The 90 Day Men move beyond their punk rock roots without going all the way to prog
by Mike Gibson
Members of four-piece indie thought-rock band 90 Day Men live in Chicago and hail from St. Louis. But Knoxville also holds a special place in 90DM history, in that their first show outside the two cities they can rightfully call home was here, at late, lamented laundromat-cum-beer dive Gryphon's back in 1996.
"The people really appreciate you in Knoxville," says 90 Day guitarist Brian Case in a recent phone interview. "A lot of towns you go to, the people don't seem to appreciate the fact that you've come to play there. We've been there a few times since, and we're always well received."
Much has changed since that '96 milestone; the band signed with Chi-town independent Southern Records, released two full-lengths as well as a couple of EPs, added keyboardist Andy Lansangan, and even toured Europe.
Over the years, says Case, the band has also left behind more pedestrian punk-rock leanings and evolved into something far more intriguing, and a damn sight harder to pin down.
"We used to be into that punk thing of listening only to certain record labels; now we just listen to music, things we'd never think about before," Case says. "That's shaped what the band is now; four people with a lot of different influences, trying to create a sound that makes sense to all of us.
"We get compared to Pink Floyd pretty often. I never listened to them much, so I decided I should listen and see how accurate that is. Now, I can see elements of it; I guess there are some similarities, but I don't think there's a ton of Pink Floyd-ness there. But I can understand why people would think so."
Having read that, don't go see the 90 Day crew expecting to hear somnolent mood music. First and foremost, 90DM challenge the listener; theirs is a sound wholly absent of any readily digestible ear candy. 90 Day Men record songs that demand rumination; Case's vocals are spoken, droned, even muttered as often as sung; the instruments act as discreetly functioning units, embracing counterpoint as often as synchronicity. The band is almost prog-ish, yet without any of the anal-retentive properties that label usually confers. At times, 90DM sound like math-rockers for people who never gave a damn about math.
"Our music has progressively become more personal, more involved," Case says. "We pay more attention to how the music is recorded and how it's produced.
"The biggest change for us came when Andy joined full-time, on the second album [2002's To Everybody]. The first album [(It (is) It), 2000], we wrote in about two weeks, just sat down and kicked it out. We wrote the second one together, and Andy played keyboards on the whole thing. There's more collaboration and scrutiny in the songwriting process now."
The 90 Day Men have been with Southern Records, a widely distributed indie that is also home to former Knoxville band Atombombpocketknife, for about three years now. The association gives them freedom to record and tour as they please, with only the occasional need for day-job sustenance.
"We try to be out touring as much as we can," Case says. "Sometimes it's good, sometimes we have to get jobs between tours. We usually come home with enough money to pay rent and leave again.
"It's more profitable that way. When we're on the road, it means we're not at home spending money. At home, we have to pay for drinks."
Case says the band has managed a couple of European jaunts—"one per album," he says jokingly—and have plans for another in spring. After that, they look toward a May recording session for a third Southern Records release, about half of which has already been written.
The band's home at Southern Records is a comfortable one, Case adds, and he believes they'll remain on the label's extensive roster for the foreseeable future, especially given that 90DM's searching, complicated musings are best suited for searching, complicated listeners.
"If we ever had a choice to go to a major [label], we'd have to look at what the opportunity was. We would have to have a situation where we could keep doing what we're doing without being expected to sell seven million records. Our music doesn't really fit into that kind of marketing plan."
January 23, 2003 * Vol. 13, No. 4
© 2003 Metro Pulse
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