Dance Band: We're not Stand Band
Wednesday 31 January @ 16:37:42 |
 by PAT O'BRIEN
"This would be a great place to film an action movie," The Philanderer tells me. We are not yet seated at a table at Pizza Luce in Minneapolis' Seward neighborhood and already I can tell this interview is going to be interesting, to say the least. "See all that glass?" he continues, pointing to the floor to ceiling panes that run along the restaurant's second floor. "You could have ninjas and machine guns." "And Steven Seagal," adds drummer The Perfect Beat.
All of this is true, maybe. Dance Band's The Philanderer (Subterranean Dub-Thumper, Flow Thrower, Bass), The Perfect Beat (Metronome, Honey Holsterer, Drums) and Captain Octagon (Verbal Eruptions, Dance Commander, Vocals), are slowly sucking me into their version of reality, which they don't share with anyone else. They all have aliases but insist that those aliases are their given names and the names that appear on their driver's licenses are their real aliases—it's just easier that way. Captain Octagon traveled here from another planet specifically to be in this band, they say. He crashed into MIT and a professor there had a robot skeleton that fit his alien body perfectly. They have the simplest musical philosophy I have ever run across ("We are Dance Band, not Stand Band—we want you to dance"), but the details behind these 12 words reveal an ocean of thought poured into the concept of just existing as a band. How a band will function and be absorbed by the public beyond the notes and words is something I don't think every band puts enough effort into thinking about.
"It all started at a couple of clubs in Minneapolis where we noticed a lack of movement," The Philanderer says, referring to the origins of the band. "And an epic amount of post-enthusiasm—people were post-enthusiastic." Basically, people weren't dancing enough when they were out at shows, and Dance Band was formed to do something about it. It also (sort of) started because The Perfect Beat got an entire bar of drunken locals to sing a Celine Dion song along with him one night in Duluth. It's all as clear as mud, but they like it that way. Nothing is how you would expect it and, on first seeing them, you might be tempted to write them off as a joke or a group of people not willing to let Halloween go, but the more they talk, the more you understand this band could not exist without any one of its parts. The costumes, the hilariously off-kilter lyrics ("This is how you dance when you die" being a particular favorite of mine)—it all comes together to form one perfect mess that's so much more than a mess.
 Therein lies the sparkling, delirious beauty of this band. The costumes (blue, skintight '70s-era jumpsuits reminiscent of Freddie Mercury) aren't costumes at all, it turns out. They are their real clothes, they explain, the clothes they wear during the day (which tend toward cowboy shirts, hoodies and vests) are their real costumes, but are necessary for employment on this planet. "One of the key problems in getting people to dance is their fear of looking ridiculous, so we say, 'Fine, we will be more ridiculous than you,' and no matter how badly they dance, they will still look better than we do," says Captain Octagon. "This is how dance bands dress in Sweden," adds The Philanderer, referring to the matching stage apparel. "We have tapped into the rich tradition of dance bandism."
Notice that the actual music hasn't come up yet. That's not necessarily an accident: The music is a priority, but how it's framed, how it will be perceived and what it could or should do to the crowd are considered before even one note is played. The disco/funk/punk casserole these guys cook up is something of a marvel. It's designed to do only one thing but it's not throwaway Top 40 dance music by any stretch of the imagination. It's actually clever, catchy, often funny and never boring. They flail, jump, dive and show way too much chest hair onstage, but their musical chops let them get away with it.
While they have a single out for "Pedal Power" (which accompanied a press kit that was enclosed in a folder with puppies on the front of it), they have thus far resisted the temptation to begin putting an album together, thinking (correctly) that their explosive, maniacal, just plain fun shows are enough for now. It's something that can't be captured on a recording, and The Perfect Beat points out that the songs are constantly evolving in response to the audiences they play for and don't want to find themselves unhappy with the final result were they to record them. "The point we want to emphasize most is how much we appreciate people moving to us," The Philanderer explains.
"Mostly, just make sure you don't forget the part about the ninja attack," The Philanderer says as we wrap things up, "and be sure you mention that the Captain's space shorts are shiny and invisible." I have to admit to not seeing the ninja attack but I didn't see Captain Octagon's space shorts either, and by now, I have to believe they exist. They have to because all of this is true, maybe. ||
Dance Band perform on Thu., Feb. 1 at the Turf Club with Retribution Gospel Choir and Big Trouble. 9 p.m. $5. 21+. Corner of University and Snelling Aves., St. Paul. 651-647-0486. They also perform on Fri., Feb. 2 at Nomad World Pub with Cowboy Curtis, Sam Keenan and Ronnie Lake. 9 p.m. $4. 21+. 501 Cedar Ave. S., Mpls. 612-338-6424. For more info on Dance Band, check out their MySpace page at myspace.com/mydanceband.
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