Farout

Rock-synth prodigies Twitchboy break ground with American Far West

by Sherie Dyer

The first time I heard American Far West, Twitchboy's soon-to-be-released debut CD, it was 3 in the morning and the police were on their way. Brant Dadaleares, Twitchboy's lead singer, had swung by beaming like a boy on Christmas morning, and unfortunately his excitement overflowed onto the volume knob. I learned two lessons at that early-morning hour: one, my neighbor has a very low tolerance for loud rock, and two, new barriers can still be crossed in modern music.

If you're not familiar with Portland's rock-synth prodigies Twitchboy, let's start with the story behind the name, as told by drummer Jason Stewart, who, along with bandmates Todd Hutchisen, Ryan Fleming, Jade Prout, and Brant Dadaleares, sat down for a conversation and a pitcher of PBR at Amigo's.

"I used to have a friend growing up named Barry Twitchelle," Jason begins. "Everybody called him Twitchboy. One day he was driving down the road and he hit a patch of ice. Barry went off the road, crashed into a deep embankment, and died. Three days later when they found his van `Only the Lucky Ones' by Loverboy was still playing. That was inspiring."

Is it hokey or is it humor? The table erupts in laughter answering the question. But that's what it's like with Twitchboy: serious music, witty bastards.

The members of the band have been honing their talents for years. Guitarist Todd earned his bachelors degree in fine arts, jazz performance, and voice. Brant has been flexing his mighty lungs around Portland for years (and singing like a new man these days having given up smoking). His last band was the early '90s Tripe, a traditional drums-bass-guitar-vocals outfit -- worlds away from the freedom of samples and keyboards Twitchboy embrace. Jason has been in nearly every band in Portland at one time or another, ranging from the Watermen to Active Culture.

"I used to go to Active Culture shows just to see Jason play," admits Jade, who handles the keyboard and sampler for the band. "I also used to be a crackhead, but I'm trying to cut down because it's so affordable!" In addition to Twitchboy, the comedian has also helped build formidable sound collages with some of Portland's best, like Ricky-Boy Floyd. Twitchboy bassist Ryan, who also plays around with Ricky-Boy on occasion, has past projects that include several hardcore bands, and even an occasional exploit in the folk genre.

While the band is an official five piece, it's an unofficial six. Amos Libby, a noted Portland percussionist, assists them on a regular basis. Libby is currently in India, but when he returns he will be "prepared for the mission." According to Brant, "Amos adds textures and layers to the music. It's mind-blowing! He never takes away from Jason."

Jason affectionately describes Amos in few words: "Amos is like bong hits after last call."

Twitchboy's music can't be easily described. At times they play straightforward heavy rock. At other times they offer up operatic melodies. The magic happens in the fusion that pulls each song together. We all tried to sum it up comfortably, to no avail. Todd mentioned the world music influences. I threw in "melodic rock for adults." Jason took the cake with "heavy metal Radiohead." Depending on who you ask, their sound is either a sonic daydream or dramatically busy.

"If our disk starts to play at a party," says Jade, "half the people will love it and the other half will hate it."

The band have played several dozen 21-plus shows and average two all-ages shows a year.

"I love kids; I love all-ages shows," Ryan says. "You can't fool them. They either like it or they don't."

According to Brant, "I have a hard time speaking to kids. I never liked myself as a kid. Sometimes it's just frightening."

Jason, the perpetual cake-taker, adds his own: "I have no preference. I have one mission, to play as hard and fast as possible."

In late August Twitchboy signed to Halogen records, a local label representing bands as far away as Nevada. The band's new album will have national distribution provided by New York-based Open Door Music. The goal with American Far West is to get people into what they're creating. A bit of recognition for all the effort. Not fame, just the opportunity to pay expenses and tour the East Coast. A normal desire considering the state of affairs in the music industry. "It's all about money," declares Todd. "Almost everything is, and we don't have any."

Each member ends up with no spare time to speak of between full-time jobs and practices. And the quality of their music speaks to their dedication; each song coveys a distinct level of sincerity spawned from a true musician's passion. I noticed some somber themes to their newer material. Points of suggestive drama, tucked inside a backbone of driven rock. I had to ask.

"Drama is a natural by-product of modern living," Jade says.

"Every single one of us has had a sad and sorry upbringing," adds Jason. "We can still find the time to laugh at everyone else. No intentional drama."

"It's just the way we write," Todd concludes. "We're an honest band."

Sherie Dyer can be reached at sheriedyer@netscape.net..