Please Don't Eat the Record Label Guy
It began, as so much does, with a late-night phone call to the HO HQ. A spacious silence hung on the line before the flat buzzing raspy voice spoke up: "Hello. We are Dan Emery. You are to sign us. The Council has said this. Burp." (He didn't say "burp," you understand.) "We would especially like your children. Many more of those, yes thank you." We've had some unusual pitches here at the label over the years (here's an interesting one), but this was a new approach. We were intrigued.
The Very Very Mystery Band quickly arranged a showcase performance at a midtown Starbuck's Coffee ("This beverage is very intoxicating in Denton, Texas," confides bassist Orion after his third doppio grande latte extra), and it was a swift romance. They raced through an edgy, ironic set that included some of the highlights of their new CD, Grok Me, Amadeus: "We're From Denton, Texas, Really," a sentimental remembrance of their native home that explores the bonds of community and familiarity ("The land of Denton / Is where we're from / I promise / We all look like this down there"), was a smashing opener, and by the time they got to the sweet love song "You Look Like Monkeys (Especially When You Kiss)" we were sold, scribbling out a quick contract to sign right there on the spot.
Dan Emery's lanky, unusual good looks are dominated by his deep blue piercing eyes. He's pictured above center, next to Home Office Records head Mr. Cyrano (holding the contract). To the left are drummer Tony Fromdenton, a monster behind a kit but a sweet and gentle soul once he's put down the sticks, and harmonitron and short-wave radio player Steve "Denton" Texasman, whose guttural cries of "Hailing frequencies open" during his radio solos spur the band into ecstatic frenzies of leaping, energetic playing. Orion Denton2 is the youngest member of the Very Very Mystery Band, although he points out that this is a measure without much meaning in the world of rock and roll. "Time does not pass normally on a trip from Denton, Texas," he notes gravely in his scratchy and almost machinelike voice. "It is very far."
Dan is friendly and warm, forming instant friendships with audience members and opening himself to fans in an frank and engaging way. "Mammals are known to enjoy social relationships," he explains. "We enjoy having fans for dinner. To dinner. Correction. I am speaking in a Denton, Texas dialect which is sometimes misunderstood in this large city of people without personal location devices, some of whom tragically vanish and are never heard from again. This is what we are told. We are from Denton, Texas, where such things do not happen." Tony chimes in, a strange burr of feedback in his voice: "Yes, these fans taste very good." Steve, shaking his head vigorously: "Our friend from Denton, Texas means that they have very good taste." They nod and gabble briefly among themselves. "Denton, Texas talk," adds Dan. "It is of no interest."
Their music speaks for itself. With its ragged guitar base and endearing rumbling rhythm, garnished with virtuoso tootling on the harmonitron, the Very Very Mystery Band's set is a whirlwind of wittily-observed writing couched in hypnotic tunes. The new album will feature a full line of hits-to-be, including "Tastes Like Chicken," "Your Cars Are Funny," "We Look Just Like You" and their canny, sarcastic reflection on the state of pop radio, "Britney Looks Yummy."
What do they want? Just what every other young rock band wants: world domination, a crowning seat in the court of popular music. "We have come from Denton, Texas to devour your civilization," declares Dan, an otherworldly light in his eyes. "Just kidding." We'll just add this: be there. Truly, resistance is futile.