Lykke Li. The result is "Junk of the Heart," a new album The Kooks couldn't be more proud of.

Guitarist Hugh Harris took a few minutes to talk about the band's entrance into the 21st Century.

After two albums that pull so heavily from another time period, what made you decide to change directions for "Junk of the Heart?"

We're purist. And we were quite snobbish in the past toward computerized music and things that weren't analog. But we realized you can't really go through life like that. We wanted to expand and see what else is out there. We found that synthesizers can be warm and fuzzy and beautiful and distorted as much as the sounds that we love that come out of amplifiers. Through that process, we opened up our minds.  

This isn't what I'd call a "guitar record." As a guitar player, how do you feel about that?

We've had our guitar record. I love playing guitar but there is only so much you can do with it. It's an instrument that has been played. It's had it's day. I've really been getting into writing on the viola and writing string arrangements. I'm not saying indie music or guitar music is dead, but to us, we don't want to be regurgitating the same sound over and over again. Bands who are on their fourth or fifth album and still playing the same sound look so bored on stage. I don't want us to become that band.

After recording a studio album, what has been like trying to figure how to recreate it live?

It's been absolute hell. I got quite possessive over parts that I'd done [in the studio] and said, "I'd quite like to play that part." But then you realize that you don't have enough hands to play all the parts. The live shows are so much different now. They have elements of punk rock, like our old shows, but they seem much richer and much fuller with these new sonics. It feels great.

Have the long-time fans had any trouble with the sonic shift? 

No. Because the change hasn't felt drastic or contrived. At the heart of the writing is still the same ethic. It's about pop songs and an uplifting melody. The most fascinating thing about pop music is that it's totally genre-less. That's why we feel more like a pop band, because we can morph so many more genres.

How has this record affected what the band will do in the future?

I like that we paved the way to use processed beats -- real dance beats that make you want to move. All we've ever wanted is to make people dance. Also, the strings are something we haven't really done before and it's something we'd like to experiment with. We're not going to reinvent the wheel, but music always has to feel new and fresh. Otherwise, it goes stale so quickly.

Check out: See the World [YouTube]

Lemonheads Revisit 'It's a Shame About Ray'

The Lemonheads
With the Shining Twins
Tuesday, Oct. 25, at 9 p.m.
Urban Lounge

If you’re too young to remember the early ’90s, here’s a quick history lesson: There were a bunch of scruffy dudes in Seattle who took Black Sabbath’s big riffs and added a few extra layers of fuzz and feedback. They wore Doc Martens and screamed a lot and the media found a catchy little title to describe it all: grunge.

But before, during and after grunge there was a band called The Lemonheads. In the late ’80s, the three-piece act from Boston was basically a punk band, in the vein of The Replacements or Hüsker Dü. While bands all around them started playing heavier music, the Lemonheads got softer.

In 1992, the band released “It’s a Shame About Ray,” an album of upbeat pop songs that stood in stark contrast to the teenage angst of the time.

Frontman (and the only constant band member) Evan Dando found a way to fit the world into songs that rarely made it past the two-minute mark. There were bouncy rockers, soft-hearted ballads and flirtations with country music. With the addition of a ramped up version of Simon and Garfunkel’s “Mrs. Robinson,” the album was the perfect package.

“It’s a Shame About Ray” should have been the start of big things for The Lemonheads. But it never happened. The Lemonheads released two solid post-“Ray” albums, but Dando’s descent into drug abuse became a distraction and led to the undoing of the band.

Fortunately, it wasn’t the end of Dando. After a long hiatus, he released an endearing solo album in 2003 before reviving The Lemonheads name for a self-titled record in 2006 and a covers album in 2009.

Nearly two decades later, things have come full circle. Dando is back on the road, performing “Ray” in its entirety. The tour may be a throwback to another era, yet the songs sound just as good as they did during the height of flannel and goatees.

Let’s hear it for second chances.

Weezer v. Kermit the Frog

It didn't surprise me at all to see Weezer contributing a song to the upcoming Muppets movie soundtrack--it is called "The Green Album," after all.

I didn't, however, expect to see Alkaline Trio on the track list. Alas, the band who is usually inspired by death (and sometimes thinks I'm their stripper), offers up "Movin' Right Along." I was a little less surprised when I realized bassist Dan Andriano was doing the singing. He's always been a softy. He also has a new solo record out. It's pretty good. You can hear a couple of the songs on his Facebook page.

NPR is streaming the Green Album here.

A Boy Named Goo

Have I ever revealed that I'm a closet Goo Goo Dolls fan? Well, now it's out there.

I interviewed Goo Goo bassist Robby Takac in advance of their show in Park City...

Long before the name Goo Goo Dolls was permanently attached to the phrase "platinum-selling artists," the threesome was just another bar band in chilly Buffalo, New York. That all changed, however, thanks to a slew of massive hits in the mid-'90s and early 2000s, including "Name," "Slide," and "Here is Gone."
As the band nears it 25-year anniversary, bassist and founding member Robby Takac wonders where all the time has gone.

"It doesn't seem real," he says of the milestone, from a tour stop in Connecticut. "It's amazing how fast 25 years flies by." Though much of the past quarter-century has felt like a whirlwind, he still remembers the changes brought on by the band's breakthrough hit in 1995.

"After 10 years of driving around in a van, trying to convince every kid in town to come check out your band, [having "Name" on the radio] was huge." Unfortunately, the first thing he did with his newfound fame and fortune wasn't all that glamorous.

"I paid off my studio loans," he says with a laugh. "Those bill collectors were starting to get after me."
"Name" would be only the beginning of the band's reign of mainstream rock radio. Since that time, the Goo Goo Dolls have amassed 14 top-10 singles. Ruling the airwaves, however, does have some disadvantages.

He does have advice for young bands, however. "I hope the thing people take away from playing or touring with us is the idea that you've gotta work to make this happen. You can't stop doing the things that help make the connection with your fans -- reaching out, making people feel a part of what you're doing when you're on stage. Those fans are the ones that are going to make it possible for you to do this thing you love. You can't become so important that it's all about you. It's not about you. It's about everyone."

After 25 years, thousands of shows, and millions of records, there's no doubt the Goo Goo Dolls know a thing or two about keeping fans happy.

The Rock 'n Roll Photo Pass: Demystified

Two feet away from CAKE's John McCrea

One of the perks of being a barely-paid music critic is that I get to go to a lot of shows for free. When I work with a band's publicist on a concert preview, they usually ask if I want to be on "the list" for the show. When people think of the list, they immediately imagine Wayne and Garth hanging out backstage with Alice Cooper.

Alas, nay. (Though I did get to hang out on Streetlight Manifesto's bus once. Coolest. Experience. Ever.)

It just means that I show up at the venue and say to the ticket person or whoever, "I'm on the list." They find my name -  on an actual list - and let me in without paying. While this sounds great, about every fourth time, my name hasn't really made it to the list, which results in no small amount of awkwardness, especially if I've brought a friend with me.

Sometimes I'm also offered a photo pass. If asked in advance, I say I don't need one. The reason is two fold:

1. I just have a crappy little point-and-shoot camera and I'd feel dumb standing up on the stage taking photos with it. 
2. I have no idea what such a pass entitles me to. Do I go on stage? Do I poke around in front of the band? Do I hold my pass up (again, a la Wayne's World) and work my way to the front of the crowd?

 So when I'm given a press pass at the door, I just stick it on my shirt (to look cool) and do nothing with it.

At the CAKE show a few weeks back, I was handed a pass. I decided to finally be a man and take some pictures. I bravely walked up to a security guy standing by the stage and said, "Where can I go with this photo pass?"

He looked blankly at me and shrugged his shoulders.

Eventually, another lady come up and said, "You can take pictures at the front of the stage for the first three songs."

So I did. I stood in front of the lounging-on-the-grass crowd at Red Butte garden and pretended like I knew what I was doing. Not looking like an idiot became more difficult once I was standing next to a photographer from SLUG magazine, who did know what he was doing. But I hung in there.

For about 90 seconds.

About halfway through the first song, I had taken a dozen or so pictures, which seemed like more than enough. I went back to seat, successfully having overcome my oh-so-life-threatening fear of photo passes. I am a changed man.

One of my photos is above. The SLUG guy's pics are here. I feel like I held my own.

Weezer Get Experimental

Weezer

Oct. 7, 2008

E Center

w/ Tokyo Police Club, Angels and Airwaves

The past year has been a strange one for Weezer. The band's normally reclusive and dictatorial leader, Rivers Cuomo, not only released an album of intimate home recordings but also relinquished some of his Weezer power, allowing each of his band mates to take a shot in the lead singer role on the band's new record. And the guys have never been happier.

Weezer guitarist, (and big brother of local artist extraordinaire Leia Bell) Brian Bell, put up with Cuomo's constant chiding and a bad cell phone connection to talk about their current Troublemaker Tour.

"We're definitely the most entertaining we've ever been in our career," Bell says. "The shows are getting progressively better, so I predict by the time we hit Salt Lake we'll be in full swing."

Bell says that the quality of recent shows results from the band feeling more comfortable with each other on stage than ever before. "Everybody's taking more responsibility in the show," Bell says. "Rivers is really performing. I don't want to give away too much of the show, but it's absolutely entertaining. People that have seen our shows for years and years say this is by far the best show they've seen."

Weezer has made a conscious effort as of late to push themselves out of their comfort zone, both onstage and in the studio. The most notable change on the "The Red Album" was Bell, bassist Scott Shriner and drummer Pat Wilson each taking a turn on lead vocals.

"That's what we went for on this album—what would be thrilling for us," Bell explains. "One of the things I mentioned was I'd like to sing and even write a Weezer song for this new album and we made it happen."

Cuomo also pushed himself in the songwriting. The album's centerpiece, "The Greatest Man that Ever Lived (Variations on a Shaker Hymn)," manages to switch genres a half dozen times in just under six minutes.

"Rivers was a little bit fed up with the pop song structure and wanted to experiment," Bell says of the song. "Theme variation structure is prevalent in classical music. He came up with different versions of the melody—the theme—and later we found out that the theme was very similar to a Shaker hymn. So that's why we call it 'Variations on a Quaker hymn.'"

When it comes to long term plans for Weezer, it's just about moving forward. "To keep making records and tour [is] success enough for me," Bell says. "But I would like each record to not rehash the past. To stay in the creative moment and come up with music that wasn't there before, that's one of the most fulfilling things you could possibly do."

"Our approach has always been to try to make something groundbreaking, otherwise what's the point?" Bell says.