Straight Line Stitch makes metal without the pretense
by Mike Gibson
When Kevin Smith and James Davila joined with select members of their respective former bands, their concept for a new group seemed a novel one: a ferociously aggressive heavy rock band with two lead singers. Not two members capable of taking lead voice, mind you, but rather two vocalists who would divvy the singing chores on every track.
Three years later, rock radio and video TV are hostage to the sights and sounds of dual-vocalist outfits such as Linkin Park and Crazytown. Coincidence?
Well, probably so. "We thought we were original, then everyone else started doing it," says Smith a little ruefully. "But it was really by necessity for us. We were pulling two bands together, getting rid of the dead weight."
But credit Straight Line Stitch for turning the trick with more moxie and a certain refreshing rock barbarism possessed by none of those better-known twin voxters. The goal of Smith and Davila's collaboration isn't to complement or offset one another; their vocal coexistence is more akin to warfare, to two enraged Demiurges casting lyrical thunderbolts at one another, the din of guitarmageddon roiling below.
"It's not as hard as it seems," says Smith. "We decide what the song is going to be about, then we each write thoughts and lyrics. Then we cut and improvise."
The two singers, along with guitarist Seth Thacker, drummer Patrick Haynes, and bassist Jason Pedigo took the name Straight Line Stitch about two years ago. Last year's The Barkera is their first local release, a compelling four-song eruption of heavy riffs, raw throats and vitriol.
"It was dark, meaningless hatred music, for the most part," Smith says. "We were pissed off, and we wrote songs about how we would like to take our anger out on society."
"It was a vent," agrees Davila, the most visually striking member, a tall, elastic sort with lean features and careless dye-blonde dreads. "The songs were about personal stuff, really, so they had a lot of meaning to me."
Nonetheless, the songs and the band that wrought them struck a chord. In two years under the S.L.S. moniker, the six-piece (Virginian guitarist Nick Williams only recently joined the band) Stitch has gathered a faithful and zealous following. They play locally about four times a month now.
"We've got some pretty loyal fans," says Thacker. "We see a lot of the same people at every show. And they bring new people, and then we start seeing those people all the time.
"I walk past people in convenience marts who'll say, 'Hey, I saw you play the other night.' I even had little kids in the mall come up and ask for an autograph. That was weird."
Thacker calls S.L.S. a "straight-up metal band," and that's probably one of the reasons for that success. In an age of posturing rap-rockers, their music is stripped of turgidity and tough-guy pretense; the riffs are galvanizing, the sentiments direct, their performances blistering and emotionally resonant.
But the band should have another CD pressed by February, and Thacker says the new material will expand Stitch's sonic palette, without altering too radically the firm foundation of their heavy riff-based approach.
"We're not leaving any doors closed," Thacker says. "We're going to start throwing in more melody and singing."
But as much as their music, the band members credit a healthy work ethic for their popularity hereabouts. Playing heavy rock in Knoxville is an often thankless task, and the Stitch boys have persevered through all of the requisite tough gigs at hotbox venues and unruly beer-fests; a recent out-of town jaunt saw the sextet play a seedy Carolina club named Hookers, and then a similarly unseemly Alabama strip joint.
"The only good part of the night was the parking lot guy," Davila remembers with a laugh. "He was cool. I gave him a CD, and he was bumpin' it."
The Stitch fellows also take rehearsals to heart, convening twice a week with all six members. Most of the guys take part in writing and arranging chores, with Davila and Smith working in tandem to create their powerfully collaborative double-vocal parts.
The dues-paying and dedication have paid dividends, in both popularity and profile. Straight Line Stitch has even earned slots on local bills with major label artists like Earshot, Skinlab, and Bile.
They'll be scarce hereabouts in the coming months, however, splitting time between studio work and occasional out-of-town shows. When the new CD is finished, they look toward a two-week tour that will take them to 16 cities, in Kentucky, Kansas, Texas and Illinois.
"The new CD could come out earlier, but we want plenty of time to get everything just right. I don't want anything to sound second-hand.
"We've got our crowd now, but it's not because we're so special. We're no better than anyone else," Thacker says. "But I think we're one of the hardest-working bands around here."
November 28, 2002 * Vol. 12, No. 48
© 2002 Metro Pulse
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