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Major priorities (continued)


AFTER A COUPLE OF HOURS spent shooting the Explosion on the floor at Axis, technicians scurry to turn the room around so they can shoot the band performing — plugged-in this time — on the club’s stage before a small audience of 25 or 30 fans and friends. This is, in fact, the second time the Explosion have shot a video for "Here I Am." The first attempt was lensed by the team of Frank Borin and Ryan Smith, better known as Smith N’ Borin; famous for their work for Good Charlotte, they’ve had five of their videos retired from MTV’s Total Request Live. But the first shoot was a disaster, and it was scrapped. It was filmed, in fact, in a scrapyard — "Total ‘80s metal style," says guitarist Dave Walsh. "We shot in daylight," recalls Wolter. "There’s sun in their eyes, Matt’s squinting. I hated it."

Trying to work with a mall-punk video team, though, was a rare mistake: over the past five years, the Explosion seem to have done everything right. In 1999, they signed to the influential indie label Jade Tree, where they stood out as a classic, dyed-in-the-wool punk band on a roster of emo kids. They toured relentlessly, finding allies in up-and-coming bands like the Distillers and the Burning Brides, as well as in commercial punk-pop bands like Good Charlotte and AFI. Flash Flash Flash was hailed as an instant classic, and when the Explosion signed to Virgin, they sank part of their advance money into funding their artist-run label, Tarantulas. The label, and the band, became the locus of a nationwide network of friends and bands including the Distillers and the Bronx; Mayo, who brought his previous experience running the influential indie label Big Wheel to the enterprise, says he wants Tarantulas to become a punk-rock version of 50 Cent’s G-Unit farm team.

But will all of that work translate into major-label success? "I’ve always believed there’s a way to take an indie-label band and bring them to a major," says Wolter. He does acknowledge that it’s a challenge to market a band who arrive with a substantial career under their belts. "It’s something new for Virgin. We’ve all seen examples where an indie band goes to a major label and then doesn’t sell as many records as they did on the indie. We can’t have that."

The making of Black Tape was not without tension. The Explosion began recording demos in the fall of 2002, and they spent a year bouncing between producers and cities, all the while sending the results to Wolter, who kept sending the band back to the studio for revisions. He believes the work paid off. "My job is that sometimes I’m the band’s best friend and sometimes I’m their worst enemy." But by the end of 2003, Cave says the members were pulling their hair out. "It’s frustrating when it takes that long to do a record. You can’t do a tour because you’re recording demos, and you can’t generate much income." "We thought we were ready [to make an album] the first couple months," says bassist Damian Genuardi, "but there was a point where we had growing pains. I think if everyone in the band made their own solo records right now, they would all sound so different."

The finished product reflects the band’s growth as songwriters — Hock, who had never written a song before, penned "Here I Am" — as well as their divergent influences. The songs range from "Go Blank," which centers on a single torn-and-frayed chord, to the Fugazi-ish lunge and feint of "I Know" to the Hüsker Dü–ish "We All Fall Down." There’s even a song called "Mothers Cry" whose soaring harmonies could pass for TRL punk. But as if to balance it out, they’ve also re-recorded "No Revolution," the rallying cry that opened Flash Flash Flash. "Flash was written and recorded in such a short time that it was like the beginning and end of a thought," says Cave. "I think a lot of great records are like that: we didn’t really know what we were doing, but it came out pretty cool. This one is more a collection of songs, not necessarily coming from one direction. It’s just a snapshot of the band at a certain place and time."

AS THE SMALL LIVE AUDIENCE filters down to the front of the stage at Axis, the Explosion attempt to dispel their nervousness with self-depreciating humor. "This is going to be embarrassing for everyone involved," says Hock. "So let’s try to get through it." After several takes, though, the crew haven’t got what they’re looking for. "The shots are fine; it’s the energy level," LaCroix says. Wolter agrees, and he encourages the band to step it up. Action: fans slam and pogo, the Explosion whip their instruments back and forth. LaCroix, standing at the back of the room, takes a running start and leaps onto the heads of the audience, then runs to the back of the room and does it again. Rolling off to the side of the stage, he gestures at the band, whooping with his arms in the air: more, more.

Another take. A young man named Smith, a roadie for the band AFI who plays the part of the skateboarder in the "Here I Am" video, leads such an impassioned sing-along that he all but strangles Hock with the mike chord. Cut. Everyone takes five, except for Cave, who stays on stage with drummer Andrew Black and plays a note-perfect version of the Misfits’ "We Are 138." The cameras aren’t rolling, but the audience goes nuts anyway, and Cave seems as happy as he’s looked all day. Smith sits on the steps to the side of the stage. "Everyone was worried that there weren’t enough people at this shoot," he tells a friend. "But this reminds me of when I was little: you’d go to a show and there’d be 30 kids who really cared instead of 200 kids standing around like they didn’t give a shit. I haven’t talked to Matt about it, but I kinda think that’s what the song’s about." Then LaCroix begins calling the band back for one more take, one last chance to look, for posterity, like the Explosion.

page 2 

Issue Date: October 8 - 14, 2004
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