After the ferocious
explosion of the Jesus
Lizard on opening night, the
bands on the middle day of
last summer's Pitchfork
Music Festival had a tough
act to follow. But Toronto's
art-punk provocateurs F---ed
Up were up to the task.
As
the group tore through a
riveting set of unrelenting
yet ultra-melodic hardcore
punk, including tunes from
its stellar 2008 album "The
Chemistry of Common Life,"
bald, bearded and
beer-bellied singer Pink
Eyes, a.k.a. Damian Abraham,
spent most of the set in the
field with the fans,
standing atop the crowd
barrier or using his teeth
to tear apart any stray
beach ball tossed his way in
an ecstatic explosion of
unbridled energy.
I spoke with this unique
rock front man as he and the
band prepared for three
events in Chicago next
Saturday, Feb. 13: two shows
and an exhibition of his
drawings at the Concertina
Gallery, 2351 N. Milwaukee,
from 6 to 8:30 p.m.
Q. Though I've been
a fan of your recordings for
a while, Pitchfork was the
first time I saw you play
live. You don't hold
anything back!
A. It's
weird: I want to walk this
line and make it as honest
as possible, but I also want
to be as entertaining as
possible. Sometimes those
things go hand in hand;
sometimes they are
diametrically opposed. When
you're having a terrible
day, it's really hard to go
on stage and be as honest as
possible, because you're
having a really bad day. But
you still owe people a show
because they sacrificed
their time and money to come
see you.
When we first started
playing, I was almost
playing a character. I would
be super serious and like,
"Alright, shut up and
listen." Now I can't do
that. I am just so excited
and I get such a shock and
thrill that people are there
to see us. I want to find a
way to express that to
people watching us--I'm just
as excited as they are if
not more.
Q. I'll preface
this by noting that I'm a
guy who's built a lot like
you, which is to say the
exact opposite of the rock's
svelte and stylish lead
singers. Is it daunting for
a guy who is not a
traditional front man-type
to get up there and let it
all hang out?
A. It's
true: We are conditioned to
accept that musicians are
sent down from heaven and
cut/chiseled from marble
gods. I don't think rock and
roll has ever been that
until the advent of the
video generation. If you
look at Bill Haley, he was
no looker. Ritchie Valens,
the Big Bopper... I think
the rock 'n' roll image of
the perfect singer is kind
of working against bands. No
one stays beautiful forever.
The thing with punk is
that it's always been about
playing with conventions and
bucking them. For someone
like me, I really don't
think I have very much
musical talent at all. I've
been in bands since I
learned about punk rock, but
I do not have a lot of
skills to show for it. I
can't play guitar, and I
can't drum for the life of
me. Yet it's just one of
those things: I like that
anyone can do it. Not
everyone should do
it, but anyone can
do it. And if it gives them
joy and they have a good
time, they should keep up
with it.
Q. When we look
at the band's long
discography, it seems as if
something clicked with "The
Chemistry of Common Life,"
and suddenly a lot more
people were excited about
the group.
A. I
think for us it was a
perfect storm. There was a
tendency for a lot of people
outside of punk and outside
of hardcore to kind of
devalue the importance of
punk and hardcore, even
though it is kind of ironic
because a lot of people come
from that background. And I
think had to do with signing
to Matador. What we were
doing was suddenly available
from an acceptable source of
this information; it wasn't
us putting out a seven-inch
on some little obscure punk
label.
Q. You've just
collected a lot of the
earlier recordings on new
"Couple Tracks: Singles
2002-2009." Do you think it
holds up as an album?
A. To a
certain extent. It's funny
to look at it now, because
it's hard to separate the
events that were involved in
each of those recordings.
When I listen to "The
Chemistry of Common Life," I
picture it as a whole album
because it was recorded that
way. This one, the first
song on it is from 2002 and
the most recent is from last
year. It is all over the map
for us. It's really hard to
picture it as a complete
album, but I think what it
does do is put in
perspective how our sound
has changed. A lot of people
have criticized us for
changing our sound [to be
more melodic], but we're not
smart enough to make a
conscious decision to change
our sound! I think this
illustrates that we just
drifted that way.
Q. There always
has been a lot of melody in
your songs. I thought you
just got better at recoding
them!
A. For
us as a band, the stuff we
were looking at as reference
points definitely included
the Germs and bands like
that. But there were also
bands like Mission of Burma
and Wire--bands that strived
to be more with what they
had at their disposal and
went to the studio to do
weird things.
Q. Anyone who
really listens to your music
or looks beyond Wikipedia
will quickly discover that
this a very smart,
thoughtful and enlightened
band, yet a notion persist
that you guys are right-wing
reactionaries because of
some images in your artwork
early on.
A. Any
press is good press until
someone calls you a Nazi or
pedophile. Obviously our
intention of putting a
Hitler rally on our record
is not saying, "Hey, look
how awesome it was." It was
more like, "Hey, look how
easy it is to fall into this
certain trap of a
totalitarian dictatorship."
It inspired conversation,
which is great. But it
inspires a conversation that
is so inane that you do not
feel like having it.
We were never really
thinking about long-term
plans. Naming your band
F---ed Up wasn't the best
idea; putting sketchy stuff
on the covers of our records
that could be misinterpreted
by people was not the best
idea. But the level of
success we have achieved was
never something any of us
considered possible, so we
didn't think about those
things.
As the group tore through a riveting set of unrelenting yet ultra-melodic hardcore punk, including tunes from its stellar 2008 album "The Chemistry of Common Life," bald, bearded and beer-bellied singer Pink Eyes, a.k.a. Damian Abraham, spent most of the set in the field with the fans, standing atop the crowd barrier or using his teeth to tear apart any stray beach ball tossed his way in an ecstatic explosion of unbridled energy.
I spoke with this unique rock front man as he and the band prepared for three events in Chicago next Saturday, Feb. 13: two shows and an exhibition of his drawings at the Concertina Gallery, 2351 N. Milwaukee, from 6 to 8:30 p.m.
A. It's weird: I want to walk this line and make it as honest as possible, but I also want to be as entertaining as possible. Sometimes those things go hand in hand; sometimes they are diametrically opposed. When you're having a terrible day, it's really hard to go on stage and be as honest as possible, because you're having a really bad day. But you still owe people a show because they sacrificed their time and money to come see you.
When we first started playing, I was almost playing a character. I would be super serious and like, "Alright, shut up and listen." Now I can't do that. I am just so excited and I get such a shock and thrill that people are there to see us. I want to find a way to express that to people watching us--I'm just as excited as they are if not more.
Q. I'll preface this by noting that I'm a guy who's built a lot like you, which is to say the exact opposite of the rock's svelte and stylish lead singers. Is it daunting for a guy who is not a traditional front man-type to get up there and let it all hang out?
A. It's true: We are conditioned to accept that musicians are sent down from heaven and cut/chiseled from marble gods. I don't think rock and roll has ever been that until the advent of the video generation. If you look at Bill Haley, he was no looker. Ritchie Valens, the Big Bopper... I think the rock 'n' roll image of the perfect singer is kind of working against bands. No one stays beautiful forever.
The thing with punk is that it's always been about playing with conventions and bucking them. For someone like me, I really don't think I have very much musical talent at all. I've been in bands since I learned about punk rock, but I do not have a lot of skills to show for it. I can't play guitar, and I can't drum for the life of me. Yet it's just one of those things: I like that anyone can do it. Not everyone should do it, but anyone can do it. And if it gives them joy and they have a good time, they should keep up with it.
Q. When we look at the band's long discography, it seems as if something clicked with "The Chemistry of Common Life," and suddenly a lot more people were excited about the group.
A. I think for us it was a perfect storm. There was a tendency for a lot of people outside of punk and outside of hardcore to kind of devalue the importance of punk and hardcore, even though it is kind of ironic because a lot of people come from that background. And I think had to do with signing to Matador. What we were doing was suddenly available from an acceptable source of this information; it wasn't us putting out a seven-inch on some little obscure punk label.
Q. You've just collected a lot of the earlier recordings on new "Couple Tracks: Singles 2002-2009." Do you think it holds up as an album?
A. To a certain extent. It's funny to look at it now, because it's hard to separate the events that were involved in each of those recordings. When I listen to "The Chemistry of Common Life," I picture it as a whole album because it was recorded that way. This one, the first song on it is from 2002 and the most recent is from last year. It is all over the map for us. It's really hard to picture it as a complete album, but I think what it does do is put in perspective how our sound has changed. A lot of people have criticized us for changing our sound [to be more melodic], but we're not smart enough to make a conscious decision to change our sound! I think this illustrates that we just drifted that way.
Q. There always has been a lot of melody in your songs. I thought you just got better at recoding them!
A. For us as a band, the stuff we were looking at as reference points definitely included the Germs and bands like that. But there were also bands like Mission of Burma and Wire--bands that strived to be more with what they had at their disposal and went to the studio to do weird things.
Q. Anyone who really listens to your music or looks beyond Wikipedia will quickly discover that this a very smart, thoughtful and enlightened band, yet a notion persist that you guys are right-wing reactionaries because of some images in your artwork early on.
A. Any press is good press until someone calls you a Nazi or pedophile. Obviously our intention of putting a Hitler rally on our record is not saying, "Hey, look how awesome it was." It was more like, "Hey, look how easy it is to fall into this certain trap of a totalitarian dictatorship." It inspired conversation, which is great. But it inspires a conversation that is so inane that you do not feel like having it.
We were never really thinking about long-term plans. Naming your band F---ed Up wasn't the best idea; putting sketchy stuff on the covers of our records that could be misinterpreted by people was not the best idea. But the level of success we have achieved was never something any of us considered possible, so we didn't think about those things.
FACTS
F---cked Up with Kurt Vile
9:30 p.m. Saturday, Feb. 13
The Viaduct Theater, 3111 N. Western
F---ed Up with Kurt Vile, Zola Jesus and Boystown
10 p.m. Saturday, Feb. 13
The Empty Bottle, 1035 N. Western
Tickets $12 for each show via www.emptybottle.com