JUMP Summer 2015

ISSUE #18

SUMMER 2015

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DJ SYLO

BREAKS OUT YOUNG BOLS & OLD HEADS: MANNEQUIN PUSSY, JAZMINE SULLIVAN, POPULATION ZERO, BEAR-ONE & MUCH MORE

CONTENTS | Issue #18

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SUMMER 2015

THE JUMP OFF The Byers brothers, Bear-One, ill Fated Natives, Edelweiss, The Weaks, the Getaway Drivers, the Blair brothers, Population Zero and Old Head.

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MUSIC & EDUCATION Drexel University's Music Industry Program students mixed new music from old Philly Groove recordings.

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MUSIC & POLITICS Jim Kenney is poised to become the next mayor of Philadelphia and he recognizes the importance of the arts.

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THIS PLACE ROCKS By offering beer, food and music, Rybrew has become a destination in Brewerytown. PhilaMOCA showcases art and music in the former home of Mad Decent.

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COVER stories DJ SYLO is young but he's become a staple of the local party scene, largely because he's throwing some of the best parties in town.

Joie Kathos thought she would have a career as a dancer. An injury forced her to change gears and her career as a rapper is now blossoming.

Jazmine Sullivan fills her music - and her stage shows with her vibrant personality.

In less than a year since moving here from New York, Mannequin Pussy has found a home and a community.

After all these years, The Dead Milkmen continue to be loud, angry, subversive and super fun.

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FOOD THAT ROCKS Before all the pop-up beer gardens arrived in Philly, there was Morgan's Pier. For the fourth summer, they are offering music and food outdoors, along the Delaware River.

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INSIDE VOICES Philly rock legends Kenn Kweder and Richard Bush discuss the art of showmanship and the state of music in the city.

FRONT COVER: DJ SYLO and Fidel, by Charles Shan Cerrone. BACK COVER: Joie Kathos, by Brae Howard. CONTENTS PAGE: (top to bottom) ill Fated Natives, by Grace Dickinson; Jazmine Sullivan, by Michael Bucher; Kenn Kweder and Richard Bush, by Meredith Edlow.

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publisher G.W. MILLER III managing editor CHRIS MALO deputy editors MICHAEL BUCHER, BETH ANN DOWNEY contributing editors CHARLES SHAN CERRONE, JESSICA FLYNN, TYLER HORST, BRIANNA SPAUSE contributors LISSA ALICIA, KYLE BAGENSTOSE, RACHEL BARRISH, TIMOTHY BECKER, VINCE BELLINO, CHRIS BROWN, JUMAH CHAGUAN, GABI CHEPURNY (LA OFFICE), ASHLEY COLEMAN, RICH COLEMAN, KEVIN COOK, DARRAGH DANDURAND, CHESNEY DAVIS, RACHEL DEL SORDO, GRACE DICKINSON, JUSTIN DOWDALL, MEREDITH EDLOW, LAURA FANCIULLACCI, CHRIS FASCENELLI, DUSTIN FENSTERMACHER, ERIC FITZSIMMONS, CHIP FRENETTE, JEFF FUSCO, JENNIFER GRANATO, JESSICA GRIFFIN, JARED GRUENWALD, DAN HALMA, BRAE HOWARD, LUONG HUYNH (MIDWEST OFFICE), PAUL IMBURGIA, GRETA IVERSON, EVAN KAUCHER, JENNY KERRIGAN, ERIN MARHEFKA, MINA LEE, MATTHEW LEISTER, MORGAN JAMES, JENELLE JANCI, SEAN KANE, RICK KAUFFMAN, DONTE KIRBY, MEGAN MATUZAK, KATE McCANN, TERESA McCULLOUGH, JASON MELCHER, NIESHA MILLER, TIESHA MILLER, DAVE MINIACI, BRENDAN MENAPACE, ELIAS MORRIS, TIM MULHERN, BRIAN MYSZKOWSKI, TIM O'DONNELL, URSZULA PRUCHNIEWSKA, EMILY SCOTT, CHAD SIMS, KEVIN STAIRIKER, BRITTANY THOMAS, JOHN VETTESE, JARED WHALEN, BRIAN WILENSKY WE PRINT 10,000 FULL-COLOR ISSUES FOUR TIMES PER YEAR, IN MARCH, JUNE, SEPTEMBER AND NOVEMBER. WE DISTRIBUTE THEM FREE AT PHILLY AREA MUSIC VENUES, STUDIOS, RESTAURANTS, RECORD SHOPS, BARS, CLOTHING BOUTIQUES, GYMS, BOOK STORES, COFFEE SHOPS, UNIVERSITIES, CLUBS AND OTHER PLACES WHERE MUSIC LOVERS HANG OUT. IF YOU WANT MAGS AT YOUR LOCATION, EMAIL US AT JUMPPHILLY@GMAIL.COM. JUMP is an independent magazine published by Mookieland Inc. We are not owned by Temple University nor anyone else other than Mookieland, which is a company named after the publisher's awesome dog.

The company was created in 2010 specifically to launch this magazine.

We have no money. We need your advertising dollars to print this mag, which promotes the local music scene. By supporting JUMP, you are supporting the local music scene.

This is a full-on, DIY, community effort. If you want to get involved, if you have story ideas or if you just have something to say, email us at jumpphilly@gmail.com, tweet us @JUMPphilly and find us at facebook.com/jumpphilly.

Philly rocks. Spread the word. facebook.com/JUMPphilly

Publisher's Note

Picking a Cover?

"How do you decide who goes on the covers?"

The question pops up all the time and I've never really been able to answer it concisely. The algorithm is ridiculously complex - sort of scientific in parts and kind of personal in others.

It all begins every fall, when the editors and I sit down to discuss potential themes for the upcoming year's issues. The themes are subtle and really just for us - they help us create an issue that reads well from cover to cover, regardless of what kind of music you prefer. This issue, for example, is our "Young Bols and Old Heads" edition. In the past, we have done "The Outsiders," "Unfiltered," "Walls," "Issues," "Wasted" and "Non-Music" issues.

Immediately after we wrap up one issue, we begin to plan the next.

The editors and I will discuss ideas and come up with a preliminary list of potential cover stories, usually based upon discussions we've been having with folks in the scene over the previous few months.

Then, we have a meeting with the full staff and we kick around ideas.

That's when we really start to narrow down on what people, acts or whatever will be on the covers. This is when it gets complicated.

When we launched our magazine in March 2011, the idea was to shine a spotlight on Philly talent, to portray our artists in ways that reveal their character. These people are more than just entertainers on stages. There is a story behind each person, place, act, etc. and that's what we want to offer to people who pick up the magazine.

We try to be very diverse, largely because the talent that exists here runs the gamut of musical genres, styles and sounds - as well as racial and gender diversity. This city is a colossal mix of people. A magazine that covers this great city should also have a colossal mix of people.

The national glossy mags will feature artists who have new music dropping soon after that edition hits the streets. We only publish every three months, so it's not worth us trying to be that timely.

Rather, we try to keep our ears to the ground to see who is catching a lot of buzz. Since we can't very well be the first to tell you about something, we can give you a more comprehensive understanding of them and we'll show you things behind the scenes.

Our goal is ultimately to be relevant, if not forward-thinking.

At the end of the process, we look to see what art we have. Since we want to get your attention, the best art is usually what we wind up putting on the covers. So, acts that allow us time to work with them to do good photography have a better shot at being on a cover.

We've featured some great acts inside the mag that were definitely cover-worthy but they couldn't (wouldn't?) make time for us.

There's always an internal debate about what goes on the covers.

We, the JUMP staffers, try not to push our friends or our own interests for the covers. This magazine is not supposed to be about us. But we all have things we like, things we think are deserving of the publicity, recognition or whatever.

The magazine is supposed to be about this city. If you ever have suggestions for stuff we should cover, drop us a line.

- G.W. Miller III JUMPphilly.com

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Photo by Mina Lee.

The JUMP Off

INSIDE: THE BYERS BROTHERS p. 8 / BEAR-ONE p. 9 / iLL FATED NATIVES p. 10 / EDELWEISS p. 13 / THE WEAKS p. 15 / THE GETAWAY DRIVERS p. 16 / THE BLAIR BROTHERS p. 20 / POPULATION ZERO p. 23 / OLD HEAD p. 24 /

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Photo by Mina Lee.

The JUMP Off

Relationship Builders

Brothers Sherman and Marc Byers built their Rockstar Entertainment company into a success by being good people.

“Y’all don’t go too far,” Marc Byers calls to his mother and some guests passing through the dining room.

He’s wearing a black track jacket, familiar to anyone who has come across his cultural ambassador profile on Philly 360°.

It is no surprise to see family around. Marc and his older brother Sherman have built a livelihood on maintaining good, family-type relationships with artists, producers and companies.

The brothers started their first company, Black Friday Entertainment, when they discovered and managed rap artists such as Beanie Sigel and Eve. In 2000, they started Rockstar Entertainment, which opened them up to working with different genres and allowed them to move away from the management role and into a business that connects companies and people.

“We’re a conduit,” Sherman says of Rockstar Entertainment in 2015. “We don’t want all the responsibility on the left hand side or the right hand side. But we do want to fuse it together.”

Marc mentions how people they started off with in the music business have spread across industries and become leaders with companies such as Samsung, Pepsi and even the Obama administration. Often when those people are looking to make connections, they come to Rockstar.

“We have a conversation about what someone is trying to actually accomplish,” Marc says. “Then we’ll go into our Rolodex and figure out what opportunities can help support where they are trying to go.”

They helped Raven Simone put together a new management team when she was ready for a new phase in her career. They helped secure artists for the Philly 360° campaign for Visit Philadelphia when it was just getting started. And they helped bring Idris Elba to direct a short film for Pepsi’s “Beats of the Beautiful Game” series for the 2014 FIFA World Cup. Even while talking about their days in management, Marc’s interest in fostering relationships is evident. When Eve was not getting what she needed at Dr. Dre’s Aftermath Records, Marc and Sherman helped her get a deal with Ruff Ryders. But they acted in a way that kept Dr. Dre happy and as someone they could work

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with in the future.

Sherman says they learned from their father, who ran a car wholesaling business, the importance of separating what is personal from what is strictly business, especially when you partner with a brother who lives around the corner.

“To be honest with you, it’s easy, believe it or not,” Sherman says about working with Marc.

“We’ve always worked from a standpoint of never overlapping one another’s space and understanding what somebody’s strengths and weaknesses are.”

The brothers are originally from North Carolina but grew up in Mount Airy, where Marc says their uncle, a musician, connected them to the music scene.

“Pieces of a Dream [a rhythm and blues group from Philadelphia] grew up across the driveway from us,” says Marc. “We had so much music around. I don’t think we knew that it was natural then. But when it came around the corner, it was kind of organic. We figured it out.”

In the community, Marc and Sherman work

with Philly’s tourism department and their alma mater, Martin Luther King High School.

“They are helping to connect us with more innovative ways to reach our young people,” says William Wade, the principal at MLK High.

He says the brothers have helped bring programs such as Big Brothers Big Sisters and a partnership with Ciright Systems to teach students computer coding to the school, in addition to serving as mentors for students.

“They are very popular alumni members of Martin Luther King,” Wade says. “They keep us connected with folks who can help us to guide our young folks in a positive direction.”

Marc feels that musically, Philadelphia has a lot of talent and a wealth of venues that give them the chance to showcase their skills alongside of some of the biggest names in music.

“It’s not an industry town,” Marc says. “That’s why sometimes we get stuck. It’s a talent town.

It’s loaded with talent. We have some of the most robust talent moving some heavy things around the world.”

- Eric Fitzsimmons facebook.com/JUMPphilly

Photo by Dustin Fenstermacher.

So what is your relationship to Sugar Tongue Slim [STS]?

Just MC and DJ. Like Gang Starr. I handle the majority of his production and I’m also his DJ. The whole team is called GOLD (Gentlemen of Leisure and Development). That’s me and Slim and then we have different managers. Jordan Brown, who does a lot of vocals, and I’d also put RJD2 in there. It’s a whole force.

Me and Slim moved here around 2003. That’s when Slim started rhyming. I got on board with Slim in 2010. I was working at Def Jam and Slim was signed to Def Jam. We knew of each other and had crossed paths.

We all started working together with The Roots. I was really good friends with Dice Raw and Truck North. Then Tariq Trotter (aka Black Thought from The Roots) founded Money Making Jam Boys. I was a DJ for that. Slim was also a part of that. Then we really started connecting.

What is your production process?

In general, it’s me going through records, just digging. A lot of times, it’s not really about chopping up different sounds. It’s about vinyl.

That’s my biggest thing. I need the vinyl.

What makes vinyl so important?

The digital aspect is cool but I come from the vinyl aspect. I come from beat digging in the record store for four or five days. I feel like it’s a lost art.

A lot of people don’t dig because there’s YouTube and Google but I come from the era of vinyl. We would go in from when the record store opened at 9 a.m. to when it closed at 9 p.m.

That might sound crazy but that’s how we used to do it. If you ain’t got the vinyl, you don’t have a hit.

How did you and Slim link up with RJD2?

Gentleman of Leisure and Sound A self-described “audio engineer by craft,” Bear-One has been working with some of the biggest names in Philadelphia for more than a decade. The producer and DJ has been riding a high in 2015 ... and with good reason.

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Where does the name Bear-One stem from?

Oh man, you want to start with that one? Wow, I never really told too many people this ...

As a child, I was infatuated by Winnie the Pooh.

My sister would call me Pooh Bear around the house or whatever. As I got older, like 11 or 12, I was like, “Don’t call me that!” But she kept calling me that. Playing football, she would be like, “Pooh Bear, time for lunch.” People would be in the backyard like, “Who’s Pooh Bear?”

So I dropped the Pooh but I kept Bear. Then I started doing graffiti and I put the “One” on and it just stuck.

When they did RJ's record together, RJ was like, “Well I owe you a track.” Then we did one song, which is called “420.” Slim pinned it and engineered it and RJ made the beat. One song went on to five songs, five songs went to 10. Ten went to 15, 15 went to 20, 20 to 25, and at 25 we had an album, which came out May 5 (with 12 tracks).

You’ve seen a lot of big names come through your studio spaces. What is it like to have Meek Mill or Method Man come in for a session?

It’s love. I worked for Def Jam and was around all these big artists, so it got me to be in the main frame of thinking, “Oh, they’re just like me.

They’re cool, they don’t really trip.”

I met Meek when he was 15. He was a kid.

Working for a major label for eight years prepared me to be with these bigger acts.

- Holli Stephens

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Photo by Grace Dickinson.

The JUMP Off

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Doing It For The Tribe The three members of the rock/blues band ill Fated Natives feed off each other - and the crowd, creating an energy-driven live show.

Some bands are very systematic in how they play shows and write music. ill Fated Natives is not one of those bands. Case in point: The band played an entire show without having a setlist.

“I just said to the crowd, ‘We don’t know what we’re doing. We’re just gonna see what happens,’” says bassist Bets Charmelus with a laugh.

This is the nature of the young band, which formed in 2013. Its members, all in their early to mid 20s, are constantly improvising. They feed off an environment based on feeling and emotion, and the support of their “Love Tribe,” a group of fellow musicians and artists.

The members of the rock/blues band have been playing music most of their lives.

Charmelus and singer O. Thompson attended Central High School together, though they weren’t close. Charmelus admits - apologetically - that he hated Thompson in high school, a fact that still surprises the soft-spoken singer.

“Yeah, why? I was just so quiet,” says Thompson, who hails from Mt. Airy.

Charmelus says he didn’t like Thompson because he was on the football team and Charmelus thought of him as a jock. But one day, Thompson approached Charmelus about getting together to jam.

“I heard this guy turn on his amp and play Jimi (Hendrix)’s version of ‘StarSpangled Banner’ and was like, ‘Man, I can’t hate this guy,’” Charmelus says.

Drummer Joseph “Joey Stix” Pointer later joined the band, forming a power trio.

The members of the band take pride in playing raw, emotional music and also in playing off each other, both in practice and in concert.

“It’s really easy to sit down in front of a keyboard and pull up a program with thousands of instruments at your disposal,” says Charmelus. “You don’t really have three people with different energy getting together and writing and rehearsing, rehearsing, rehearsing. That’s kinda gone the way of the dinosaur. So it’s ill-fated. And at the same time, music comes from live performance. So it’s native.”

The band released its EP, Savages, in March. The album hits hard with dirty blues riffs and flourishes of jazz. It’s easy to see how their music could play well live. And it does, as shown by intense, well-attended performances this year, notably during a residency, dubbed “Electric Church,” at The Fire.

Derek Dorsey, who has been booking and promoting bands at The Fire for a decade, was hooked on the band after seeing them play for the first time.

After a few more performances, Dorsey knew he had to get them in regularly.

“I got to see them when they were still a young band and saw them blossom,” he says. “It was like when John Legend was at The Fire, just him on stage with an acoustic guitar. They’ve really grown.”

Dorsey says the band sold out their first show less than a year after playing their first set at The Fire, a feat he can’t recall happening quicker for a local band. They bring a certain kind of energy, he adds. The band members didn’t wear shirts one night and on another, they played without a setlist.

The ill Fated Natives fans in the Love Tribe sang along at every show.

“It’s a bunch of people who are artistic and putting themselves out there,” Charmelus says of the Tribe. “We all go to each other’s shows and support one another. It’s like coming out and playing a show and being plugged into a battery.

They know all the words and get the rest of the crowd pumped up. That’s family.”

The band also spent time at this year’s SXSW, where they were part of a special Philly-centric showcase.

“It was life changing, an experience,” Thompson says. “It was a perfect five days for us - to have us all together because we had never done a big road trip like this before.”

The band is ready to take off, with more shows and hopes for a full-length album in its near future. And though they are hoping to make an even bigger name for themselves, the band members are still thrilled to play the music they love for the people who love to hear it. That includes themselves.

“I feel like 70 percent of what I’m doing is strictly coming from what they’re doing,” Pointer says of his bandmates. “But the other 30 is the people there. I’m good once I touch my instrument and I can feel the energy from everyone. It’s those connections that make it. If Bets is feeling a little weird that day, I gotta give him the energy to keep going. If we just got this crazy triangle of energy going on, nothing else matters. We feed off each other so much.”

- Dave Miniaci JUMPphilly.com

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The JUMP Off

Lottery Winners

Photo by Rachel Del Sordo.

The members of Edelweiss are spread out around the region but they're finding their home in Philadelphia.

Philadelphia is an appropriate title for electro-infused math-pop group Edelweiss’ upcoming EP. The band spent five days recording the four-song EP in Headroom Studio with Drexel University alumnus Joe Reinhart, and the city is also where drummer Lexi Campion and guitarist Tony Young presently call home.

“We’re as much a Philly band as any of those other bands are,” guitarist and vocalist Niko Porlier says. “A lot of kids know our names, apparently. We’ve just been playing [here] for a couple months.”

Porlier, Young and bassist/vocalist Thomas Vitale grew up together in Stroudsburg, Pennsylvania. Today, Porlier studies liberal arts at LaGuardia Community College in New York, Young studies music industry at Drexel University and Vitale works in New Jersey and lives in both Stroudsburg and New Jersey. Campion grew up in central New Jersey and studies music industry at Drexel.

After small lineup changes throughout the band’s early years, Porlier, Young and Vitale searched for a drummer to finalize the lineup. Drexel professor Ryan Schwabe introduced Young to Campion, who joined the group in October of 2014.

“We hit the frickin’ lottery meeting each other,” Young says.

Edelweiss is each member’s first band.

Young and Vitale learned guitar and bass, respectively, when they joined the band. Porlier says the fact that they don’t have a background in music theory JUMPphilly.com

allows them to write songs without being bound by technical rules.

“We just play what sounds good,” Vitale says.

Bands like Foals, Bloc Party and Arctic Monkeys influenced Edelweiss’ early songwriting and helped the group develop its sound.

The members say their sound sets them apart from other bands in the scene but this individuality also presents them with unique challenges. They often struggle to find shows with similar-sounding bands on the same bill.

“People are really into us,” Campion says. “It’s just like, nobody else is really doing the same thing we’re doing, so it’s a little hard.”

Young says the group often feels like they don’t have a home. Recently, however, Edelweiss has found success in Philadelphia. In February, Edelweiss signed a deal with Drexel-based label Mad Dragon Records and in March, they went into the studio with Reinhart. Mad Dragon Records facilitated the partnership between Edelweiss and Reinhart.

“We could not have been thrown into a better situation, producer-wise,” Campion says.

On the final day of recording, the band entered the studio to put the finishing touches on the EP and did not leave until early the following morning.

“I didn’t sleep that night,” Campion says.

Reinhart, who was a member of Algernon Cadwallader and now plays guitar in Hop Along, left to tour to shortly after wrapping up his time recording with Edelweiss.

“He mixed one of the songs on the road for us,” Young says. “He was very sincere about his time working with us. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed the music.”

After finalizing the lineup, the group has found success as friends and musicians. Edelweiss plans on touring this summer behind the release of Philadelphia. The EP will be the band’s first recording pressed to vinyl.

“Since coming to college, I’ve tried jamming with a couple other people,” Young says. “I know these guys really well and I’ve written with them a lot. I don’t want to work with anybody else.”

- Tim Mulhern

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Two Ponies Ride Again

Photo by Rachel Del Sordo.

A weekly recording project grew into the sarcastic, guitar-heavy band, The Weaks.

After eight hours on the road home from Columbus, Ohio and their biggest tour yet, the members of The Weaks piled out of their rust-red tour van onto a familiar street in the city where it all started.

Guitar rock band The Weaks released their debut LP Bad Year in April. The release date coincided with the band’s month-long tour playing shows with Brand New, Circa Survive and Desaparecidos.

On a Monday in late April, they returned to play their album release show at PhilaMOCA, the venue on 12th near Callowhill Street (see page 27 to learn about the space).

“It’s been a long time coming,” says guitarist, singer and songwriter Chris Baglivo of the release of Bad Year. “We’ve been working on it for a year intermittently. It’s satisfying to have it out, especially in such a big way.”

Baglivo and Evan Bernard, who also plays guitar and sings in the band, founded The Weaks through their “A Song a Week” project they started after their former band, Dangerous Ponies, broke up.

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“Every week we would try to start with a skeleton of a song, usually not much more than chords and a little bit of a melody,” Baglivo says. “We would just grab some people from around the warehouse where we have the recording studio [located in Fishtown] and by the end of the week we would debut it on the radio, WKDU.” Some of the collaborators on Baglivo and Bernard’s songs from the project came from bands like Hop Along, Dogs on Acid and Thin Lips.

With the addition of Bernard’s brother Corey on bass and Mikey Tashjian on drums, The Weaks began like most DIY bands in Philly – playing shows in their friends' basements. It’s a far cry from playing for audiences of up to 4,000 people like on their recent tour, as well as putting out their first full-length on a popular local label.

Lame-O Records, started by Emily Hakes and Eric Osman, has been pressing records for local artists since 2012. The Weaks attribute their recent success to Hakes and Osman, whom Evan Bernard befriended when all three began working at Capogiro in University City.

“It was really cool watching them do that stuff,” says Evan Bernard about Lame-O’s early days.

“So when we had a record, I was like, ‘Hey do you guys want to put this out?’”

“It was like a mutual admiration,” says Osman.

“Evan loved what we were doing and we loved what Evan was doing with The Weaks even more.”

Osman has watched many DIY bands upgrade from basements to major stages over the past few years. However, he feels that big tours don’t

necessarily mean a band has “made it.”

“I think a lot of bands are way more DIY than any tours make them seem,” Osman says. “[The Weaks] were still in their van without a trailer, not making a lot of money.”

Yet, Osman sees a bright future for the band.

“If you write a good enough record, you’re going to be able to do whatever you want with it,” Osman says. “I think we’ve seen that in Philadelphia and with The Weaks.”

The Weaks have a lot going for them but are also not afraid to publicize their sarcastic humor. Their first EP, The World is A Terrible Place & I Hate Myself And Want To Die, is a spoof of the name of DIY band The World is a Beautiful Place & I Am No Longer Afraid to Die. On the new album, Bad Year, they have a song called “Frances Quinlan Will Have Her Revenge On Philadelphia,” referencing the lead singer of Hop Along.

“It’s all out of love baby,” says Evan Bernard.

“Parodies are funny.”

“I play video games with Mark, their drummer, pretty much every day,” Baglivo added.

This air of apathy should not be mistaken as a sign of their work ethic in terms of performance and drive. The Weaks already have their next few albums in the works, as well as tours planned for the rest of the summer.

For now, though, they are happy to be home.

With a shoutout to their moms, The Weaks unload their van into the cramped, garage space on the side of PhilaMOCA and prepare to take the - Jennifer Kerrigan stage yet again.

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The JUMP Off

The Getaway Drivers Attend an all-ages show and you'll find bored parents - usually on smartphones - waiting to take their music-loving children home. Our Michael Bucher caught up with some of them, including one father who takes his kid to local punk shows.

For a teenager, there could be nothing worse than going to a concert with your parents - or to any public place for that matter.

But Robert Campbell III, in protective earmuffs decorated with Angry Birds stickers and a black Mumblr T-shirt that hangs below his knees, isn’t a teenager. He’s only 6.

When most kids are just learning to ride a bike without training wheels, Robert hangs with his parents when he earns tickets for good behavior or grades. About once a month, he gets to see some of his favorite punk acts, including The Orwells, FIDLAR, Twin Peaks and Mumblr.

His interest in music started when he overheard his father listening to The Orwells at home. After Robert investigated the band further on YouTube, he asked his dad if he could see them perform live. The music has been so inspiring for him, particularly the drums, that he’s now practicing the instrument at home with his father’s support.

Eventually the family – Robert III, his father Robert Jr. and mother Tarinee – attended an Orwells show in the basement at First Unitarian Church. His father wasn’t sure what to expect so they stayed in the back. As Robert III sat holding his new vinyl Orwells album, the band passed him on their way outside, noticed the young fan and gave him a fistbump.

According to his father, he was hooked after that.

“I’ve been going to shows since I was a kid,” said Robert Jr., as the family waited for Mumblr to perform at the DIY space Lavender Town. “We used to take the train up to see The Dead Milkmen at house shows like this.”

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Now a quality control technician at a petroleum plant, Robert Jr. grew up in Chester, Pennsylvania, and rebelled against his own father’s strict rules, often sneaking out of the house when his father worked night shifts. This upbringing made him realize that his parents condemning the use of drugs and alcohol not only didn’t prevent him from experimenting but probably made it worse.

Sober now for the last 20 years, he doesn’t want his son making those same mistakes and hopes exposure could diminish the allure.

What actually worried him most about bringing his son to adult shows were the bands’ reactions.

“At first, we thought the bands would be offended that we brought a kid,” he said. “They’re actually flattered you brought your kid there and they know their music.”

At 6 years old, Robert III has at least 10 years until he can drive himself to shows. A lot can change in that time and maybe he won’t want to be seen with his parents at shows anymore.

It’s hard to imagine his mom and dad waiting outside, but many generous parents do just that. The photographs here are of those parents waiting for their kids in or around venues in Philly. facebook.com/JUMPphilly

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Photos by Michael Bucher.

PARENTS JUST DON'T UNDERSTAND: Or maybe they do? Here are parents waiting for their kids at the Electric Factory, the First Unitarian Church and Union Transfer. Robert Campbell Jr. and Robert III attend a Mumblr show at Lavender Town (top right).

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Photos by Michael Bucher.

The JUMP Off

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The JUMP Off

The Scene Stealers Brooke and Will Blair scored films while in college but then they started playing in bands, like East Hundred. They've returned to their roots and they're getting a lot of buzz.

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the younger Blair, says as he opens the door to the studio where older brother Brooke is sitting at the computer, Narragansett pounder in hand.

The two are putting the final touches on the score to an upcoming film by Saulnier, starring the aforementioned Stewart as a Neo-Nazi hunting down a punk band.

The Blairs, natives of northern Virginia, use their history of playing in bands like East Hundred, as well as influences of Philly music, to create their soundtracks.

When they were in college, their friends asked them to score short student films and they built their portfolio over the years. Brooke now lives in Chestnut Hill and Will lives within walking distance of their studio in Fishtown.

“We grew up with Jeremy,” Will says of Saulnier, the director. “As we went to college, we veered off toward music and he was heading toward film. We did all of his short college films and his first feature in 2007. We started looking at it more seriously but we were still busy with band-related stuff.”

“I had my little film posse with [Will and Brooke’s] older brother Macon,” Saulnier says during a phone interview. “They were very talented musicians and they were available and

Photos by Stevie Chris.

Walk into the Blair brothers’ studio on Frankford Avenue and the first thing you’ll notice (after petting the not-so-vicious guard dog) is the multitude of string instruments lining the back wall. After that, it’s the speakers and computer monitors that sit on a desk and two keyboards positioned around the desk. On the computer is an image of Patrick Stewart.

No, the two aren’t watching “Star Trek” while they write music for a new album.

They are composers for award-winning films, documentaries and television programming, creating the sounds and music that add suspense, depth and emotion to a director’s visuals.

Last year was huge for the brothers. IndieWire recognized the duo as Composers to Watch in 2014. Their music for director Jeremy Saulnier’s “Blue Ruin,” which was an official selection at Cannes and Sundance among other film festivals, garnered a Public Choice Nomination from the World Soundtrack Awards and an inclusion in ASCAP's Composer Spotlight, as well as an honorable mention nod on IndieWire's list of the best film scores of the year.

Today, they’re finishing a big project.

“It’s Friday, so we’re enjoying some beers,” Will,

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The two did the score for Saulnier’s short film “Crab Walk” in 2004 and he wanted them to do more. In 2007, when Saulnier did his first feature, “Murder Party,” he brought them on.

“As we built our careers together, they just proved themselves as collaborators,” Saulnier added.

Now they are finishing his third feature, a film Will calls a “punk rock thriller,” which will also premiere at the Cannes Film Festival.

“There’s one scene where feedback almost becomes an instrument, like a deterrent,” Will explains. “The word ‘feedback’ is in the script as a sonic detail.

It appears in different scenes where things are going crazy. We use that as a starting off point.”

To get this sound, Brooke records hours of guitar feedback in the studio.

“It’s like the one thing that you try to avoid in a studio situation,” Will says. “We try to encourage and create and control it. So we had tons of guitar feedback. We got a trombone to feed back and drums to feed back.”

“Also, the sound of it, it has an abrasiveness and a grittiness that goes well with a punk rock sound,” Brooke adds. “You think, ‘Oh, here’s a punk rock film. That’s probably what the score should be.’ But that’s already such a part of the film that our approach was to weave in and out of that as part of the story, but also not be totally noticeable.”

Brooke contrasts what they’re doing on this project to what some might see as a traditional film score, with sweeping orchestras taking over the film, like JUMPphilly.com

John Williams’ epic “Star Wars” soundtrack.

“They’re made to be felt and almost take over a little bit sometimes,” Brooke says. “Sometimes dialogue dies off and they become these moments. We’re kind of doing this the opposite way. We’re still sneaking in melodies here and there but for the most part it’s textural. It’s meant to be there and be felt, but not be overtly obvious.”

Their job is to find the right sound to enhance the emotion and tempo on screen. It changes with each project.

The Blairs believe that they’re currently part of a shift in the industry’s dynamic, with more and more young composers establishing themselves.

With Brooke, 37, and Will, 36, they’re certainly on the lower end of the age spectrum in the industry, but that’s changing at a fast pace.

“I think even like 10 years ago it was rare to see a young composer,” Brooke says. “Especially in, like, old Hollywood stuff. Now, part of it is the advent of home studios and that kind of thing, and being able to pull off that sound outside of an orchestrated Hollywood score, younger guys are getting into the game a little more.”

There are still a few scene cues yet to be crossed out on their whiteboard to-do list. After finishing this Saulnier project, the two are switching gears completely - from the distorted terror soundtrack to a documentary on collegiate swimming. A tub, which will be filled with water for an underwater mic to record the muffled aquatic soundtrack, sits patiently in the corner of the studio.

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The JUMP Off

Still Spreading Fear

Photo by Paul Imburgia.

Population Zero are veterans in the punk scene even though their sound has evolved over the years and their music is hard to classify.

“Drunk rock” is how Population Zero guitarist JM Nagle jokingly describes his band’s sound. But it’s apparent that the description isn’t too far off as members of the Philadelphia-based five piece tear through two Yards six packs – the brewery conveniently located across the street from their practice space.

At a time when metal and punk are becoming increasingly diverse and the mish-mash or fusion of subgenres has become both ubiquitous and somewhat cliché, Population Zero has managed to maintain a truly original and compelling sound. In five years as a band, they have engineered not only non-replicable music but also a diverse lineup of band members that put forth a memorable stage presence.

Despite what their music is ultimately labeled as, the band performs on a calculated and professional level. On record, Population Zero is as tight as their closet-sized rehearsal space. And with good reason, as their rehearsal space is seldom vacant.

Population Zero officially launched and began making music in October 2009 after the demise of Blood Bomber and other acts the bandmates previously played with. But it wasn’t until about a year ago, when vocalist J Russ joined the unit, that they became the band they are today.

Compared to Population Zero’s original, traditional street punk/hardcorestyle vocals, J Russ brought a vicious, screeching vocal style that even gained attention from the world of extreme metal, forcing the band to venture into a sound that was very new to them.

“As soon as I joined the band, I came to one or two practices and things just JUMPphilly.com

clicked,” J Russ says. “It sounded like something new and that’s what I wanted to do. I was getting sick of the same old stuff. I don’t think it was ever really intended. We all kind of found each other. Each of us is the reason we sound the way we do. Each of us has totally different influences.”

“We all played slightly different subgenres before we came together,” adds JM Nagle. “Population Zero is this weird mix of all that.”

Recent lineup changes don’t discredit the fact that Population Zero has been around for a while and they are generally viewed by the scene as veterans.

Drummer Evan Madden says they’ve been through so much that he’s astounded they are even still a band and calls it “a one-in-a-million type situation.”

“We’ve been through all the bullshit that breaks up bands and we’ve survived it,” he says. “This is really a unique lineup. There are five people who each contribute equally and it just so happens to work.”

From a rocky start to disputes over delayed releases to a broken down tour bus, Population Zero have been thrown the book of “shit that breaks bands up,” as Madden sayd, but they have come out unscathed.

“I think we’re at our best when our backs are against the wall,” guitarist Filthy Rich says. “It takes a really special group of people to be able to do that with.”

Amidst a harsh competitive music environment that is Philadelphia, being expected to fail has only strengthened Population Zero in its stride.

“The Philly scene is without a doubt the best on the East Coast,” says bassist Billy Barton. “A lot would say the best in the country. Philly is known as a DIY stronghold. If you’re playing punk or metal, you go to Philly.”

And though the bandmates feel they’ve been spoiled by Philadelphia’s bustling music scene, they’re only focused on the tasks at hand. Madden says their current priorities are touring through the Midwest this summer and getting their first full-length, Fear Campaign, which was recorded live at Permanent Hearing Damage studio, out in the fall.

To their supporters, this is promising news. To their critics, it's a warning: - Paul Imburgia Population Zero does not plan to yield anytime soon.

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Photo by Jessica Flynn.

The JUMP Off

The Case For No Vocals Old Head will entrance you with their technical, instrumental grooves.

It’s unlikely that the three musicians who make up Old Head will ever look the part. Despite all being students at Temple University, they each could reasonably be mistaken for any level of high school student. However, the best thing about preconceived notions is confounding them, and Old Head does just that every time they play.

For a band about to release its first album, Old Head has had the life span of several bands of a greater size. The core group of Connor Fundyga on guitar, Matt Campbell on bass and John Tarquinio on drums has existed for nearly five years. The boys played in bands with names like Sages and Bagged Lunch, traversing genres and band members in their shared hometown of Exeter, Pennsylvania.

The true genesis of Old Head started with a punk band called Black Candy, which slowly but surely morphed into the entrancing and technical instrumental music that they make now.

"I think the shift in our writing was built on the separation of the band after everyone left for school three years ago," Tarquinio explains. "As school went on, practices were split up into three month increments, leaving a lot of material up in the air for reflection."

Nick Ambrosi, a musical and artistic collaborator of the Heads, has seen their transformation in full and refers to the three as “brothers.”

“The development from then to now is undeniably huge,” says Ambrosi, who has done artwork for Old Head, from early demos through to their newest album. “The passion was always the driving element in everything they did and I think that was very evident.”

These years allowed the band to grow in ways many bands don't give themselves the chance to. The band originally had a vocalist who was a verbose punk screamer, leaving Fundyga to feel like the band didn't require a steady singer.

"Having vocals always felt unnatural," Fundyga explains. "The only reason I sang in the first place was to fill the void. I think we always knew we’d end up instrumental. It was just a matter of ensuring the transition would be smooth."

As the punk chords gave way to a more nuanced musicality, Old Head began hitting its stride and playing in various basements of North Philly.

However, drunk college students don't usually make for the best audiences to appreciate long,

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instrumental feats of musical proficiency.

"People feel that if they can't tap their feet to our songs, the music is too confusing and unengaging," says Fundyga. "Yeah, whatever.”

Which brings us to the current day and Stained Glass Stilts, the band's first real album. The song stems were recorded months ago.

"It was hard to express to the engineers how we wanted the songs to come together," says Tarquinio.

"It can be hard to communicate ideas artistically," adds Campbell. "I'd be much more comfortable if the band were in control of every stage of production."

So, Fundyga acquired Pro Tools and the band slowly began the process of mixing the album themselves. The do-it-yourself ethic is apparent in all facets of Old Head, right down to the art work.

“I always felt like my visual [for Old Head] needed to possess a handmade ‘DIY’ aura,” says Ambrosi. “This is something I feel is very present in their music, something with the inability to be replicated with another's hand.”

The Heads finished the album in mid-May after a weeklong stretch behind the mixer, with each member fully entrenched in guiding the

final sound. Songs like “Me-Tooism” evoke a hazy Television-esque groove early on before transitioning into a crescendo Maps & Atlases would be proud of. Half the fun of seeing Old Head live is being struck by the sudden changes in time and feel. The album lives up to the experience.

Lead single “Anchors,” which has been available on their Bandcamp page since February, argues strongly for the case of a vocal-less band. The guitar melody will burrow deep in your head, and as you walk down the street humming it and trying to conjure the words, it will take a while to remember that there aren’t any.

The lads are up in the air over a release date, due to Campbell’s summer-long trip to Germany. “[Connor and I] will write together and focus on adapting the material to other musicians for live performances,” says Tarquinio. “It would be strange to drop such a large album and not be able to play out.”

Regardless of the release date, Old Head continues to follow their own path and not settle in one musical space for too long.

“We’re always in a state of flux,” Fundgya says. “I can’t imagine ever reaching a point where I want - Kevin Stairiker to stay forever.” facebook.com/JUMPphilly

JUMPphilly.com Photo by Rachel Del Sordo.

Photo by Chris Fascenelli.

Music & Education

Soul Spinners Drexel University Music Industry Program students mixed raw material from the old Philly Groove record company, bringing modern clarity to the classic sounds.

An off-yellow painted door is the entryway to Studio 005 in the University Crossings building at Drexel University. Inside, Matt Kleinman, a junior in the music industry program, plays Quickest Way Out's “Ain’t Easy,” a ’70s funk song that he mixed himself. Professor Toby Seay (right) bobs his head along to the track.

This has been a familiar sight since Faith Newman, senior vice president of creative and business development at Reservoir Media, a record label based in New York City, reached out to Seay in 2012 after Reservoir purchased the rights to the Philly Groove audio archives.

Founded in 1967, Philly Groove became one of the most noteworthy record companies of the soul and funk era, hosting artists like The Delfonics and First Choice on its roster and playing an instrumental part in establishing the famed Philadelphia soul sound.

Newman was looking for the recordings, which were partially in Florida.

“When I went to search for the tapes in Florida, there were multi-tracks that didn’t have any corresponding mixes, so we didn’t know what they were supposed to sound like,” says Newman.

Many tracks from the catalog were recorded at the former Sigma Sound Studio in Chinatown.

The tapes had been transferred into Drexel’s possession in 2005 in a single donation, which has come to be known as the Sigma Sound Studios Collection.

Drexel’s music archives are located just down the hall from Studio 005. Due to a leaking pipe, a plastic cover lays across a majority of the tapes for protection. The room feels like a historical music museum with the original Sigma recording light sitting on a shelf alongside quarter-inch tapes of artists like Stevie Wonder and Gladys Knight.

The archives also contain some of the other missing tracks Newman was looking for.

“The first day she called me I said, ‘What opportunities could we possibly think of here?’”

Seay recalls.

Newman and Seay decided that it would be a good learning experience for the students to mix them.

They formulated the idea of enlisting students from both business and technology concentrations to mix the multi-track recordings, and also do press and promotion for them.

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The technology class was labeled an independent study and dubbed “Uncovering the Philly Groove.”

Students each worked with professors on two tracks during their time in the class, meeting weekly as a group, mixing the raw vocal and instrumental tracks.

Kleinman says staying true to the era of the song was a difficult process because of his unfamiliarity with the genre. As a rock producer, none of what he knew really transferred into this project. But the analog recording class he took earlier this year was helpful.

“We studied how recording techniques were in the ’50s, ’60s and ’70s with tape and not having a computer that can be so exact,” he says. “So when I approached it, it was sort of hard to decide if I wanted to approach it with a modern take or to do it the way I think the producer who originally recorded it wanted it to sound.”

For the business side, Drexel music industry professor Marc Offenbach gave students in his Mad Dragon media class – Drexel’s student-run promotion company for Mad Dragon Records – an opportunity to do press and promotion for the Philly Groove project.

“The music and people we were working with were at such a high caliber that it would have been ridiculous to turn down the opportunity,” junior music industry major Brett Wiese says.

The class was split into three groups that each had different projects. The students in his group worked on press releases, event planning and interviews.

At a press event in March, arranged by students in the Mad Dragon class, the newly mixed Philly

Groove tracks were played for the first time to the public. The students brought in Dyana Williams, whose "Soulful Sundays" show airs on 100.3 WRNB. The students also brought in guitarist Bobby Eli from MFSB, which was the studio band for many years, and Sigma Sound’s founder and head sound engineer, Joe Tarsia.

“His reaction was very positive,” Seay says of Tarsia’s response to the tracks. “He thought, basically, what the students had come up with was true to what the songs were, but more clear and had more modern clarity, which he appreciated.”

The project technically ended when the semester ended but already, there is talk of working on other Philly Groove tracks from the archives.

“We are trying to think about what could be the next stage of this,” Seay says. “Could it be another Philly Groove thing with Reservoir or different material from some other company or from the archives here?”

Seay hopes to work with Reservoir again and that other opportunities come about because of this project. He added that it would be ideal to again work in other genres of music that students wouldn’t normally be exposed to.

The students and professors are looking to release the tracks as a compilation through Mad Dragon. Including liner notes and research, Seay says, this may take up to a year.

“It was a real passion project for me,” Newman says. “I’m from Philly and I am a huge, walking encyclopedia of soul music. The deeper I dig into it, the more I found these hidden gems and after almost 50 years. They deserve to be heard.”

- Emily Scott facebook.com/JUMPphilly

Photo by G.W. Miller III.

Music & Politics

The Singing Pol In May, former city councilman Jim Kenney won the Democratic primary to become the party's nominee for mayor in the November general election.

In a town where registered Democratic voters outnumber registered Republicans 7-to-1, Kenney is all but guaranteed to become the next mayor of Philadelphia.

Our G.W. Miller III spoke with the candidate and former Mummer about how he'll handle the arts and culture when he takes office.

Do music and the arts play an important role in Philadelphia?

Absolutely. From preschool to kindergarten, all the way through high school and onward, arts and culture are a tremendous part of a person’s development. It’s sad that the resources to do that in our public schools are limited. We need to try to find innovative ways of getting arts and culture back into the curriculum.

What can government do to make that happen?

Provide resources. Provide innovative ideas to bring together commercial organizations to do this kind of stuff on a non-profit basis. Work with people like the Picasso Project (a project sponsored by Public Citizens for Children + JUMPphilly.com

Youth that brings the arts to public schools), the Art Museum and even individual artists. Dealing with existing artists throughout the city and region who want to volunteer in our schools. We’ll try to provide some resources for them to do that.

And we’ll try to get kids out of the classrooms and into music venues and art venues as much as possible. I think we should be depending upon the principals of our schools to give us some direction of what their needs are and then we’ll go out and try to find the resources – governmentally and philanthropically.

Over the past 20 years, the city has leaned upon the arts and culture for this renaissance we’ve been experiencing. Is there a way to ensure those artists can stay here or show them that they are valued?

We have to make sure we continue to improve the quality of life for everyone, including how much it costs to live here and what opportunities are available to artists. Starving artist is not necessarily a foreign term. We’ve got to figure out ways to keep them working on their craft, in their fields. I don’t have the answers to all those issues but we’re hoping the robust arts and music communities in the city can give us some direction and tell us what we can do to provide those services.

in the city rep’s office or if it rests in the Office of Arts and Culture remains to be seen.

Rather than see arts communities move from neighborhood to neighborhood, is there a way to maintain those creative communities that emerge, like the Frankford Avenue corridor?

I couldn’t stand here and tell you exactly what we can do right now. But again, government shouldn’t be reinventing the wheel. They should be talking to people in the industry, in the business, and learn from the folks who are doing that work.

Has music played an important role in your life?

Music, arts, culture and sports have always been a real uniter of people of different races and different backgrounds.

Do you play any instruments?

No. I sing a little.

What do you sing?

Whatever is in the karaoke machine, usually old stuff.

How do you do that?

So, where Mayor Nutter shows up and sings "Rapper’s Delight," you will sing …

Bring people together. Maintain the Office of Arts, Culture and Creative Economy. There will be an arts and culture presence. Whether that’s

You’re not going to hear me sing that. One thing I can guarantee is that you will not hear "Rapper’s Delight" from me.

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This Place Rocks Photos by Charles Shan Cerrone.

our release show because it's a really friendly atmosphere and kind of our ‘home turf.’ There was a lot of love filling the room and people packed the downstairs and the balcony.”

This same love is what draws Cantatore and her bandmates to perform at Rybrew regularly.

“There is a sense of community and mutual appreciation of live, local music between the audience members and the musicians performing that drives me to keep playing music,” she says Since Rybrew was not originally intended to be a music venue, patrons might be surprised at the lack of a traditional stage. Instead, expect to see bands situated on the sizeable wooden ledge of the large bay window that occupies the storefront. Additionally, patrons might also be surprised at the lack of a standard door charge for concerts. All shows are donation only.

“We don’t have someone at the door,” notes Thomas. “It’s pretty much whatever you can give. But at the same time, you’re more than welcome to come here, drink a beer, eat a sandwich and [not care] about what’s happening on stage.”

What Thomas describes is actually a distinct possibility for anyone who stops in. With more than three hundred beers in stock, more than 20 different sandwiches and a selection of salads and soups, one can easily be swept away

Brewerytown's Hub With music, beer and food, Rybrew has become a gathering spot for locals.

“It’s not your typical venue feel,” says store manager Patrick Thomas, sitting with a cup of coffee in hand at the end of a polished pine table as he talks about the local music scene and how Rybrew – located at 2816 W. Girard Ave. – fits in.

Housed within the interior of what was once a toy store, Rybrew quickly became a popular point of interest in the perennially up-and-coming neighborhood of Brewerytown. It’s a place where one can come in for a beer and a sandwich and, on certain nights, catch an intimate show from local and touring acts.

Thomas (above) has worked at Rybrew for just shy of a year but within the past few months has taken the lead on finding and booking bands to play at the eatery. Rybrew has hosted several shows in its two-year existence but only since Thomas took over have concerts been consistently booked and played.

Now, on a daily basis, he receives inquiries from bands looking to perform.

“What I want to do here,” Thomas says as he adjusts the safety pin dangling through his right ear, “is just to get people around the city to know that if you don’t have a place to play, you can play here.”

Bi-weekly open mic nights have helped solidify a loyal following of fans. The momentum from shows has only furthered Rybrew’s image as an attractive place for up-and-coming acts to showcase their talent. Philly-based progressive pop act Flounder Warehouse performed at one of the first shows at Rybrew in March of 2014. Since then, the Brewerytown eatery has become a regular spot on Flounder Warehouse’s performance schedule, which made it the logical spot for the band to host the release party for their debut album in May. “It was really important that we have it at the right place,” says Seann Cantatore, frontwoman of Flounder Warehouse. “It was the best choice for

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in the sea of enticing options.

Rybrew is owned and operated by Ryan and Stephanie Pollock but being café owners wasn’t always at the front of their minds. The Pollocks were previously architects working in the Washington D.C. area. They lost their jobs at the start of the economic recession. Seeing this as an opportunity in disguise, the couple went on an “unemployment roadtrip” around the country. Inspired by the numerous cafés and sandwich shops they encountered on the trip, the duo decided to move back to their hometown of Philadelphia and open their own café, devising a menu of sandwiches inspired by the cities they visited.

The first café they opened was Rybread, in 2010. Though small in size, Rybread quickly became a popular place to eat in Fairmount. They expanded that business to catering. With the popularity of Rybread growing and a desire to expand on their original concept, the Pollocks opened Rybrew in 2013.

In two years of operation, Rybrew has become a popular destination in the neighborhood.

“It’s a real family atmosphere here,” says Stephanie Pollock. “We’re on a first name basis with most of our customers. It’s like serving your friends.”

After almost a year of operating Rybrew, it became apparent that several members of the staff were involved in the Philly music scene and looking for new places to play. Seeing this as another opportunity to expand the business, Rybrew began hosting shows in the winter of 2014. But as Pollock is quick to point out, the success of shows at Rybrew pays a large debt to Thomas’ dedication.

“Patrick has been really influential on organizing everything,” she says. “He has a lot of great connections in the music scene.”

Rybrew’s status as a Philly music venue is still in the early stages but based on feedback and booking interest, Thomas is optimistic for the eatery’s success as an outlet for artists in Brewerytown and beyond.

“As far as this area goes, there’s not a lot of places to see low-key music,” he says. “There’s North Star but that’s like big productions and that sort of thing.

- Dan Halma At this point, this is, like, a big hub for Brewerytown.” facebook.com/JUMPphilly

Photos by Michael Bucher.

The Unlimited Art Space

PhilaMOCA offers a wide array of arts and culture, thanks to the man who runs the place, Eric Bresler.

For those who have not been to PhilaMOCA, you may have at least stumbled down Spring Garden Street one night and noticed the fantastic mural and homage to David Lynch’s Eraserhead painted on an exterior wall.

This flexible art/performance space at 531 N. 12th St. is carved out of a former mausoleum showroom and unique to the Philly arts and culture scene.

In an age of house and converted factory shows, PhilaMOCA is sort of a hybrid of the two. That is, PhilaMOCA is a place where art, music and film coalesce under what PhilaMOCA curator Eric Bresler calls “organizational madness.”

JUMPphilly.com

Bresler, a former South Philly punk rocker and lover of the arts, also uses terms like “living room” and “welcoming” in conjunction with

“professional” to express the ethos of the space, where the Mad Decent Block Party originated and Diplo and his crew threw countless parties over the years (fun fact: he still owns the building).

It is obvious that Bresler wants patrons to feel welcome and even a part of PhilaMOCA. The door is often open at 3 p.m. on a Wednesday for people to come hang out as a parade of volunteers and community members come and go. These artists and friends seem to be the life-blood of the space. Funded completely by the revenue generated by shows and kept going with the passion of its interns and volunteers, the space plays into a Felliniesque atmosphere.

Bresler’s DIY and art-focused roots are a welcome part of the greater Philly music scene.

Still, one may soon realize that he has moved past a singular idea of what makes a great show or piece of art. He is quick to note that they schedule events five nights per week and that each event will often bring a completely different audience.

This is all made more tactile by the relatively small, intimate space. Filled with posters of past shows and creative works, including a limited edition baby Eraserhead doll, the space is professionally developed, yet remains open and chaotic. Lineage is easily acknowledged for this post No Wave, DADA revival art inspired experiment.

Artists such as No Age, Lydia Lunch, Parquet Courts, The Pizza Underground (Macaulay Culkin's pizza-themed Velvet Underground cover band), Hop Along, Modern Baseball and Steven Severin from Siouxsie and the Banshees have all played the space.

“My favorite ever was post-punk legends The Monochrome Set,” says Bresler of his most cherished performance in the space. “It was their first U.S. tour in over 30 years,” PhilaMOCA is also a place for outsider art but you are just as likely to see a great hip-hop show one night and an LGBT film festival the next.

Limits are not a part of Bresler’s vocabulary. This is not one place. It is an almost blank canvas that he allows the performers and artists to paint.

This is indeed a collaborative environment. For example, many of the shows that come to the space are booked by R5 productions.

“The space is great,” says Andy Nelson, an R5 promoter who is also the bassist for Paint It Black.

“We continue to remain a part of what’s going on there. It’s great that there is a place for all-age shows. I think that the space fills a need.”

PhilaMOCA has even adopted a local youth as an integral part of their space. “Lil” Sean Coleman is PhilaMOCA’s 12-year-old neighbor, who can sometimes be seen riding into the space on his skateboard and just hanging out. He has even recently screened his own film.

The greater music and arts scene has been equally responsive.

“We get a lot of names that just come to see events but we don't usually mention them, like Kurt Vile, Talib Kweli,” Bresler says.

Nevertheless, this is just an extension of the sense of community surrounding the space. This idea of a diversity of acts, small space, true fans and everything in-between highlights why the space works.

- Justin Dowdall

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Cover Story

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SYLO Brady Ettinger, known better as DJ SYLO, is throwing some of the best parties in the city.

Story by Tyler Horst.

Photo by Charles Shan Cerrone.

I

n an unlit corner of Alessandro's Pizza & Grill on North Broad Street, Brady Ettinger sets up the kind of massive speakers you would expect to find at a club. It's early on a Saturday night and the restaurant is empty. For now.

“We're expecting to see three to four hundred people come through tonight,” he says, unwinding an XLR cable and attaching it to a speaker.

No, three to four hundred people aren't coming just for a bite to eat. The pizza at Alessandro's is good but patrons who don't already know what's up for tonight will find a lot more than just tasty pie. Ettinger, who is better known by his DJ name SYLO, is throwing a party. Along with his friends and compatriots in STUNTLOCO, the party crew he started at Silk City, SYLO is holding the 10th installment of the Pizza Party, which is exactly what it sounds like. Starting at 10 p.m., Alessandro's will transform from an unassuming pizza parlor to a nightclub that also serves free pizza. Though the last few installments have been garnering plenty of buzz online, SYLO says he refrained from announcing the details on this one until just a week before the date. For him, it's all about cultivating an underground feel.

If this all sounds like many a millennial's dream it's because SYLO, 23, has been deeply involved in the nightlife and party scene for years and he knows his audience. He's put in so much work that he doesn't have to do anything else for money. DJing is his one and only occupation.

For now, SYLO has to make sure everything is right. He checks his watch and runs a hand through his platinum hair. There's still time to grab a few things from his place that he forgot.

SYLO exits the building and walks up Ridge Avenue at a fast clip.

“Our generation is harder to trick,” he says, darting quickly across the street to avoid traffic. “Everyone is more media-literate. They know when something isn't real.”

Being a poseur is not something that has ever been on DJ SYLO's agenda. Though he believes his STUNTLOCO brand is on the verge of breaking out into the big-time, SYLO's biggest hope is that it always maintains a grassroots mentality. He talks more about his goals in a collective sense, desiring success not just for himself but for the people in the STUNTLOCO “movement.” That doesn't mean SYLO hasn't given some thought to how he'd like his own name to be perceived.

“I'm not trying to be the best DJ,” he says, “but what I am trying to be is undeniably unique.”

party at his place, bought a whole bunch of pizza, texted a few friends and the rest is history. At this point in his career, SYLO may spend plenty of time spinning at more established venues like the 700 Club but his artistic ethos was formed out of the sweaty basements and tight spaces of house parties.

SYLO grew up in Maryland, where he got his first turntable at the age of 17. He DJed his first house party while in high school. His first exposure to the Philadelphia scene was through the world of college parties.

“I feel like I moved from Maryland to Temple,” SYLO says about his migration from his home state to the city of Philadelphia.

He came to Temple University to study media studies and production and learn more about the technical aspects of audio, but fashioned himself a more personal curriculum in the DJ profession by spending most of his free time hosting or planning parties off-campus.

It didn't take long for his roots to grow well past the college scene. In the seven years he's been a part of the city, SYLO has woven himself into the community so much that he has started to become a landmark in his own right.

heating up, MC for the night Fidel pops in an old VHS tape of the Michael Jordan documentary “Come Fly With Me” to display on the old TV they plugged in and propped up on a table.

“We used to play young bol shit like ‘Land Before Time’ — classic ’90s stuff,” Fidel explains over the thumping of the speakers. “Now we're trying to make it more adult.”

Fidel, born Matthew Ford, is SYLO's selfproclaimed “partner in crime.” Their relationship is a creative one. SYLO and Fidel refuse to define it in any concrete terms—they just kind of go together as a package deal. They throw out names like “Jay-Z and Kanye,” “Simon and Garfunkel” and “Siegfried and Roy” to describe the nature of their relationship. They're not only friends but also huge admirers of each other's work.

“It brings every type of person together,” Fidel says about SYLO's parties. “SYLO brings them all together. They don't want any drama. They just want to coexist.”

BREAKS

OUT L

ike everything else in his career, the Pizza Party concept started as a house party.

SYLO asked a friend if he could throw a

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t's approaching 11 p.m. and SYLO, as excited to be here as anyone else, dances around the faux-Renaissance architecture in the dining room of Alessandro's with a pizza box in hand. He slides happily into the midst of some young ladies in full party attire, flips open the lid and offers up a slice. The ladies smile and dig in, some of them leaning in for a friendly hug. After the brief encounter, SYLO floats off somewhere else.

“As a local DJ in the city you came up in, you're kind of like a community leader,” he says.

A lot of the people here tonight either know him or know of him. It's not the 400 they were expecting but there are a lot of people.

You'd think any sane restaurant owner would be terrified by the idea of letting some kids run wild in their establishment but Alessandro's owner George Tzinas has been smiling the entire night.

“The important thing about this is that the group has such good energy,” he says. “There are never any problems.”

To hear Tzinas tell it, the story behind the Pizza Party's move to Alessandro's is that SYLO simply walked in one day and pitched the idea. SYLO says he had been out skating on Broad Street and stopped in for something to eat. He found the ample space in the dining area and side room with a bar. He came up with the idea on the spot.

It was too much for him to pass up.

SYLO's set starts at midnight. With things

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s he thinks about what music he might play tonight, SYLO says his choices change depending on the space. His forte is hip-hop but he's been expanding his palate with more house music. For tonight, he thinks he'll “try more weird stuff” because the event is a little more exclusive.

He's also been working on his own original music, some of which he plans to throw in to his list for the evening. Watching a human body move to his own composition is much more telling feedback to SYLO than a comment online. He's excited to test out his new tracks but nervous at the same time.

“I know every twist and turn in the song,” says SYLO, “but seeing people react for the first time is amazing.”

As someone whose self-appointed job is to make sure other people have the night of their life, SYLO stresses the importance of focus while standing behind a turntable.

“You have to stay smooth as a DJ,” he says. “You can't get too excited or you'll get distracted. You have to take all the energy and hold it in your gut.”

As SYLO finally gets behind the table, his night is just beginning. He goes right from his set to an after-hour party somewhere else, where he says he'll keep going for as long as the people want.

When things finally do die down, the sun is already beginning to peek up on the horizon.

SYLO has time for a quick nap, then another gig at the Dr. Martens store at 1 p.m. He's tired but only because his body says he's supposed to be.

“Yo,” he says with a smile. “Tonight was crazy.”

Cover Story

NEXT GENERATION JOIE KATHOS THE

OF

Story by Brianna Spause.

Photos by Brae Howard.

J

oie Kathos scheduled herself some downtime to create on a warm Wednesday afternoon in West Philadelphia.

“This used to be my sister’s room,” she says, eyeing up the fresh coat of forest green paint dressing the walls of her home studio.

A soft, April sunlight bounces in the open window upstairs in the house Kathos grew up in.

“It’s minimal but it allows me to do what I need to do,” she says with a quick glance around the room, her absorbed expression reflected in an Apple monitor.

Flanked by speakers, a cherished old Maschine MPC mixer and a keyboard all linked up and ready to go, the 23-year-old Kathos, whose given name is Jordan Shannon, transforms herself in this familiar space.

With origins in French and Greek respectively, the fierce young businesswoman’s adopted moniker translates to “With joy, I am.”

“Joie is the Beyonce for Jordan,” Kathos says, shedding light on her growing brand. “She comes in, works hard and takes no BS from anybody. She’s not afraid to speak her mind or challenge the normalities that people set in society.”

Kathos burst onto the scene a mere two years ago with a self-titled EP that

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landed her the title of the 2013 Philly Hip Hop Awards’ Best New Female Artist. Though in the process of establishing her young music career, Kathos has spent her entire lifetime on stage – finding her roots in dance at age 3. Through a repertoire of talents like production, songwriting, acting, choreography and teaching, she has emerged as the powerhouse behind the entrepreneurial venture Joie Kathos, LLC. “Hold up, I’ll be down in a minute,” Kathos speaks quickly into her iPhone.

Kathos returns with Jacqueline Constance in tow, the 26-year-old singer sporting a full-faced smile and a loud sweater.

Kathos and Constance met last year on the set of The Queens Village, a monthly performance series at Voltage Lounge that celebrates sisterhood in the Philadelphia music scene. The featured artists became fast friends, bonding over what Constance calls “a really cool artistic synergy,” which is evident in their latest collaboration.

“Win or Lose,” is a socially conscious track from Kathos’ second EP, FLOATERS, which will be available online for free off an independent release in July. Inspired by the All Lives Matter movement, the hip-hop track facebook.com/JUMPphilly

JUMPphilly.com

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illustrates a core value of Kathos’ music – a diagnoses of how individuals in today’s society treat one another. The protests in Baltimore over the death of Freddie Gray were a timely example Kathos cited. News coverage of the events had just begun to roll out that week as she spoke firmly about the deepseated change the country needs to face.

“I let everybody know from the rip that I’m just about peace and positivity,” Kathos says. “It just comes out in my music without me even really thinking about it because I try to stay true to myself. Honestly, I'm disappointed in what I see happening in the world today.”

Kathos goes on, describing how the human race is on the cusp of a renaissance period. Her blend of alternative hip-hop is crafted with the intention to inspire positivity while retaining easy listening qualities.

“Hopefully my music will contribute to the spark of change we all seem to be crying out for as a people,” she says.

To Kathos, it’s all about balance. She aims not to produce tracks that are too heavy, but rather keep it real.

Russell Shannon, Kathos’ father and manager, views her music as a labor of passion. “[The message] she projects in her music is how she is in real life, out with her friends,” Shannon says. “She’s of a conscious level where she wants people to think about what is going on in society. She doesn’t want the young brothers and sisters to feel like they have to go ahead with the norms of what’s going on in the neighborhood.”

A lifetime resident of West Philadelphia, Shannon cites examples of drugs, teenage pregnancy and violence as pieces of a perpetual cycle which Kathos targets lyrically.

“Her whole life is geared around making a difference and she’s showing it,” he says. “She proves it on a regular basis.”

W

ith Logic software stretching across her monitor, Kathos runs the beat she has been playing around with for a new music video on repeat. She and Constance mindlessly sing along as they gather themselves to record, Constance pulling out a smooth harmony as she struggles with a tangled chord.

“This is an illustration of my life,” she murmurs, locking eyes with Kathos for a belly laugh.

Laying down the lyrics takes several tries as Kathos listens to the playback with eyes closed, executing subtle dance moves as if the choreography was already brewing.

“I’ll do it until I have it,” she says.

“That’s great, that’s a great trait to have,” Constance, with a background in musical training, says. “Go crazy.”

Kathos, a raw talent with no musical training, gracefully takes direction from Constance - “Be more buoyant,” “Pick up the lazy tongue,” “Think less vertically and more horizontally” – until a solid amount of progress on the track has been nailed down.

Eyes on the clock, Kathos begins to gather her things to head out into rush hour traffic.

“So this is what I do during the day,” she says, her hands up in the air, embracing the silence in the studio as the computer sleeps. “The dancing is what I do at night.

“It’s not my full focus anymore, but it’s definitely a huge part of my branding and who I am,” she adds over her shoulder as the front door clambers shut.

“Dancing adds a completely different element to my stage performances and it’s something I’m very comfortable and confident in.”

K

athos begins to stretch on the hardwood floor of Studio A. It is 5:58 p.m. and the intermediate dance workshop she teaches on Mondays and Wednesdays at Millennium Dance Complex is about to begin.

Two young dancers mill in – one male, one female. A small crowd for a Wednesday, Kathos says, as she usually works with eight to 10 students for the general admission class. Though a little extra cash never hurts, Kathos teaches classes at the studio in pursuit of her lifelong passion. Instructors at Millennium can take one another’s classes for free, an opportunity Kathos utilizes to stay sharp.

“She has always had a drive to learn new things,” Shannon says.

It's a trait he attributes to Kathos’s growing success as a performer and

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a quality in high demand in the field of dance, where new rhythms and techniques are consistently changing the pace.

As for her role as a teacher, Shannon added with a laugh, “Joie strives for perfection.”

The instruction is slow and thorough at first, as Kathos runs down sharp movements to Kendrick Lamar’s “Alright.” Her face lights up when she watches her two students execute the sequence perfectly for the first time, about half an hour into the hip-hop class. Almost simultaneously, they jump backwards and throw their arms out in celebration.

“Yes! Y’all are working today!” Kathos offers.

On a constant repeat, the dancers run through the routine while watching themselves intently in the mirror, their focus evident in a cool and confident manner. Long shadows race across the studio floor, visible to the public through a wall of windows. A constantly rotating crowd of onlookers strolling down South Street halt, mesmerized by the routine as it unfolds.

“It’s crazy, her work ethic,” Constance says, watching the workshop from the lobby. “I’m surprised she actually finds time to work on music with me.

She does so much between teaching and gigging, sound production for dance studios and choreographing. She probably works harder than a lot of Philly artists – well, artists period. She’s really into building her brand and she’ll do whatever she needs to build it into something beautiful and positive.”

As an independent artist, Kathos funnels the majority of her time into creative outlets to promote the Joie Kathos brand. Despite a jam-packed schedule and each end of the entertainment industry pulling her in different directions, Kathos is dedicated to producing a quality product.

“I give 110 percent to everything,” Kathos says confidently. “I can’t fluff it because my name is attached to that and it’s a part of me.”

Sheer dedication to her craft is a trait that is easily noticed by those working with Kathos.

“Her work ethic is what is going to make her successful,” Shannon says.

“Whatever it is that she’s trying to do, she works hard at it and she does it until she feels like it’s perfect. Eventually, that perfection comes out on stage in her performances.”

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t a young age, Kathos laid her dreams out on the table and she's been chasing them ever since.

“Growing up, I wanted to be everything,” Kathos says. “For the most part, I knew I wanted to be a rapper. I knew that since I was 9. I had dreams of touring the world doing modern dance but my body was like, ‘No, you’re not made for this.’”

Kathos had put in years of training in ballet, tap, jazz and hip-hop, taking on a specialized dance curriculum at William Meredith Middle School and the Philadelphia High School for Creative and Performing Arts (CAPA). At the ripe age of 17 – about to accept the role of dance captain going into her senior year – Kathos began to experience crippling pain in her right hip that kept her from being able to make it across the floor.

A few trips to the doctor uncovered the resounding effect of a jungle gym accident in her formative years. As a result, Kathos does not have full hip rotation on her right side, which is vital to perfecting bodylines and turnouts in a dance career.

It was time for her to make a decision. Pursuing a professional career in ballet or modern dance could have meant a lifetime of pain, Kathos remembers.

“After I got injured, my focus switched to music really heavily because I was mourning over never being able to dance again,” she says. “Music was really therapeutic and I felt really happy, like this was all I ever wanted to do.”

Equipped with a soundboard and laptop, Kathos had already begun producing music by the time her flexibility injury brought years of career planning to a halt. Shannon recalls that time as a difficult one for Kathos.

“When things go crazy for her, she really focuses on something,” he says. “Music was what she focused on. It was a smooth transition through a rough time.”

As she has grown into her music career, Kathos has found a way to incorporate her first true love with her new career path by creating a memorable stage presence.

“Dancing is a crucial part of my live performance. You get the full experience,” Kathos says while making jokes about “just standing up there, holding your pants and doing the old ‘wish-wash’ hand thing.”

“I think that Joie is a rare breed, one-of-a-kind type of artist,” says DJ Bearfacebook.com/JUMPphilly

Cover Story

One, who has been working with Kathos as a sound engineer and DJ for the past eight months.

As a partner on stage, Bear-One has been impressed with “the way she switches from MCing to singing and her dance moves.”

“That's a move MCs used to do back in the day,” he adds. “You had to entertain, not just stand around with a bunch of people on stage. You had to rock the party. I love her energy and we're just getting started. Wait for it!”

T

hick smoke rises from Clark Park in early May and the smell of sweet, sweet free barbeque fills the air. A small crowd has formed for the 2015 May Day Rally, a celebration of “Socialization, Solidarity and Humanity,” a gathering of labor unions and members of the $15-an-hour movement, to let their voices be heard.

Kathos performed at May Day in 2014 and had been invited back to the festival this year in acknowledgement of her insightful lyrics and firm stance on equality. As 4:30 p.m. rolls around, Kathos jumps on stage with an electric disposition, captivating the audience seated below. In a commanding tone she raps, “Join us as we take back our history and continue to fight for the dignity and rights of the voters.”

In addressing the issues at hand, the audience receives her words well by nodding and clapping along.

“Say it girl,” rings out from different sides.

As four dancers join the stage, the dynamic of the performance is transformed. Confidence is displayed in between calculated movements as Kathos performs with a gleaming smile. Three of the five performers, including Kathos, don T-shirts with an intricate “Think Nation” logo.

Think Nation is Kathos' newest venture, a clothing line designed to inspire the wearer to promote positivity amongst young people. Shannon’s childhood friends Sean Byrd and Lamont Turner had goals for a clothing line and those goals aligned with Kathos’ mission as an artist.

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Growing up, Byrd notes, Kathos was, “musically inclined and liked to dance but I never thought we would be business partners until I decided to launch a clothing line.”

After attending one of Kathos’ performances in 2014, his vision of a young girl in tap shoes was forever changed.

“She doesn’t follow the crowd, she does her own thing,” Byrd says of the quality which makes Kathos a fine leader of Think Nation. “She doesn’t care what anybody thinks. Basically, what she does is she does everything in a positive mindset. That’s what I like about her. She could be out there doing everything that everyone else is doing but she’s not. She’s going in a different direction.”

This past year, Kathos adopted the Think Nation look by repping the brand on stage as a leader of positivity and change. The line will officially launch at the unofficial release party for Kathos' new EP at the Theater of Living Arts on July 11, Byrd says.

Kathos’ music clearly defines the goals of the clothing line. Standing apart from hip-hop artists who “just talk about clothes and money and cars” has always been a goal for Kathos’ brand, she says.

Twenty-three and so long to go, Kathos has been grinding her own groove into Philly’s hip-hop scene. A seamless culmination of dance and music with a social conscious is brewing within this West Philadelphia MC, all of which came from a negative possibility.

When Kathos couldn’t pursue dance as a professional career, she refused to extinguish her creative voice.

“Never give up on anything you have the slightest idea that you can achieve,” Kathos says as a note to aspiring female artists. “Learn. Do. Be proactive and consistent. Even if other people don’t see the vision or don’t believe in it but you believe in it, it can happen. Your path is yours and your story is important in more ways than one.”

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Cover Story

THE

PHILLY GIRL SPEAKS HER

MIND Interview by Niesha Miller.

Photo by Michael Bucher.

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JUMPphilly.com

J

azmine Sullivan began performing when she was just a teenager. She garnered a huge fan base after the 2008 release of her debut single “Need U Bad,” which was produced by Missy Elliott. Her first album, Fearless, went to number one on the Billboard R&B charts. Her second album, Love Me Back, was also a smash success.

In 2011, however, the graduate of the High School for the Creative and Performing Arts told her fans in a series of tweets that she was taking a break from music because she wanted to find out who she was without “a mic, paper or pen.” Last year, she revealed that she stopped doing music because she was in the middle of ending an abusive relationship.

Her hiatus was filled with a lot of family time, writing and praying.

Last spring, Sullivan, now 28, returned to music with a new album, called Reality Show. Meek Mill rhymes on a track - the North Philly rapper happened to stop by Sullivan's session after recording in another studio at Milkboy.

We spoke with the “Stupid Girls” singer about her musical roots, working with music professionals from Philadelphia and why she considers herself a regular girl.

letting people know that they're not alone with whatever they're struggling with. There are some things that I keep to myself but for the most part, when I'm experiencing it and I'm working my way through it, I almost feel like it's my duty to talk about it and possibly help somebody else.

What role would you say Philly played in helping you break into music?

Philly producers Dilemma and Joe Logic produced "Stupid Girls." Do you actively reach out to work with people from Philly?

I went to Black Lily when I was younger, so I got a chance to really hone in on my live performance skills watching Kindred, Jaguar Wright, The Roots and Jill Scott. And all of them, all of those people who came through when I was just a kid, definitely helped me with being comfortable now with singing live.

Would you say any of those individuals served as a mentor for you after you got involved in Philly's music scene?

Well, Kindred, I would say, was the most influential when it came to me because they really took me under their wing and actually put me on their record [I AM]. That was the first record I was ever on. Their first one. And they were like the big brother and sister. But just all of them. Being able to see everybody perform was helping me to become the entertainer I am now.

Our theme for this issue of JUMP is " Young Bols and Old Heads." What old heads would you say helped you get to where you are today in music?

I don't know if my mom would want me to call her an old head but definitely my mom. She's the most influential person ever. Everything that I do, I kind of model after her. She's like the most creative person that I have ever known.

I've always just tried to emulate her and just kind of follow in her footsteps.

She actually used to write my songs when I was younger. I got to a point where I was like, "You know what? I want to try this." Then I started writing because of her. She did it first.

Do you have any other people in your family that were influential musically?

My grandma. She was a playwright. I mean, my mom was a playwright. My grandma was a poet. I grew up around women who weren't afraid to express themselves. I don't know if I was thinking about it earlier but once I did start thinking about it, I had people to look up to.

You said the women in your life helped you express yourself more. How would you say that played a role in the lyrics that you write?

They're just real. I just try to write stuff that I've been through. It's not sugarcoated or anything like that. I get that not only from my family but just from being a Philly girl. We just say how we feel and it's kind of how I write.

On your latest album, Reality Show, you released a few intimate details about a previous relationship. What made you want to tell such intimate stories about yourself?

I noticed a few favorite songs of fans that stand out on the album are "Stupid Girls" and "Brand New." What inspired you to write "Brand New?" I was just observing some rappers and their lifestyles. I was just looking and seeing that it didn't seem right. It just didn't seem like the women that they started with were the women that were on their arms, you know? Once men blow up, they kind of upgrade in every kind of way. I just felt like there was a story that needed to be told for the regular women. I'm an artist and some people may consider me a star but I identify mostly with regular women because I don't look like the typical "star" and I don't sound like the typical star. I just felt like that story needed to be told on their behalf. On our behalf.

My whole band is from Philly. Joe was actually my engineer for like two years.

We worked on the record and I didn't even know he produced. So, we started getting to the end of the record and ... he kind of felt like he knew what it was that I had been missing. I was coming in the studio and he had, I think, not "Stupid Girls." It was another song playing. And I was like, "This is dope. What is this?" He was like, "Oh, this is mine." I was like, "I ain't know you produced."

I just started listening to stuff and it just happened naturally. That's the kind of thing I like. I like when it's natural. It's not forced. And we spend so much time together just recording and goofing around and being friends.

"Stupid Girls" has a bit of that bluesy-jazzy flare. Would you say performing at the Black Lily helped shape your sound?

After hearing so much neo-soul every week, it definitely influenced the way I sounded and performed. It might still have an influence in the way I sound now but I think now, because I'm older, I'm able to draw from different influences. It's not just neo-soul. It's R&B. It's gospel. It's jazz. It's hip-hop.

It's everything that I've listened to growing up.

What's your favorite Black Lily memory?

My mom used to have these themes for the night. She used to dress me up in these costumes. So I started becoming known not only for my singing but my costumes that my mom would put me in. I would hate it so much.

You're honest about your relationship in your music and in interviews. What made you want to incorporate your life into your performances?

My songs are a reflection of my life. When I'm on stage I have the chance to talk to people about my songs and what I've been through, so I just take that opportunity to do it.

What is it like performing for your hometown?

It's amazing. You have your family in the audience. You have your friends in the audience. And just people who watched you grow up. It all just feels like family. After you go different places, you get love from different places because everyone's a fan that comes to your show. But when you're around people who watched you grow up, it just feels a lot more personal.

First of all, it's therapeutic for me. It's helpful for me and I think sometimes we go through some things to share it and to possibly help somebody else. Just

JUMPphilly.com

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facebook.com/JUMPphilly

MANNEQUIN PUSSY SILLY PHILLY GETS

IN

It's been less than a year since the band relocated to Philadelphia from New York and already, they've come to appreciate the freedom and community our city offers.

Story by Brian Wilensky.

Photos by Michael Bucher.

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here’s a conversation happening in the basement of Marisa Dabice’s house in West Philly. The singer and guitarist for Mannequin Pussy and Thanasi Paul, the band's other guitar player, are discussing the logistics of getting to an upcoming gig in the Boston area with drummer Kaleen Reading. Whose car is available? Who’s down to drive? It’s mid-April and it’s five hours to Beantown, but no one’s concerned about the trip just yet because the show isn’t until May. The next issue on the docket is about playing a birthday party.

“I’m always down to play,” says Paul.

A few snags in their schedule are discussed. It’s not looking good for the party.

After setting up the drum set and plugging in and tuning their guitars, the band blasts through a couple new and a couple old songs, only stopping momentarily to try out a different length for one of the new songs’ verses.

“Let’s try that part four times instead of two,” offers Dabice while playing through the verse.

However, she isn’t singing at practice tonight because she’s been sporadically fighting off bronchitis for days, maybe weeks. In the wake of her ailment, Kat Bean of the post-punk trio Amanda X fills in on vocals for “Clue Juice” at their gig at Everybody Hits less than a week later because Dabice still feels under the weather.

Dabice and Paul, who have known each other since they were five years old, play the song at the practice with Reading, working through its adjusted structure with ease as if it’d never been changed. It shows that this is a tune they’ve been woodshedding for a while. Actually, they were prepping these

JUMPphilly.com

new songs for a recording session they just wrapped up at Kensington’s Headroom Studio for a split EP with Amanda X to be released later this year.

The practice is quick and they head back upstairs, past Dabice’s roommates in the kitchen, where something garlicky is sizzling in a frying pan. It’s raining outside and a cop car flies down the street with its lights ablaze. Each of the bandmates takes a spot on the front porch, which is mostly bare aside from a snow shovel and a chair that Dabice helps herself to. Each of the three seem comfortable, as if this is where they belong and they don’t want to be anywhere else.

That attitude may apply to where Mannequin Pussy is at the moment for the band as whole, but also as a band relatively new to Philly. Dabice and Paul moved to Philly last summer and fall, respectively, whereas Reading lives in New Jersey. Dabice and Paul started the band as a two-piece in New York City around 2011. They then met Reading and brought her in to move Paul out from behind the drum set to play guitar, the instrument he’s more comfortable with, in 2013. Even being just shy of living in Philly for a year, the bandmates already feel the advantages to the new city.

“It was after our first tour that the second we got back to New York, we realized how everyone else lives in the rest of the country,” says Dabice about the cost of living in New York City. “It was like that slap in the face. ‘What am I doing?’ Especially when you really want to be free to create something and continually keep working.”

Being able to live in a city she can afford is critical for Dabice since she’s a

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musician who writes not only for the cathartic release but also for connecting with those who listen to her play.

“The act of wanting to create something really drives you insane,” she continues after a pause, as if to consider every word. “If you desire to do something but you’re not actively doing it, then you’re feeling like a failure before you even start. And I got to this point in New York that I felt so creatively atrophied because my mind was on everything else. But I still had this desire to perform and to write music.”

D

espite the ongoing degeneration she was experiencing in New York, Dabice still found some time to write with Paul. Many of the songs on their neckbreaking debut album Gypsy Pervert, a 10-song blast that’s barely 20 minutes long, were written as early as 2011. They finally made them into a fulllength cassette in early 2014 before Tiny Engines pressed it to vinyl in September of that year.

But because of being held down by full-time jobs in New York City, they felt much less freedom to go on tour at will, which was really impeding the band. This is what can make it tough to be active within a scene in a city with such high overhead like New York is known for having.

“Philly seemed like it was cool and more reasonable to live in,” Paul says. “You can actually do fun things and not have to kill yourself and work all the time. In New York, you can play shows on the weekends and maybe call out a couple days a month. But that’s it.”

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he musicians in New York aren’t the only ones taking the heat on the cost of living there.

It’s forced many others in its scene to work double-time to keep up. And it’s the pace of the city’s gentrification that’s changing the DIY landscape.

“We were able to pay our rent,” says Edan Wilber of the now defunct warehouse space in New York, Death

By Audio, where Mannequin Pussy performed many times. “I mean, it wasn’t aways on time but we were still able to pay it. It ended up being a thing where we went from having a handful of shows every month to me booking every night of the month just to be open.”

Wilber adds that having to overextend himself ultimately over-saturated the calendar for those who attended shows at DBA. “I wouldn’t have booked it if I didn’t want to see it,” says Wilber, reconciling the need for the money to keep the venue open.

As for the gentrification of DBA’s Williamsburg neighborhood, he says he saw it coming.

“DBA was in a desirable neighborhood but it was on the outskirts,” he says.

“So that’s why we were able to exist for so long - because nobody came out there. It was just so far out of the way. Then apartment buildings started showing up. They started redoing the waterfront and it was becoming all

40

these luxury condos. So it’s insane how long we were able to stay and do what we did in the face of such a neighborhood.”

Since the demise of DBA, Wilber has since moved back to Florida, where he grew up, into a house with his girlfriend. He says he’s enjoying simple things that New York took away from him like cutting the grass.

Looking back at his time in New York, Wilber says that going to shows in warehouses inspired him to put on even more shows, which is likely a sentiment shared across all DIY scenes.

But in New York, Tyler Kane a promoter for Shea Stadium and booker for Brooklyn Night Bazaar, is still trying to encourage growth in DIY music and to further foster a community.

“When you’re 13, 14, 15 and 16 years old, you want to go to shows and be a part of the community,” Kane says. “I really think we should focus on having more all-ages spaces and not keep them from getting shut down. So kids can go and be inspired by music and be a part of the community.”

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ow approaching their first full year in Philly, the members of Mannequin Pussy have already observed some positive differences in the local DIY scene. Some of them are a bit obvious, such as the accessibility of practice space.

“I like being able to practice in someone's basement in a house,” Reading says, “rather than in New York, where you’re paying rent to live somewhere, plus paying rent to practice somewhere.”

Dabice, however, has been taking note of other aspects of her new city since becoming involved in the Philly DIY community. She sees how everyone in the scene works together to help each other, not to get ahead of one another.

“When we lived in New York, we would get asked to play a show, people would ask me, ‘Hey, how’d you get that show?’” Dabice says. “And it’s like, ‘Yo, we got that show because they fucking asked us to play.’ The question they were really asking was, ‘Are you working with a booking agent? Do you have a PR person? Could you help me out with getting into that?’ Whereas here, I’ve noticed we’ll get on a really strong bill and our musician friends will be like, ‘Hey, I heard you got on that show. That’s going to be sick I’ll see you there.’”

It’s that sort of community feeling that truly empowers artists. In just a short period, Mannequin Pussy has felt the dramatic change from where they’ve come from, whether they’re writing new songs, getting booked on outstanding bills or just being able to live in a place that allows them to do what they live for.

“I feel so inspired by Philly,” Dabice says. “Because it seems like the people who are here are artists and musicians. They’re not just talking. I feel like in New York, people are either talking about what they wanted to make or about money. Whereas here, people are actually doing stuff. So, you see what they’re doing and you’re like, ‘Oh shit, I’ve got to light my own fire, too.’” facebook.com/JUMPphilly

Cover Cover Story Story

THE DEAD MILKMEN

STILL DANGEROUS ARE

like, ‘Hey everybody, we’re having a good time, yeah!’ But I’m not having a good time. I’m angry. If you were angry in the 1980s, most of the music was Michael Jackson and basically people would say, ‘Come on, it doesn’t matter if you’re black or white.’ Well, it does if the cops are shooting at you! So I think that’s how bands like Black Flag and those began to get the undercurrent because not everybody was buying into that big lie. I think that’s why you really need somebody out there saying, ‘Hey, it’s not all pretty. Here’s an option for dealing with it.’”

Legendary sardonic punks, The Dead Milkmen, are still making music and still pushing people's buttons.

Story by Beth Ann Downey.

Photos by Jared Gruenwald.

A

young looking 19-year-old sits in the first row of the upper-floor auditorium in the Central Free Library of Philadelphia, enthralled by The Dead Milkmen performing an acoustic show in front of her.

The event is part of local author Andrew Ervin’s book release party for “Burning Down George Orwell’s House.” He’s a friend of The Milkmen, and it’s hard to tell who of the hundreds of people in attendance came to hear his reading or their music. But what’s apparent about the Philadelphia-based punk band – with its more than 30-year stake in the local scene – is that people of all ages, shapes and sizes have come to enjoy their music. Some have young children. Some have gray, braided hair. Some sport shirts and bowties, others are dressed in casual tourist garb or sport black denim vests and purple mohawks.

After the performance, that 19-yearold in the front row snags frontman Rodney Linderman to sign her T-shirt before heading for the elevator. For her, the music of The Dead Milkmen is more about nostalgia than relevance.

“My dad was only 24 when he had me, not much older than I am now,” says Jade Richmond, a Temple University student. “The music he was listening to, he wanted me to listen to because that’s what he considered good music.

So listening to it now reminds me of being a little kid and sitting in the back of my dad’s car, rocking out to The Dead Milkmen.”

T

he Dead Milkmen’s music presumably conjures many memories for many people, and means a lot to a lot of Philadelphians. Maybe people reminisce about the basement shows they attended in the early ’80s when the band started. Maybe they can imagine themselves walking down South Street as the punk haven it once was or can remember how it felt to cruise down to the Jersey Shore for a weekend or a summer.

As a satirical band – forever a perpetuator of wacky, intricate and out-ofthe-box lyrics to complement a clean musical approach to punk – The Dead Milkmen brought humor to a genre and a scene they say was full of people taking themselves too seriously at the time. From the absurdity of “Gorilla Girl” to the mundaneness in “Punk Rock Girl,” the commentary of “Beach Party Vietnam” to the insensitivity of “Takin’ Retards To The Zoo,” the band has undoubtedly made fans laugh multiple times through the years.

But they’ve also made them think, or possibly even cry. They admit their lyrics are dark, and Linderman, otherwise known as Rodney Anonymous, jokes that they are sometimes even “a desperate cry for help.”

Dark humor is something he feels audiences often need from music, but has become harder to find in modern times.

“There’s a whole genre of what I call ‘happy, clappy’ music out now,” he says while perched on a plastic chair in the auditorium after the show. “It’s

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J

ust as The Dead Milkmen may remember the 1980s differently than a Michael Jackson fan, their view of Philadelphia is different than that of current city-dwelling youths or young adults. There was much less to do, they say, and places like the Northern Liberties, Fishtown and even South Street were without the booming businesses and attractions they have today.

The bandmates also remember punk music as much less restrictive than it is today in terms of maintaining a certain style.

“It was more an attitude and it was more DIY,” says guitarist and vocalist Joe Genaro. “The whole idea of the punk thing was that you didn’t even need to know too much about music. You could just play it.”

Linderman says punk bands arose back then due to two key factors: desperation and boredom.

“You literally had nothing to do, so people formed bands so that they had something to do,” he says. “It was like living on the prairie in the 18th century, where people were like, ‘Oh, I’m going to play the fiddle now.’ People didn’t like fiddle music but it was something to do. It was better than going out and sticking your face in the blizzard. So yeah, I would say that that sense of desperation, which I miss oddly enough, isn’t there anymore.”

The times and punk music have changed but the members of The Dead Milkmen haven’t really, aside from aging. They constantly joke with one another and carry absolutely no sense of ego or palpable realization of rock stardom. Linderman is loud and erratic. Genaro is quiet and guarded. Drummer Dean Sabatino is straightforward and level-headed.

In other words, Sabatino seems like the one used to following the rules, Linderman the one used to breaking them and Genaro the one to run away at the first sign of conflict.

A steadfastness of self has allowed their music to change but remain relevant, as well as satirical and poignant at the same time.

“If you scratch the surface of our songs, they’re about being broke, they’re about junkies, they’re about crazy people in small towns, they’re about homophobes,” Linderman says.

“So I never particularly found that we were a humorous band. I’m glad that people have to categorize it that way. Otherwise, they’d be as depressed as I am.”

T

he Dead Milkmen found fame when their debut album, Big Lizard in My Backyard and the song “Bitchin’ Camaro” got picked up on the college radio circuit. That led to the immense success of “Punk Rock Girl,” a single from their 1988 album Beelzebubba, which made it into MTV rotation.

“That was back when college radio meant something,” remembers Sabatino.

“It doesn’t mean anything anymore really.”

“The radio used to be a life changing thing,” adds Linderman. “I love Internet radio now because it’s kind of, in some ways, the same way. When I get an Internet station that is regularly updated and the DJs are good, I love that.

That’s kind of the magic of it. But I don’t think it will ever happen for young people again the way it happened for us, where you would tune in to the radio and just be blown away by it.”

Just as the radio once had the capacity to make or break bands, getting picked up by a major label could also change an artist’s career overnight. But for offbeat punks like The Dead Milkmen, it came with a price. Linderman facebook.com/JUMPphilly

Cover Story

recalls the band's time on Hollywood Records, from 1991 to 1995, and he immediately says, “It sucked.”

“Back then, the only way to get heard was to be on a label,” he says. “Now you can make an MP3. You can do it at home. You have basically a recording studio at home and you can get it out there.”

Genaro remembers the band making their own tapes so that they could go out on tour. That was around the time that DIY and independent labels started gaining ground. But before they knew it, they were swept up into a wave of industry frustration, poorly performing albums and the threat of being dropped.

The band announced its breakup in 1995. Twenty years later, what was undoubtedly a very stressful decision can be joked about.

“The hiatus period,” Genaro says. “I think Rodney describes it as the happiest time of his life.”

Everyone, including Linderman, laughs.

“Yeah, but I thought hiatus was a wolf-like animal that preyed upon sheep,” retorts Linderman.

“Turns out that’s a hyena.”

Nowadays, there is one fewer original member of The Dead Milkmen to laugh at outlandish jokes or make his own. After spending the hiatus studying the Serbo-Croatian language and even moving to Serbia for a time to teach English, bassist Dave Schulthise committed suicide in March 2004.

Linderman, Genaro and Sabatino remember him as a prankster who would put ketchup packets on trolley tracks or have long conversations with service people from the 1-800 call lines he would dial from hotel lobbies.

He also had routines he stuck to, like lining the inside of dresser drawers with wrapping paper before putting his clothes in.

He always read the news. He read a lot of books on tour. He was always interesting to talk to about political events. He was an impeccable musician.

He always seemed bored - and seemed to be doing something to counteract that boredom, according to Linderman.

“He did not care what you thought about him,” he says. “He was going to have some fun and he was going to live his life the way he wanted to. If he was in Yugoslavia and you drop bombs on him, well, he’s having a good time down in the bomb cellar while they drop the bombs.

T

he surviving members of the band reunited for two memorial shows at the Trocadero in November 2004. Dan Stevens – who was playing in a band called The Low Budgets with Genaro at the time – played bass for the shows. In 2008, Graham Williams – a promoter from Austin, Texas who had sang on The Dead Milkmen’s album Metaphysical Graffiti – asked the band to reunite as one of the headliners for his Fun Fun Fun Fest.

“We thought it would be a one-off thing, but it was so much fun, too,” says Genaro. “At least I remember it being fun. Then we decided to do it on a regular basis.”

The Milkmen kept Stevens on bass. The band has since released two studio albums since the reunion: 2011’s The King In Yellow and 2014’s Pretty Music For

JUMPphilly.com

Pretty People.

Linderman says the band’s new material is more complex now that they can “get more than three chords together.”

“You don’t want to keep making the same record over and over again,” he says. “You sit at night and you’re playing around with your stuff at home and you’re like, ‘That’s a really weird sound. I wonder if we could use that.’”

Brian McTear of Miner Street Records, where The Milkmen recorded their two most recent albums, says the band exemplifies the path ahead for anyone with an aim to make music until they die.

“To be a ‘recording artist for life’ was never something all that many people could do,” McTear says. “Not even The Dead Milkmen, as they learned when their careers ran out in the mid ’90s. Rodney, Joe, Dean and Dan are heroes to me because they realized they could start up the band again, so they did it.

Now they’ll likely make records decades beyond what they probably ever thought they’d do when they were kids.”

Making records is certainly a priority for The Milkmen, but it’s not all they’re doing nowadays. Stevens is a family man with three kids. Sabatino works as an interface designer for an international consulting company, lives in Media and has a wife and 16-year-old son.

Linderman lives and works in the city as a change manager for a financial firm and has been married for 20 years.

Genero, also still a city dweller, is single and works as a software quality assurance manager for a company that provides marketing and technology solutions for the education market.

It feels just as unusual for the band to now play to older audiences as it does to play to fans who weren’t even alive when the band started out.

“I want to shake young people and say, ‘Why aren’t you at an Angelspit show?’” says Linderman. “I’m always amazed because there are these great young bands.”

T

he Dead Milkmen are fans of numerous young bands, evidenced by Sabatino’s Psychic Teens shirt he wears during the library performance and Linderman’s diatribes about the genius of acts like Gothsicles and Santa Hates You. It’s almost as if they don’t realize they receive the same admiration.

“I can recall numerous times where I might be showing a young punk band the studio, and in walks Dean to drop off some records,” writes McTear. “The band might not know who he is but the second I tell them, their eyes light up and they completely change their demeanor.”

Most career people enjoy being taken more seriously the longer they’re in a job. For The Dead Milkmen, the thought of being taken seriously is upsetting.

“It’s like we’re not even dangerous anymore,” says Linderman. “It’s like we’ve become avuncular. ‘Oh, aren’t they cute? Let’s let them play in the cemetery.

They’re not going to touch the bodies.’ It’s kind of a thing that’s upsetting me now when I start thinking, ‘What can we do to upset people?’”

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The First Pop-up Beer Garden Before pop-up beer gardens became ubiquitous in the city, Morgan's Pier offered outdoor dining, cold beers on tap and live music on the Delaware River. They're at it again for the fourth season.

With a drink in hand, sun on your skin, the cool breeze of misting fans, the sound of birds and laughter and the PATCO train passing over the Ben Franklin Bridge, it’s hard not to enjoy any time spent at Morgan’s Pier. When day turns to night, there is also frequently the chance to catch a live band or DJ playing at the 500-person capacity outdoor bar and restaurant. It has rightly earned its self-proclaimed title of “Philadelphia’s Backyard Beer Garden.”

Now in its fourth season, Morgan’s Pier plays annual summertime host to a slew of bands, a renowned chef-in-residence and thousands of revelers there to eat, drink and enjoy the city’s waterfront. When it first opened, long before amenities like the Spruce Street Harbor Park were created, Philadelphia boasted few outdoor beer gardens and casual eateries on the water.

“I feel like we were probably the first pop-up beer garden that wasn’t pop-up, because we’re stationary,” says Dana Canalicho, the Morgan’s Pier general manager who is in her second season in the position. “I do feel like we helped begin this trend.”

Along with dozens of beers on tap and a 44

number of signature cocktails, Morgan’s Pier complements its beer garden vibe with a menu imagined by one local and celebrated chefin-residence each season. Past chefs include George Sabatino (Stateside) and David Gilberg (Koo Zee Doo). This year, "Top Chef" winner and Laurel owner Nicholas Elmi has found that going from feeding about 40 people per night at his East Passyunk eatery to serving as many as 1,500 people on any given Saturday at Morgan’s Pier to be an interesting and fun challenge.

“The food is simple,” he says of the current Morgan’s Pier menu. “Everything has two or three ingredients, so obviously everything has

to be really good. You have to pack a lot of flavor into a lot less things. It’s a good challenge.”

Elmi called on his New England roots, integrating ample seafood and other light-butsatisfying items, for this year’s menu. His main inspiration? Thinking about what he’d eat if he were drinking a beer or a glass of champagne on a nice summer day.

“That’s sort of the basis of the menu - what would my ideal vacation be and what would I be eating at the time?” he wonders.

Aside from many diverse options of snacks and sides, there are burgers and sandwiches, including crab, lobster and clam rolls. Elmi also introduced several large plates to the menu, including fish and chips, steak and a whole grilled lobster, which give the menu both a casual and upscale feel.

“The larger plates we serve are still kind of down-and-dirty, eat-with-your-hands kinds of things,” he says. “They’re all served on wooden facebook.com/JUMPphilly

Photos by Rachel Del Sordo. James Murphy photo by Teresa McCullough.

Food That Rocks

boards, so nothing plated, nothing garnished.”

Elmi says the base of the menu will remain the same throughout the summer. But as the season progresses through different varieties of vegetables and fresh seafood, he and his dedicated crew will change things up.

“We can switch things out and alter it,” he says.

“Or if we get sick of something, we can just completely scrap it and start over.”

Morgan’s Pier has applied this same “switch things up” strategy to musical offerings this season.

This will be the first year in which R5 Productions doesn’t have a hand in booking when the restaurant and bar turns into a venue. In years past, R5 brought acts like James Murphy (pictured above with Dave P), Parquet Courts, Fucked Up, Ted Leo and Waxahatchee to Morgan’s Pier. Most were free shows.

Canalicho explains that the split came about due to some changes within Four Corners Management, which also owns Union Transfer, Ortlieb’s, The Dolphin and both Drinker’s establishments.

“It wasn’t a negative thing,” she says. “Just moving some things around in different directions.”

Canalicho says they’ll now host more local DJs as opposed to traveling acts, as well as live bands on Wednesday nights.

Forthcoming acts include The Business, The Sensational Soul Crusiers, DJ Eddie Tully and DJ BeatStreet.

Though many of Morgan’s Pier offerings still cater to a younger, drinking crowd, Canalicho hopes things like the revamped live entertainment and brunch offerings will please a diverse patronage.

“We’re finding that during the day, people want to come with their kids and they still want to have a drink, which you can’t do at most places,” she says. “So, now mom and dad can sit there and have their cocktails. The kids play and the parents can play, too.”

- Beth Ann Downey JUMPphilly.com

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Photo by G.W. Miller III.

Inside Voices

"You Have To Risk Failure."

Kenn Kweder and Richard Bush have been making music in and around Philadelphia for decades and they both continue to perform regularly.

Bush, who has fronted countless bands including The A's, now leads The Peace Creeps. Kweder, who grew up in Southwest Philadelphia, fronted Kenn Kweder & His Secret Kidds and now does shows solo and with friends.

We listened as the two discussed the Philly music scene - then and now, as well as the art of showmanship.

- G.W. Miller III

RB: It is a business.

KK: But we didn’t find that out until years later! It didn’t seem tough in the beginning. We had infinite energy back in our 20s. It didn’t seem to take any effort to make a show happen. And any effort it took didn’t seem to hurt as much as it does now.

RB: You seem to still have energy. You are playing all the time.

Kenn Kweder: If I remember correctly, I met you in 1977 at Gene’s on the Boulevard.

KK: Back then, doing everything with an original band, writing original songs, keeping the band together was an inordinate amount of work. We were doing 50 shows per year. Imagine how much work that is. It’s insane.

Richard Bush: That is absolutely correct. We opened for you and we were terrified to open for you. We’d read about you in the paper all the time.

Going back to the early days, what were your favorite shows, your favorite venues?

KK: You guys were all confident, I remember. You were on your game. You had that stage-persona clothing.

RB: You were very gracious, I remember. I mean, we were terrified. You were like, “Oh yeah, you guys were good.”

RB: I always liked playing The Ripley because it was a big space on South Street. The shows I really remember are the ones that went crazily wrong.

They were kind of funny, different from all the other shows. I remember playing at The Palladium in New York. We had a last minute show opening for Ritchie Blackmore’s Rainbow. It was just the wrong thing for us to do but we had another gig that night. We had to make some quick money and go. During the first song, people were booing us. Second song, they were on their feet booing us, giving us the finger. By the end of the set, they were out of stuff to throw at us so they were ripping the metal off the sides of chairs and throwing it at us. They could have decapitated us.

KK: To me, that’s the only way to be. And anyone who takes themselves seriously, you know, it just makes sense. It is music, you know?

KK: There is nothing like that. You’re a showman and you’re giving it everything you got and these people aren't even giving you a chance. Once, I opened up

RB: Yeah, we dressed for success.

KK: A lot of bands back then were still doing the '60s thing with no effort put into what they wore. I looked at you guys and thought, “Huh. These cats are serious.”

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facebook.com/JUMPphilly

for Steven Wright, the comedian. I think he just booked me so he could use my guitar. The booing started slowly and just accelerated. It was one of the most unbelievable things I’ll remember. People throwing stuff is just insanity.

RB: I’m all for live, original music. That’s what attracted me to music, even more than recording. It’s like, “Whoa. They’re doing that right in front of me.”

RB: We opened up for The Ramones a lot and that was a tough crowd. The Ramones are so singular. We figured out that if we just said, “You know why we’re opening for The Ramones? Because we’re their favorite band,” then people would like us. Not that it was true or anything.

KK: The other day, I was hosting a show with all these bands at a church in South Philly. There were like 20 bands and they were fucking good. It’s like they've never had a setback in their life. I don’t even know their names but they were fucking good. I’m just glad that someone’s carrying the torch without any sense of regret.

KK: I played for them one time but it was really early and people didn’t have a chance to form an allegiance with them yet. The '70s thing was pretty deep.

And then the '80s? That was pretty crazy.

RB: It’s really tough. You have to plow it out and do it on your own. You don’t get much help. You’re underpaid, you’re under-appreciated. And people don’t realize how much they really need us.

RB: I kinda don’t remember the '80s. I had The Candles.

KK: I think that’s really true. It’s like when you’re looking at a building and you don’t realize how it makes you feel calm because of how pleasing it looks with its symmetry and all. We’re that for your ears. If that all disappeared, there would be some quiet dissonance or something. I don’t know if that makes any sense at all but it’d be weird.

KK: I had many bands. I don’t understand how I had the energy to book all those gigs. People don’t understand the amount of effort it takes to book gigs.

There’s always the chance of rejection every time you pick up the phone. It’s almost like asking someone out for a first date. Even if it’s a club you’ve played 20 times, you could still get rejected. It’s crazy, man.

What was the best show you ever did?

RB: It was really exciting for me to open up for The Kinks at The Spectrum.

They were one of my favorite bands. And at The Spectrum? That was unbelievable. It was weird because I just felt so tiny, like I was under a microscope. Luckily, we had played some larger stages. We had learned that if you set everybody up too far apart, they can’t connect with each other. So we just set up in our little area. But it made us feel so tiny.

KK: The best feeling is that 30 seconds before you hit that Spectrum stage, that 30 seconds before you hit those big stages. I haven’t done the big stages in a while but I still get that feeling. A few years ago, I was playing at Temple University. All week, I practiced "The Star Spangled Banner" and I just couldn’t get it. All of the sudden, I’m surrounded by all the people and these athletes and nothing was more frightening than being surrounded by 8,000 sober people. At a bar, people might not catch the mistakes. This was more frightening than playing The Spectrum … and I had the lyrics written on the top of my guitar. Anytime you’re still nervous about doing stuff shows that you still respect the craft.

RB: It keeps you on your toes. Keeps you in the moment. If you’re just phoning it in, what’s the point of doing it, you know? I don’t want to see that from anyone, let alone myself.

KK: Phoning in is a drag.

RB: Why give it a half-assed effort?

KK: That’s why we do this. It’s in our genes, in our DNA. How about all the guys who quit at 33 or 34. There were other circumstances that maybe prevented them from going on. But it is a tricky thing to continue on.

RB: I totally just lost my train of thought.

KK: Talking about phoning it in and stuff like that. I started in the '70s. You probably started around the same time.

RB: We wouldn’t be people then. People need art. It’s how we evolve.

KK: Even the cats who were doing stuff on the cave walls. There was something they were trying to express, to get out.

RB: Music is here for a purpose. It wasn’t always there. We created it. The human race created music because we needed music. A recording is a record of something that lasts. It’s the blueprint of the song. When you do that song live, it’s whatever that song is at that moment. It may be kind of close to the original but they are two different things. What works during recording doesn’t necessarily work live and what works live doesn’t necessarily work during recording. You could have the greatest live show and then you listen to the record and you’re like, “I never want to listen to this again.” It’s all part of that live experience. Live shows are singular experiences. To make a performance real, it has to be in that moment and you have to be true to yourself.

KK: I grew up when The Beatles were around. Then they were gone but Paul McCartney was still doing stuff. He did Wings and other stuff and then he said he was going to do Beatle’s songs. I saw him do those and my friend was like, “Now I can die.” Even though we’ve heard those songs a million times, I got the chills. And no drugs either.

RB: I saw Iggy Pop I don’t know how many times. Every time I saw him, he was entirely different. I never knew what I was going to get from him. And even if it was not what I wanted or expected, I couldn’t be disappointed. It was always real. The frontman as a focal point, a thing of interest, comes and goes. Some generations kind of miss it. Sometimes I see a band and I think, “This band would be great if there was something to watch, if someone was connecting with me instead of staring at their shoes.”

KK: Sometimes you’re waiting for something bad to happen. You know, with Iggy, he could get injured.

RB: I saw Iggy one time at The Tower. It was Halloween night. I was standing in front of the front row. He was hanging right over me and I was thinking, “This is so great.” At the same second, I was like, “Do I really want to be this close to Iggy?” There’s that danger. You never know what’s going to happen.

KK: It’s like a mercury thing.

RB: I started as a kid.

KK: It takes a lot of drive to continue to do it. The amount of money that you should get paid is seemingly never there. And you’re still doing an original band. I don’t know how you do it.

RB: You have to risk failure. Because otherwise, it’s too safe. If you’re not doing something new, a little risky, you start falling into habits. You have to find a new way to sing things every night or you’ll just fall asleep.

KK: Sometimes I went overboard.

RB: These guys are great. I’ve been in a lot of bands in my life but this one just feels so great. Every time we get together is so great.

KK: It’s like a clubhouse. It always starts that way. Then there’s a business plan. Then there’s no house. Then you start drifting, so you start the clubhouse back up again.

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RB: Yeah but that’s the only way you can achieve something you haven’t achieved before. I’ve fallen off the stage maybe five times in my life.

KK: Sometimes I give everything I have and I think I’m going to collapse.

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ISSUE #18

SUMMER 2015

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JOIE KATHOS

REACHES ANOTHER LEVEL YOUNG BOLS & OLD HEADS: JAZMINE SULLIVAN, iLL FATED NATIVES, EDELWEISS, THE DEAD MILKMEN & MUCH MORE