{"id":4038,"date":"2012-09-13T11:33:58","date_gmt":"2012-09-13T15:33:58","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.gadflyonline.com\/home\/?p=4038"},"modified":"2012-10-03T16:03:57","modified_gmt":"2012-10-03T20:03:57","slug":"the-biters-are-the-best-rock-band-in-america","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/the-biters-are-the-best-rock-band-in-america\/","title":{"rendered":"The Biters are The Best Rock Band in America"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"\"<\/a>The Biters are a four-piece band hailing from Atlanta, Georgia. They unabashedly play a trashed-out, almost anachronistic combination of power-pop and punk rock, weaving together wonderfully incessant melodies with fuzzy twin guitars. I\u2019ve been seeing their singer, Tuk, play shows since I was an embarrassing 15 year old kid, and he was the guitarist in a once up-and-coming band known as the Heart Attacks. And now, after driving through hours of stagnant Northern Virginia traffic, my fianc\u00e9 Mary and I finally arrive in Springfield, looking forward to seeing them play in the reincarnated version a club once known as Jaxx. At the strip mall where the club is, the first thing that catches our eyes is an enormous carpet emporium, framed in our view by two different gas stations. It\u2019s not until we\u2019ve driven through the entire parking lot that we even notice a meager line forming in front of the Plexiglas entrance to the newly refurbished Empire.<\/p>\n

Mary finishes retouching her makeup and we step from the car. We\u2019re meeting up with an old friend, Palmer, whose interest and enthusiasm for the scholarly edge of punk rock eclipses anyone else I\u2019ve known. Dressed entirely in black with three blonde dreadlocks hanging down his neck he runs gleefully over to our car. \u201cHave you seen the people here?\u201d he asks us. For the first time, Mary and I look towards the crowd, and find ourselves taking in a bizarre mismatch of fishnet gloves and parachute pants, eyes with heavy liner and no mascara. The kids lined up for this show\u2014kids obviously not lined up to see the Biters\u2014are dressed as if they had unlimited access to a locker of unsold Hot Topic merchandise from circa 2002. As we stand in the parking lot, Mary laments having not found a liquor store before we arrive. Palmer and I readily agree.<\/p>\n

The three of us wander around to the back of the venue. With a stroke of luck, we find Tuk hauling equipment from a van I suspect to date from the days of the Heart Attacks. In his ripped-up shirt and Bowie-esque mullet, it\u2019s almost impossible to believe he can lift the amps. Each grip causes the muscles beneath his tattoos to surface against the ink. I call out to him and we spend a moment catching up before I learn he has no idea about the interview I\u2019ve set up. We agree, however, to start the interview once he\u2019s finished moving stuff inside. \u201cYou better watch out, man,\u201d he yells as we\u2019re walking away. \u201cYour old lady is looking fine.\u201d<\/p>\n

The doors open late\u2014or at least later than advertised. At the door I realize the cover is at least triple anything I\u2019ve ever paid to see the Biters play. Regardless, the three of us wander into the poorly lit opening of Empire and pause to reminisce about Jaxx, a spot I frequented as a teenager. I note the corner where I once cried over a girl, and the hallway where my best friend once asked a girl out for the first time (she turned out to be gay). While they\u2019re trying to build a bar in the opening corridor, the man standing behind it tells us to go around the corner if we want a drink. We do. There, we find the main stage and audience area, a space with enough room to warrant holding bigger local shows. It\u2019s spacious, though somewhat awkwardly arranged, with the bar and its immediate proximity partitioned off to keep teenagers at bay. On the stage is an instrumental band whose name I never catch. Palmer and I agree we\u2019re not torn up about it. I ask the bartender for a gin and tonic. She mouths something to me that appears to be the word \u201cten.\u201d I smile and say back, \u201crail?\u201d She smiles and repeats \u201cten.\u201d Palmer shrugs and orders a bourbon.<\/p>\n

We find Mary sitting at one of the bar tables talking with Joey, the Biters\u2019 drummer, and Travis, the bassist. Joey wears a homemade tank-top and tight blue jeans, though, his signature coonskin hat is missing, somewhat regrettably. Travis, the quieter of the pair, is wearing a tight jersey and black jeans. They tell us that Wednesday 13 (both the name of the headlining band and the singer\u2019s individual stage name) handpicked them for the tour. The two bands have almost nothing in common sonically, and their fanbases have virtually no overlap. He simply loved their music. The Biters, with no pressing shows lined up, said yes. \u201cBut we haven\u2019t been selling any vinyls,\u201d Joey laments. \u201cThe kids just aren\u2019t buying them.\u201d There\u2019s a pause and I ask Joey when we can start the interview. He tells me to relax, it\u2019ll happen. \u201cI spend all day on a bus with those fucking guys,\u201d he reminds me. \u201cWhen we get off, we\u2019re not always clamoring to be in the same room together.\u201d Fair point.<\/p>\n

Sometime after that, the instrumental band finishes. To our chagrin, however, it becomes apparent the Biters aren\u2019t on next. Instead, we see middle-aged men in various stages of zombie face-paint hauling guitars and a (token) standup bass on stage. We only watch for a few minutes before it\u2019s clear we\u2019ve encountered another band that has almost nothing to do with the sound that drew us here in the first place. Reluctantly, I buy another drink. It hurts less to shell out the money this time around, but it still tastes like rail gin. I make a half-hearted attempt to find a Biter to interview, but aside from the strangely abundant number of husky boys in Slipknot shirts, I can\u2019t find a soul.<\/p>\n

The zombie band finishes. The audience (Wednesday 13\u2019s audience?) has begun to arrive, and while the floor is far from capacity, there are an increased number of sweaty guys pressed up against the stage. We mill about for a few minutes, looking for a spot. Mary asks one of the boys if she can switch with him to see the band she came for. He turns around, vacant, looks at her, and responds with a dull \u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Biters begin moving their equipment on stage. Later in the night, Tuk told me that at shows these days \u201ceverybody is so scared of doing something different for the fear of being made fun of. And if you actually try and you\u2019re not apathetic and you give a shit about something, people are going to go \u2018Oh look, they care! Haha.\u2019 And what happens if you get up here and you dress fucking cool and you fail and people boo you? \u2018Look, they\u2019re trying to be rock stars and they fail! Hahaha!\u2019\u201d But what\u2019s clear as soon as the Biters appear in front of an audience is that they are rock stars (though with a smaller fan base); they\u2019re glamorous and they\u2019re disciplined. If, as Tuk states, \u201ceverybody is trying to be the Anti-Hero, the Anti-Rock Star,\u201d The Biters are clearly more than willing to step into the void left behind. Even before they\u2019ve tuned a guitar, you can tell the Biters have learned from their lineage. Standing in tight jeans, with leather vests and matching haircuts, you can see their interpretation of the Ramones\u2019 uniform and their adaptation of the New York Doll\u2019s streetwise androgyny. And as the red lights of their amps come to life, they look down to kill.<\/p>\n

The first chords of the Biters\u2019 set are always huge and gnarled\u2014hanging in the air like a frozen tornado. Matt Gabs, the guitarist, stands with his back to the audience and his foot pulsing as if his body were ready to burst. Quickly, though, you realize they\u2019re more than a high-energy punk band: they\u2019re each exceptionally talented musicians. \u201cI don\u2019t really like any 80s rock at all\u2026it doesn\u2019t influence me whatsoever,\u201d Tuk told me later. \u201cI\u2019m influenced by [the] bands M\u00f6tley Cr\u00fce and Guns \u2018n\u2019 Roses were influenced by. Rose Tattoo, Sweet, Bowie\u2026that\u2019s why I don\u2019t sound like whatever cheesy cock-rock comes out today \u2026I\u2019m a sucker for the pop hook,\u201d he said, toying with the empty vodka he and I had just shot.<\/p>\n

In true punk fashion, the Biters tear through their set in 30 minutes, knocking out songs as insatiably catchy as \u201cSo Cheap, So Deadly\u201d and \u201cOh Yeah (The Bitch Wants More),\u201d the latter of which features an apparently effortless twin-guitar solo. Few punk bands, let alone the hair metal bands that pioneered it, could match two separate guitars with such flair. In between songs, rather than embarrassing themselves with pointless banter, Travis and Joey keep the music going, listlessly tossing rhythms back and forth to each other\u2014hinting at what might come next. Near the end of the set, Tuk calls a friend up out of the crowd to play guitar for him. The guy manages seamlessly to back up Matt\u2019s strangled licks and blends nicely in with the powerhouse of Joey and Travis\u2019 rhythm section. Yet all eyes are on Tuk, scrambling to the top of the amps and captivating even the most devoted Wednesday 13 fans as he leaps irreverently into the arms that may or may not be waiting below.<\/p>\n

Triumphantly, Tuk makes it back on stage. Taking back his guitar and stepping up next to Travis, they finish the set very much the way it began, with guitars swirling out of control and Joey\u2019s drumming feverishly helping the group to crescendo into absolute silence. And in spite of their theatrics, their flawless hair, and their clear indulgence in the histories of rock \u2018n\u2019 roll, not a single heckle can be heard as they climb off stage.<\/p>\n

The rest of the night descends into a bizarre blur. Wednesday 13 takes the stage shortly after the Biters. Their singer looks be at least 40 and wears a top hat and heavy raccoon eyes. His long black hair blows in a fan set up nearby. As he yells \u201cWhat\u2019s up, Springfield!!\u201d I wander off, vaguely looking for the Biters. I see Tuk up in the sound booth but happily head outside, where I find Matt Gabs talking with Mary. Matt tells us he used to skate\u2014with a lot of talent, nonetheless\u2014but that he\u2019s give it up, saving his hands and bones for guitar. As we stand outside Empire (under the guise of smoking a cigarette to circumvent the venue\u2019s No-Reentry-Even-if-You\u2019re-Twenty-One policy), Matt gives me a tutorial on how to cut up a shirt. (The key, for those wondering, is to cut loosely around the collar. Follow the stitching). \u201cI used to have that skinny, teenage boy chest like you, but then I got these,\u201d he says, coyly flaunting his pecs. I head back inside where Palmer and I down absurdly-priced Jager Bombs, waiting for Wednesday 13 to finish.<\/p>\n

When the set is over, Tuk and I sit at the bar. The floor lights have come on, and a line of giggling girls forming at the merch. Wednesday 13 has gone over to to greet fans, his makeup dripping and the theatrical illusions fading. \u201cI never wanted to be a lead singer,\u201d Tuk tells me off the bat. \u201cI wanted to be like Mick Jones, you know? I wanted to be the right-hand man.\u201d It\u2019s a bizarre statement given the natural allure that seems to surround him. As we talk, people constantly come up, shaking his hand, hugging him, reminiscing.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m really interested in the glam rock angle of your band\u2026because a lot of what is called \u2018glam punk\u2019 could have existed without T. Rex or Bowie,\u201d I tell him. \u201cThe term punk has limited so many people,\u201d he declares back. \u201cT. Rex\u2014if we were in a different era that wouldn\u2019t be called glam. There\u2019s bad connotations to certain words. Glam has such a bad ring to it because of 80s glam metal stuff. But 70s glam? There would be no punk without it. It was the stepping stone between rock \u2018n\u2019 roll and punk.\u201d It\u2019s a point few musicians working the contemporary punk circuit are willing to admit, let alone accept. But putting records like T. Rex\u2019s \u201cThe Slider\u201d (\u201cone of my favorites,\u201d Tuk interrupts when I bring it up) side by side with The Damned, it\u2019s impossible to truly wash away the inheritance.<\/p>\n

The discussion turns to the state of the modern punk scene, a favorite topic of anyone who has ever played in a punk band. \u201cI think a lot of what the punk scene does right now,\u201d I tell him, \u201cis very heteronormative.\u201d Tuk\u2019s eyes light up. \u201cIt totally is. And it\u2019s based around\u2026useless trivia\u2026Memorizing whatever stupid ass 7\u201d of whatever band got a review in some stupid ass magazine and who\u2019s fucking cool with the local show. It\u2019s the exact same as what the scene is supposed to be against. It\u2019s like memorizing baseball facts and eating chicken wings\u2026The Biters are trying to step outside the box\u2026There\u2019s no fucking coattails to ride on.\u201d<\/p>\n

From across the bar, Mary asks Tuk about the Biters\u2019 experience within the record industry. \u201cI can fucking talk for hours,\u201d he warns us. Mary, of course, prompts him to go ahead. \u201cWe have no label, we have no publicist, we have a booking agent that we earned\u2014but most of the bands we get on tour with asked us\u2014Wednesday 13 asked us\u2026Social Distortion hand picked us,\u201d he tells us. \u201cWe have no label. We buy our own t-shirts\u2026We are totally self-sustainable and we can barely stay above water.\u201d<\/p>\n

There\u2019s a somber pause. At that, Joey saunters into the room, asking Tuk where the free food for the band is. Tuk begins to explain but Joey notices the phone recording the interview on the bar. \u201cHey,\u201d he shouts, \u201clet me get a fucking word in! Joey. Needs. His. Fucking. Food!\u201d As he wanders away, Tuk picks back up. \u201cWe\u2019ve played for tons of [labels]. They love it. \u2018Oh, a couple of years ago I totally would have signed this but it\u2019s just not selling now\u2026\u2019 If we played fucking nu-metal or did some fucking boy-band that was autotuned, maybe we could get along. But at the end of the day on my deathbed, is that who I want to be? And I\u2019m not even playing music that\u2019s inaccessible! I consider it pop!\u201d He snorts. \u201cAnd I\u2019ll tell you what: when you\u2019re doing a band like we\u2019re doing in this day and age, and you have no one to follow, it\u2019s harder dude. But I\u2019m not doing this because of money. True art isn\u2019t about money; it\u2019s about love and passion! I sleep on floors and I eat like shit. And it\u2019s not because I think I\u2019m fucking cool. I don\u2019t post on Facebook, I don\u2019t fucking Tweet\u2014I don\u2019t fuck girls, I don\u2019t fucking sniff cocaine every night. I just play music and I do it because I love it and that is real fucking art.\u201d<\/p>\n

The bartender makes a last call for \u201ca Joey\u201d to pay his tab. \u201cHe\u2019s in the Biters, dude,\u201d Tuk calls out. \u201cHe\u2019ll fucking pay it.\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

The Biters are a four-piece band hailing from Atlanta, Georgia. They unabashedly play a trashed-out, almost anachronistic combination of power-pop and punk rock, weaving together wonderfully incessant melodies with fuzzy twin guitars. I\u2019ve been seeing their singer, Tuk, play shows since I was an embarrassing 15 year old kid, and he was the guitarist in […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":46,"featured_media":4043,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[4,213,201,219,212],"tags":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4038"}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/46"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=4038"}],"version-history":[{"count":12,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4038\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":4045,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/4038\/revisions\/4045"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/4043"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=4038"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=4038"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/gadflyonline.com\/home\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=4038"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}