The Reddmen - The Reddmen Anthology 1995-2010

• Liner Notes from The Reddmen Anthology 1995-2010

So you wanna know about the Reddmen, huh? Solid grooves, tasteful moves? How J. Waylon goes about constructing those shoulda‐been‐introduced‐by‐Kasey‐Kasem pop hits? How at the end of a song, Miyo can silence not just his cymbals, but awe the whole room into shocked quietude? How Trevor can simultaneously look like the Hebrew Hammer and Jason Schwartzman at the same time? (Yeah, I said “simultaneously” and “the same” simultaneously in the same sentence—back the hell off, jack, I’m just a writer, not a journalist.) You wanna know what the funk makes this boys club tick?? …Too bad suckers. As I learned as a 6‐month‐tenured touring member of said band, The Reddmen are a fraternity of many unspoken secrets. You always get the feeling there’s more to every story‐ hell, every conversation‐ than they are going to reveal. Hidden motives? Dark pasts? Plots + plans abound, but you won’t get the lowdown outta them‐ you just have to wait patiently and piece things together yourself. …And outta me? I’ve got a story too. There’s more than I might let on, but if you wait, and if you read between the lines, you might find a secret or two revealed.

I met the boys when they toured (as they often did) through my town in central Montana. An Eagles’ basement. The mic had a grounding issue and kept shocking Johnny. There was a mod target on the bass drum. They were as catchy as poprock, but rocked harder than any plain ol’ pop‐‐ windmills and scissor kicks a flyin’! Despite the fact that the vocals were nearly inaudible, it was evident that this was not your typical suck band from Whocareston, USA. We shot the shit and it turned out we had very similar musical taste and background (minus the 80s glam and 70s country/rock crossover). They gave me “Sons of the Morning Star” and “Another Tale of the Trippy Counterculture High‐End Prissy Designers”, which was a CD‐R of unreleased tracks (heard by the general public for the first time right now, as disc 2 of the set you just received). …Consider me blown away.

Over the next few months, we traded late night calls, set up shows for each others’ bands, ate pizza together, watched rock documentaries, got to be buds, and Johnny offered to record some songs for my group. We traveled back and forth to Rapid quite a bit, working on our stuff in increments, gradually understanding the recording process better, learning about the guys’ relationships with one another, and meeting the Reddfriends (not a poorly named team of super heroes, but the band’s large circle of pals who could essentially be considered extended family, since many of them had played in the band or one of the boys’ many side‐projects at one point or another (“Reddfriends”, by the way, is my term, not the bands’)). At one point, when I was down on my luck and had nothing happening for me in my city, I somehow landed an invitation to a rhythm guitar slot. Excited, and happy to leave my troubles behind, I packed and headed for The Star of the West. …And when I got there, it was shocking. These guys actually knew how to play their instruments! I’d been messing around in bands for 10 years, but none of the people I’d started groups with knew much more than the names of the strings (and of course, drummers didn’t even know that (though its worth noting no one is surprised when a drummer doesn’t know something)). And really, saying that they knew how to play their instruments is an understatement‐‐ the boys weren’t just great musicians, they fully understood writing and arrangement: the power of purposeful restraint, how to add complexity through texture, how to articulate lead notes with delicacy or ferocity, and they had an ear for tone…and then, of course, the vocals‐ one minute it’s a Smokey Robinson‐Diana Ross hybrid, the next a big‐lunged garage scream that could unwind your

cochlea. Added to this, in the Reddquarters sub‐level (known to the layjerk as The Orchid Room), Johnny made terrific (be‐)lo‐fi recordings that would wow friends n’ followers. Maybe most importantly though, what the Reddmen had was vision. They were their own band with their own sound, who took a side against genre‐boxification; and even if you could pick apart some particular song to find its origins of inspiration and dilute it to some composite fragments, there’s no way that you could ever mistake a Reddmen song for someone else’s. Bits + pieces cut up and rearranged, laminated by true students of rock n roll.

Even though this impressed me to no end, it really only makes sense. Rapid City, SD is smack dab in the middle of nowheresville. …Not just isolated, but unbelievably isolated to anyone who’s never been familiarized with the dull yellow color of prairie grass in a dry August (and they are all dry Augusts). Nothing but hay fever and boredom…ample time to perfect your craft…what else are ya gonna do‐ taxidermy?

So for 6 months I did my best to keep up. Walked the walk and rocked the rock, roomed in Johnny’s velvet shrine, joked with their extended family (blood related and band related), rode shotgun in the wee hours in the Reddvan, drove Vanzig, wrecked Vanzig, drove Vanzig again, fell into amps, ate green chile breakfast burritos, partook of free Innes gear and lobster, thanks to friends and label honchos, slept on floors and in vehicles, took the blame for things that were my fault, took the blame for things that weren’t my fault (part of your job as the new guy), threw guitars, kicked high, got a taste for horchata, Listened to R. and GG, and inhaled my percent lifetime value of secondhand smoke; and three tours later, my time was up…had to hit the trail for an equally isolated burg in a neighboring state. …But not before catching onto some of those aforementioned secrets. You wanna find out about the deep shit? Not gonna happen, guy; but I’ll slide you some crumbs… Here’s some observations I picked up that have served me well:

· Nighttime driving is always preferable to daytime driving.

· Regional food and drink is one of the best parts of touring (see: Ale-8-one).

· When your feet are cold, take off your shoes and sit on them (your feet, not your shoes, dumbshit).

·Home recording is fairly affordable and more fun/challenging/convenient/better sounding than going to some bad local studio.

· Plotting your own tours is best done through friends…’cause you never have to shake down your buddies (see: Peoria IL).

· Buttons on a suit jacket, from top to bottom: sometimes, always, never.

‐Kelly La Croix/Kelly Ell/Our Kelly/Meatknife

Reddmember # ‐‐‐‐‐‐‐‐(fill in the blank here, Johnny…dunno what number I ended up being)