GETTING TO THE CORPS
by Jeff Mintz
If the British Invasion of 1964 sparked off a fresh enthusiasm for rock 'n' roll in the US, followed by an onslaught of new bands to carry the rediscovered energy across the land, the same could be said of the scenario that followed the 1977 English Punk Explosion. Chicago's Effigies formed in the wake of those shock waves in April, 1980. For four years they have maintained the same members, appeared on vinyl seven times and criss-crossed America three times, touring dives and 4,000 seat arenas. Through it all they have shown both consistency and growth as well as an individualism that has set them apart from their nose-thumbing contemporaries. Their recently released LP, For Ever Grounded, has started to place on indie charts and begun to give them the national profile for which they've been striving.
Vocalist and lyricist John Kezdy was born in Belgium, grew up in Evanston and had been friends with Evanston drummer Steve Economou for a decade when they met Morton Grove bassist Paul Zamost amid the din at Neo one night in 1979. They decided to form a band--their first--and tried it as a three-piece until John decided he couldn't sing and play guitar at the same time. Transplanted New Yorker and cover band wiz Earl Letiecq was invited to play guitar. Seven months later they debuted live at the original and ever-on-the-run Oz club on Hubbard Street, and they've been going ever since.
All in their mid-20s now, Kezdy graduated high school in that fatal year of double seven, and recalls his inspiration. "Sex Pistols," he states resolutely. "As unsophisticated as the music was, it blew everything else away. All I did in high school was listen and be on the consuming end of music and it never dawned on me to be in a band until that whole punk/do-it-yourself thing came out. We weren't old enough to get into Chicago clubs but we'd trek up to Toronto where my cousin lives and see the Deadboys at the Horseshoe, a really cool club."
Though punk's rawness appealed to Kezdy, he also identified with the attitude: "I used to be into heavy metal at the time--not the corny shit you get now, but the electric R&B bands like Cream, Ten Years After, and Rory Gallagher. I always thought these guys were pretty understated but hard and abrasive and had a sense of style--not all flash. Then the punk thing came along and pointed a finger laughing and making fun of the conventions of established rock. I mean these people who have to comb their locks just right and sound like Loverboy have no sense of humor about it. What kills me is that a movie like Spinal Tap can come out and people still take it seriously. There are headbangers out there who think it's real!"
While there is nothing particularly funny about the Effigies' music, their down-to-earth demeanor shuns the trappings of show biz. They dislike the talking-down-from-a-pedestal snideness of other bands and try to create a more involved bond between band and audience. A typical Effigies show has that feeling, whether people are listening intently or colliding their skin, mohawk and razor-cut headed bodies to the intense barrage of propulsive sound. The band unpretentiously stands their ground, churning out locomotive rhythms and waves of feedback-laced guitar slashes and leads. Kezdy delivers his lyrics in a husky singing shout and sometimes wonders not only about people picking them out over the roar, but whether they pick up the meanings of the decidedly un-punk wordings. Addressing issues from nuclear threat to ideological and physical political battles, Kezdy conveys his messages with an imagery that doesn't beat you over the head.
"Let's face it," Kezdy says, "most people go to gigs as social gatherings and they don't even care about lyrics that much to begin with. Being independent and taking responsibility is ultimately everybody's duty. It's important to be an individual. That's what I'm putting across, but I'm not going to preach to people. If you write lyrics with a bit more artistic sway it's a lot more convincing than reading political dogma."
Economou describes the band's musical methodology: "We create the music first. It just makes more sense to have an already established mood musically and then write the lyrics because you have a better feeling for what the song is like." Kezdy picks up the thought: "Music is evocative and can bring out words more than the reverse. I don't know...a lot of times people don't understand what I'm writing about. I try to be more abstract. Plainness has its place, but I enjoy the puzzle aspect of putting words and lines together to come up with a meaning."
The Effigies started as a punk band. Today they think of themselves as a rock band. They are not--repeat--not a hardcore band. The most recent offspring of punk, hardcore's unrelenting loudness, machine gun beat and sore throat waitings have found favor among many of the nation's disenchanted youth brigade. They have rallied around it to blow off steam but find its energy and accusatory, nihilistic attitude appealing. The Effigies find it boring.
Bemoaning the fact they've had to "carry the cross of hardcore" around with them, the band thinks it's one reason people haven't taken them more seriously. In the process they've gotten their share of abuse from other bands.
"We don't care if some kids treat it like a big party. That's okay--we like fun," explains Economou. "But when people criticize us for not supporting them and they aren't serious enough about their band to pull off a decent performance, then we get pissed off. Hardcore is like tenth generation punk. They retain a more political stance than some of the originals but musically it's degenerating into something like bad heavy metal."
"A lot of groups took their cue from others who made it big, like the Dead Kennedys," continues Kezdy, "but eventually it became too stilted. Everybody was just-mouthing political blather patterned after whatever was being accepted. Everything people used to say about punk is almost true now about hardcore--''ey, these guys can't play their instruments...'ey, these guys look like jerks...'ey, they're stupid'--hey, you've got me on every point, man. They've become the worst cliche. The minute we got paid more than fifty bucks for a gig people were pointing saying, 'Hey, you guys are sellouts.' We're not selling out until we start doing things we don't like doing just for the money!"
Certainly, sleeping on people's floors and traveling through blizzard winds at 35 miles per hour (with the gas pedal to the floor!) hasn't made them wealthy. "A lot of hardcore fans are middle class kids who are intelligent, but emotionally messed up and they are just kids," emphasizes Kezdy. "That's fine to rebel against authority--but things aren't as terminal as they seem to think. They've got a chip on their shoulder with an 'us versus them' attitude or 'look what's being done to me...I'm a nothing...Reagan this and that.' Well that's not the way things are--this is America! If you've got an alternative, a better way--present it--be an example--show us the way. It's always easier to cut things down than to come up with something positive."
The sales of the new LP have been encouraging and, despite setbacks including debts and inept booking agencies, the group has already begun recording songs for their next album under the auspices of Fever/Enigma Records. (The West Coast Enigma label has handled nationwide distribution of their last three records.) "I'd like to build our own niche and bring our sound up with us rather than conform to an already acceptable sound," says Kezdy. "We're intent on evolving our sound and not losing patience and self-destructing. We're capable of putting out music that will get airplay without compromising that much, but the new things are moving into other directions. We've been playing this older stuff for so long. Fans should grow with the band. Everybody changes."
"We're still going to have energy and crunch to it, but it will be more melodic," adds Economou. Then he deadpans, "Like Paul (Zamost) says, 'We want to see girls with mini-skirts at our shows.'"