Born again rockers

Rustic Overtones look to finally get what they deserve

By Sam Pfeifle

Rustic Overtones play the Maine State Pier, with Gruvis Malt, The Clarks, and Jeremiah Freed, June 9, at 2 p.m. Call Bull Moose Music at (207) 780-6424.

IT’S ABOUT TIME: Rustic Overtones can finally enjoy themselves, and their new album.

In the soap opera that has been the life of a Rustic Overtone these past two years, Arista — headed by Clive Davis and then LA Reid — was the evil paternal figure.

“We got yelled at once by Clive Davis,” says lead singer David Gutter, “for playing too loud, for rocking out too hard, because that might not have been best for our career.” They were at a BMG (Arista’s parent company) Festival for industry types, “and we were the only rock band there,” remembers keyboardist Spencer Albee. “We figured after all of those R&B groups, they’d want us to really rock out. So we went out there and got in trouble.”

That’s right, they got in trouble. “So, after we left Arista,” Albee continues, “we wanted to write a song that was like, ‘look how loud we are.’ ” Hence the song “Combustible,” with Gutter virtually screaming that the band “were inside for days. I went outside, took in the sunlight rays. Now I’m ultraviolet, in many shades, in many ways.”

Rustic Overtones have been released from their purgatory, and Viva Nueva, released to the public June 5 and celebrated with an all-day affair on the Maine State Pier June 9, is quite aptly named. The new energy is tangible in the songs they’ve selected, and visibly apparent in the newly buoyant members of the band.

Take their recent video shoot for the album’s first single, “C’mon,” as an example. Tommy Boy — Rustic’s new label, and what would have to be the benevolent rich uncle if we’re to continue the soap opera allegory — gave the boys almost total creative license. So what did they do? They invited 100 of their closest friends to come party in their practice space, of course, where they culminated a day of shooting with a little private concert with some faces up front that the savvy Portland music fan just might recognize.

You see, “C’mon,” another of the post-Arista tunes, is all about perseverance. “If I try, I’m half-way to triumph,” sings Gutter, and “If I sigh, I’m half-way to silence.” The Overtones won’t be bottled up any longer.

“We’ve made the record,” says drummer Tony McNaboe, “now somebody else has a job to do.”

“Yeah,” says alto saxist Ryan Zoidis, “now we just need to play some good shows.”

That shouldn’t be a problem. Rustic Overtones have always been a live band first and foremost, filling a stage with seven men before Dave Noyes’s departure, and now a leaner and meaner sextet. June 9’s extravaganza at the pier is indicative of just how attentive the band can be to their fans.

Not only are they bringing Gruvis Malt, the Clarks, and Jeremiah Freed to the stage for Portlanders to enjoy, but they’re offering up the first 600 tickets for student-run charitable organizations to sell in advance — and letting them keep half the proceeds. They’ve also got a nice little marketing gig set up whereby a ticket to the show and a copy of the new disc come as a package deal for $15 from their buddies at Bull Moose Music.

You see, the Overtones are nothing if not loyal: to their fans; their friends; their management at Ripchord, who worked all this label magic; and even the Bull Moose records stores, whose owners once stood up and used their allotted time at an industry conference to ask “Where the fuck is the Rustic album?”

Which is why there’s a small amount of trepidation surrounding the new album. Gutter admits that there are “some surprises, some different versions of stuff.” That’s nothing new for Rustic, however, as every album has sounded different than the last. “We might lose some fans who liked the last album,” says bassist Jon Roods, “but we’ll pick up more who like the new one.”

For instance, they went through something of a “ska crisis” after Long Division (Ripchord) in 1995. “We liked ska,” says Gutter, “but we never said ‘let’s be that.’ ” Unfortunately, that’s what they became for a lot of people, who were mildly surprised with the more-sophisticated Rooms by the Hour (Ripchord), the full-length that followed in 1998. Now they try to bridge the gap to the new material, and to that end they’ve even included some old chestnuts as a token to their past success, but with a slightly different spin.

Like the more-soulful, one-key-lower take on the fan fave from Rooms, “Hardest Way Possible,” which has been retooled so many times the band joke about releasing the “Hardest Way” maxi-single as their next effort. At one point, says Gutter, “the song was much slower, with strings and a full orchestra and mellotron.”

“It was real expensive sounding,” says Albee. “We brought it home to play for our mothers and it was instant tears: ‘oh, it’s so sad and beautiful.”

“Not my mother,” says McNaboe. “She hated it.” Anyway, that was basically the problem with Arista. They were only interested in “Hardest Way” and “Check.” “It was like we didn’t have any other songs,” says Albee.

That’s why the band was so excited when Tommy Boy chose the new “C’mon” as the single. “We were really flattered,” says Albee. “We just sent them the demo of what we recorded and they loved it.”

“Tommy Boy showed that they had faith,” says Gutter.

“Or taste,” chimes in Zoidis.

“They heard songs on the album that Arista didn’t even know existed,” Gutter continues. “We could have put death metal on the rest of the album and Arista wouldn’t have even known.” Which is sort of what they did when they recorded “Smoke” under Arista’s watch. It was their first sign of rebellion, and it “spawned a period of ‘you think that’s weird? Check this out’ ” says Albee. “That was the song that ushered in the new sound, the new direction.”

Working with Tony Visconti at the time, Rustic’s Arista affiliation did provide the luxury of bringing in Funkmaster Flex to cut up some vinyl during fills and the bridge. The tune was their first with basically no guitar, no noticeable melody, not really in any key. It’s a production piece, full of percussive sounds, whirs and distortions, Gutter’s voice hauntingly computerized. It is not a party tune, and, suffice to say that Arista was not in love with it.

Even the vaunted tunes done in collaboration with David Bowie — Rollingstone.com recently led with a story headed “Bowie joins Rustic Overtones” that featured, of course, a picture of Bowie — are in the vein of a darker, frustrated band. “Sector Z,” one of the two tracks on which Bowie appears, and the only one attributed to him on the album cover, is a jazzy, breezy number about otherworldly communication on the surface, but the chorus belies a certain distaste with their situation.

“Are you listening?” it asks. “Is your volume up? Is your power on?” Almost begging the execs, as if to say “do you want us to play or not?”

“This is Rock ‘n Roll. This is Rock ‘n Roll,” the chorus finishes, with Bowie and Gutter in tandem. The song almost demands to be heard. It can’t be coincidence that “Combustible” follows on the record.

Luckily, the experience with Tommy Boy seems to have turned that bitterness into exuberance. They embraced whatever the Overtones wanted to do. When Kurt St. Thomas — the A&R guy who brought them to Arista, then Tommy Boy, and shot their video with his Corporate Sucker production company — set up a laid-back performance for the Tommy Boy execs in what amounted to their cafeteria, “everyone had an opinion,” says Albee. “Everybody actually had a favorite song. Having the higher ups choose some of the odd material was great.”

“They picked out seven singles, which was kind of scary in the opposite direction.”

They also allowed the band to organize the album to their liking; choosing the songs and their order, and recording four new tunes in their practice space. See if you can pick out which songs were produced by recording legends Visconti (Bowie) and David Leonard (Fishbone, Prince) and which were done by the band, themselves. It’s hard.

“We know how to record now,” says Albee, “you can hear things. There’s only so much space on a CD for sound, so now instead of all trying to play at once, we have band-wide riffs. And instruments sound like instruments, Tony’s drums sound like Tony’s drums.”

“And there’s less distractions when we’re on our own,” says Zoidis. “We’re not on the clock.”

“Love Underground,” for instance, is probably the finest song on the album. It is infectious and personal, and like the best Overtones tunes, there is a narrative quality: a simple love song, where opposites can finally attract. “Devil left the party with an angel, love left the party with greed,” Gutter croons in a sort of playfully nasal voice over Albee’s digitized keys. “Innocence left the party with hateful, and you left the party with me.”

The thunderous chorus follows, with Gutter’s voice at its best, and the blaat of Jason Ward’s baritone sax reaching toward Morphine depths. “I pulled up love from underground. It was deep beneath the street, beneath the boots that beat concrete. I always looked up to the sky in hopes for you and I.”

Again, the feeling is that Rustic have pulled themselves up by their bootstraps to make something out of what could easily have been nothing. And if you know the band, the second verse is priceless.

“Frankenstein left the party with a little girl, Tony left with all the friends that he had in the world. Ryan left eyeing fur coats and peals buying, when John and Jay left the party they were flying.” Is Albee a pedophile, Zoidis a drag queen? No, it’s just that they’re actually having fun now.

“I was just kind of making it up,” says Gutter, “using that vibe from the Stonecoast [hip-hop open mic sessions]. I was looking at Ryan making this silly face, wearing his new shirt and it just came out. Later I was rewriting the verse and everybody said ‘we liked it better when it was about us.’ ”

Finally, after such a long wait, it is all about them. The “where’s the album” question no longer hangs over their heads. There’s no question about whether the label supports them or not. All they have to do is get out on the road, play their music, and collect the adulation.

“I’m nervous,” says Ward, “but I’m excited. I’ve got butterflies, but they’re happy butterflies.” n

Sam Pfeifle can be reached at spfeifle@phx.com.