Gainesville’s version of The Beatles? The Band I refused to count as a local band

“If you didn’t get tickets by now, you’re obviously not going to see Against Me (AKA The Fab Four).” — said to me by a fan in a condescending manner. She did not say the stuff in parenthesis, I just inferred it. In other words, put the words in her mouth.

This manic energy everywhere. Although the band plays their souls out, it is more entertaining to watch the energy pour forth from the audience. I think the band would deflate like blow-up dolls if it was not for the audience. They hardly stand up on their own, their mouths open in large O’s behind the microphones.

Against Me attracts a loyalty I cannot fully understand; like this scaled down version of Beatlemania complete with manic girls screaming to the point where you cannot even hear the music. Well, you can hear the music. With today’s technology and the fact that the band is fucking loud (it comes with the responsibilities of being a punk band), Against Me can be heard no matter how loud the audience belts along to the chorus.

The band is and always has been this awkward hodge-podge of punk, country (the cool kids call it folk-punk), rock and cheesy ballads. Not so much a melding of these genres, but a roughly mixed mess under the banner of punk. Their music is full of cliches that they fully embrace.

When they do happen to break boundaries, fans are alienated. They now face the same problem every other major band in the history of rock has come across: selling out. Did Nirvana sell out with “Never Mind”? How about that damn Green Day album “Dookie”? Bands like Staind selling out before they even technically sold out; putting integrity as musicians on the back burner in hunt of the mighty dollar.

I like the Wayne’s World throwback answer they give in a video response available on YouTube.

At least Against Me resisted “selling out” and had fun in the process, wining and dining with big-whig record executives that would foot the bill for their alcoholic tendencies (this has been recorded on one of their documentaries and is quite entertaining).

To know a band, you must know their roots.

Against Me never shied away from singing over-the-top corny ballads, but it has always been “okay” since the songs were in the name of folk punk: growls and an occasional f-bomb showed up every once in a while to tinge the sweetness of the song.

Tom Gabel’s vocals are interesting in how they weave in and out with the otherwise basic music. The phrasing of his lyrics I find much more powerful than anything else in his songs, including the words. It is the one constant in Against Me’s evolving music.

The band has long interested and intrigued me. I went to their sold out show at Common Grounds last year on a whim. Some acquaintance who had bought tickets could not make it and I snagged them.

The memories: I remember a roommate pulling me and pushing me in the mob as he throated along to his favorite songs. I awkwardly, bewildering and clumsily stepped along and mumbled along to the chorus which I had yet to figure out in the course of its repetition.

I talked to multiple people who complained before the show about the band selling out and then rushed inside to the sold out show. Maybe the fans have sold out. Again, what is selling out?

It brings me to another point: that everyone is a fan and always has been a fan of Against Me. Even Tom Gabel recognizes this pattern.

“No one liked us at first, and now there’s all these people saying “I’ve loved you since (Vivida Vis).” “No, you didn’t. No one liked us when (Vivida Vis) was around. I was there at the shows. There were ten people there, what are you talking about? I know you weren’t there” (Interview from Racket Magazine).

Early songs by the band, although authentic, sound cheesy and half-inspired. Tracks like “Baby I’m an Anarchist” are among the overwrought in the bunch. Gabel is trying so hard to sound on the edge and political. Buzz words like Nixon, Bush and Stalin all make it into the first verse of the song, strung together by overused phrases that are meant to sound badass. Am I missing the irony? Maybe he is not taking himself seriously, but too many fans are doing that for him; crying the words out like holy bible verses stitched on their arms. Something about the song still compels me too. And that is the problem.

Later songs like “Miami” are fun, but looked at too deeply, have the same weakness. It is like a surprisingly growly teenager trying to gain punk rock credentials by boosting his hard-coreness. I am a sucker for call and response though, “Just like Miami…”

“Miami!”

I think the Against Me of today has a unique sound overall in comparison to their folk-punk roots. Gabel’s voice is carrying less of the music. However, with this new sound they seem to have lost some of their soul; that spark of passion that polished over any rough patches and inconsistencies that an expensive studio could never mimic.

Even the drummer Warren Oakes, spread his repertoire to one or two more drum beats.

“Thrash Unreal” humorously mixes the corny “ba, ba bas” to the line “no mother ever dreamed that her daughter would grow up to be a junkie.” An odd mixture that sometimes works, depending on what day I listen to it.

What never works is the band trying to make the line “protest songs, in response to military aggression” into a catchy sing-a-long hook. The dead-pan, exaggerated corniness in “White People for Peace” has been pushed too far.

Much of what I have written here could be considered blasphemy in Gainesville, the Mecca of Against Me. This is the place where they started, recorded and gained a cult following. This is their town. This is their soil.

A side note: I recorded with Goldentone Studios (where Against Me first recorded their demos and EPs) and I still think Rob McGregor cannot record drums worth crap. There I said it. If you do not believe me, listen to anything done by him (including early Against Me).

And before I get in trouble, I still think he is a fine man, an outstanding citizen and pretty damn good at recording everything else.

Mostly, Against Me gives me hope. Hope that someday, I will find my way and make it big in the music business. It is such wishful thinking, but the band gives me that thread to hold onto. They are so damn close to home.

It is crazy to imagine that Gabel was playing on these same streets, seeing the same sounds and treading on the same ground. After watching documentary footage of early Against Me concerts — There is definitely hope for me and my small ideas to get somewhere.

The band has a legacy here that everyone wants to follow. People feel like a part of the band because they watched Against Me grow with their own eyes (or think they watched Against Me grow with their own eyes — the band has this strut about them that makes you think you knew them back when they were teenage, snot-nosed punks even though you grew up in Michigan or something). Combine that with catchy hooks in songs like “Don’t Lose Touch” and the band has got itself a relentlessly loyal fanbase that will hold on for dear life even if Against Me ditched their instruments and started a barber shop quartet.

“We were carried by the wheels of the Armageddon.”

I do not know what Gabel quite means by this, I hear it was the name of their touring van, but it sounds badass and a nice way to to end this blog post, right? The Armageddon is the end. And appropriately, it is getting time for this to be

the end.

R. Kelly is Still Funny

“…a midget (midget, midget)”.

I used to know a stoner who could sing every verse to “Trapped in the Closet.” His jam band covered R. Kelly in bars and clubs all over Gainesville. The most hilarious aspect was the way he sang the song in this smooth, Jack Johnson voice.

I am always hesitant to refer to someone as a stoner as many people seem to take offense to it. They will call themselves stoners constantly, but I guess the title is off limits to me.

Just as I cannot refer to my black friend as “my nigga” — I cannot refer to a habitual marijuana smoker as “a stoner”.

But he was a stoner.

I believe stoners can appreciate music on a level that I will never comprehend. Neverless, I do enjoy some good stoner music and I think R. Kelly can fit the bill to certain people on certain occasions.

The man continues to top himself in hilarity. One semi-recent example is “Speedin’,” a Rick Ross song that Kelly is featured on. Kelly sings the chorus hook:

“Speedin’, I’m Speedin’. I can’t stop, it’s all I know. From a youngin’ I was taught get dough“

The music video leaves my sides sore with laughter. I picture Rick Ross and R. Kelly in front of a green screen making all their funny poses, crossing arms and nodding their heads. It is quite the height of ridiculousness.

Another notable song is “Same Girl” with Usher. It is a blast from the past. This song showcases R. Kelly’s mastery of conversational R&B bullshitting that is so prevalent in “Trapped in the Closet” and “Real Talk”.

Of course, “Trapped in The Closet” is the pinnacle of R. Kelly’s success and style. The Beat sounds like a timpani with the timpani player filling silence by flicking the side of his cheek and making the water droplet sound that was so popular to make in public school. This “Hip-hopera” series has a special place in my heart. I could watch the over-the-top drama thousands of times and never tire.

“Real Talk” took “Trapped in the Closet” and made it creepier. Is he repeating the phrase “real talk” over and over to the recipient on the other end of the phone line? I say yes. Whatever makes the song funnier.

Not all songs are enjoyed purely because of their comedy though. There are songs that I enjoy for reasons other than their ridiculousness.

I swear.

Guilty pleasures include the “Space Jam” hit “I believe I can Fly” and also “If I Could Turn Back The Hands Of Time.” I think R. Kelly can be heartfelt and straight.

Allegedly, he can also sodomize 14-year-old girls and video tape the act.

Spouting About Local Bands That Come To Mind

No inspiration has reared its head lately; at least no music topic worthy of this blog.

Of course there has been music. It floats around me constantly from grocery store aisles and from under my fingers.

Maybe “plenty of inspiration but no aspiration” is a more accurate description.

All focus has been inward and locally.

So, on that vein, here is a synopsis of some local Gainesville musicians that command some attention.

On a side note: I do not count bands like Against Me and Tom Petty. They have roots here, but they left this sunken swamp long ago for brighter stars.

The bands listed here are still here — doing their best in this hick, college town to belong. They are the ones you find placing giddy, nervous faith at open mic nights and hustling friends to watch them at the Atlantic. They are the ones who gave up long ago on making it big (only to the public, there is still a sliver of hope in the most down-trodden souls) and continue rocking in Gainesville just as they did in 1999.

Tonight, I plan to make an appearance at Lillians Music Store for an open mic night. A new, fresh and seemingly disjointed band called Bandits will be playing there. One member of the band lives in St. Petersburg and the other two are a couple, made official on Facebook, who attend UF.

Their vocal-harmonies are smooth and guitars, repeating traps of chilling melodies. Their influences include Iron and Wine and Sufjan Stevens; the outcome of this being folk lullabies of the college variety. With a little more production and some extra textures, they could easily overthrow other minimalistic-indie bands and crown themselves kings of the genre. This is fairly presumptuous, considering the band just made their MySpace page February 29 and are making one of their first live debuts tonight.

An update: After watching them live, I am not disappointed. The folk part of their self-labeled “folk-indie” band, is more pronounced with the addition of a banjo and less recording equipment between receivers. Covers were chosen well and complemented their style. The three distinct voices in the band blended beautifully and made for lush harmonies.

It was a relaxing evening. I could not get a roommate to tag along and so I went alone. I decided to bike rather than find parking. I arrived earlier than expected and wandered around downtown Gainesville waiting for them to play. Saw many sights and overheard many conversations.

While Bandits played their folk music, a club next door poured out animated party people; predominately blacks who commented on the Bandit’s music with phrases like “now that is country right there.”

Before they played, I caught some of the house band. It was a trip down memory lane … here were the same people playing the same songs from one of my first shows over a year ago. It was partly the reason I went to see Bandits.

I have fond memories of playing at Lillians. Rocking out in front of a small group of 40-something-year-olds and about 3 friends who stuck around on a Monday night. There is nothing to make you more humble.

I did my awkward thing after the set. Mumbled incorrect pronunciations of “good job” to the members and then biked back home, humming one of their covers that was stuck in my head.

A band I have been reminiscing about a lot recently is The Most. They broke up sometime early this year, but their quirky, rock-opera performances left a lasting impression on me. Perhaps, listing the Most goes against my earlier assertions about what makes a Gainesville band, but they just split up less than a month ago and it seems like even less than that since the band was furtively making the rounds at music venues.

One of the last blogs on their MySpace sums it up eloquently:

“As far as The Most is concerned, I thought we could go all the way, and in a way, we did. If ‘all the way’ means playing with Just A Scientist at the Rion Ballroom at a show no one knows about, while random people jump onstage and make us feel awkward. In that case we made it big time.”

I was at that show. It was indeed awkward. A small man with orangutan arms and a larger man with hair down to his back jumped onstage and danced ‘the robot’ for a good 15 minutes. They proceeded to bum-rush the microphone after the show and confess their love and admiration for The Most. The band tended to attract a strange cult. During the same show, a smelly, weasel man high-kicked around the audience, holding out a clipboard for a mailing list. The Weasel was a regular at the shows. You could often find him dancing to The Most as if it were an aerobics class, sweat dripping, pumping his arms to the beat. All he was missing was a step-stool and mat.

They were a band that made you feel like you were at a bigger venue than you were. They turned that small bar into a stadium. They oozed bloated egos. The singer belted like a Broadway singer and reached out toward the sky at the faraway dreams of stardom that he never got. They had it all, but they never got their just reward: validation.

One last band to mention before retiring is: Oh Sanders. I am not a rabid fan of their indie-pop sound, but “The State of Disorder” is one of the catchiest songs I have ever heard. Most particularly, the guitar/glockenspiel hook is infectious.

More than good musicians, they are excellent networkers. It is an incestuous, mother-son, gooey mess in the Gainesville music scene and they are the forefront in this melting pot.

“The singer is also in another band as a keyboardist…They are big fans of another band who always come to their shows… who are on the same small label as this other band… They play often with this funky Artic Monkey-esque band. They have an ambitious singer who is also the drummer in another band who employs a guitarist who is in two or three bands…”

Oh Sanders is pop without embarrassment. It is only natural for them to throw in funny keyboard sounds and danceable swooping high-hats. Stella Leung’s voice borders on good and bad, tolerable and interesting. Her subject matter is indie-poppish (if ever a terrible word existed) and funny at times.

I have quite a few more Gainesville bands to go through, but this post is running over 1,000 words and therefore should taper off. I will finish this list some other time in a “local bands: part two” or something.