Smug Brothers Stuck On Beta

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First thing you need to know about Smug Brothers: they’re not brothers, and they’re not smug. “I can tell you’re disappointed,” said Kyle Melton, the main Brother, as we sat in the lobby of Los Angeles’ famed Chateau Marmont drinking hundred-year-old brandy from (in my opinion) inferior snifters.
I spat the brandy out of my mouth, just missing Paris Hilton, who was seated at the next table by herself reading Infinite Jest. “Surprised? I’m outraged!” I exclaimed. I wasn’t really outraged but sometimes a good reporter has to manufacture emotions for the sake of the story. “You’re lying to the people. The good people of rock and roll. Explain yourself.”
One of the other Brothers -- their bass player, also named Kyle -- tried to interject. I held up my hand, which stopped him cold. I have very effective gestures.
I had history with this other Kyle. I once let him join a band I played guitar in and, well, let me tell you. He was good. A little too good, if you know what I mean. Nobody wants a bass player who’s too good. That’s how you end up with Primus. I should have fired him, but instead we just broke up the band. My point is: I didn’t trust a word this too-good bass player had to say. I wanted to hear from the other Kyle, who I will call Melton, to avoid confusion. He’s the heir to the tuna melt fortune, which used to be called the Tuna Melton, but he insists he’s not bitter about the name change. He still has the money, after all. I’m not sure if that’s relevant, but I like to tell the whole, unvarnished truth. It’s the only way to get to the real authentic core of the nut of the meat of the thing.

“We started in 2004, in Dayton, Ohio, me and Darryl Robbins from Motel Beds. We made one album, called Buzzmounter, without ever being in the same room together. Then a few years later I was interviewing Don Thrasher for a piece about the 90s music scene and he offered to play drums with us. As you know, Don played in Guided By Voices…”

I turned to Don, who was sitting next to Kyle. “Is this true? Did you play in Guided By Voices?”

Don fixed on me what I have seen described elsewhere as a gimlet-eyed stare. “You did, too...” he started to say.

“Objection!” I cried. “Irrelevant!” Never talk to drummers, is my long-time band interview policy. It has never failed me.

So. Apparently Melton moved in 2015 to Columbus but he and Don managed to keep things going (I am paraphrasing here because at this point my digital tape recorder was swiped by Benicio Del Toro, who I have since discovered is a kleptomaniac) with a variety of Columbus and Dayton based side pieces (is that the right word)? But the core of the band at present is Kyle and Don. And I guess Kyle.

And now they’ve made a new album, Stuck on Beta, which is a fucking masterpiece of 21st century rawk, to which you are going to listen if it kills you. Which it won’t, I promise. “What does it sound like?” I hear you asking from the cheap seats. By way of answer, allow me a brief digression.

True story: I once interviewed the band Counting Crows in the larval stage of their fame, and they complained about everyone comparing their Big Hit “Mr. Jones” to Van Morrison, and I agreed that the song didn’t sound anything like Van Morrison, who is actually talented. I went on to suggest, however, that “If you’re trying to explain the color green to someone who’s never seen it before, you might say it looks like blue and yellow mixed together.” Which is not wrong, just oversimplistic and unhelpful. Comparisons are always invidious. I walk around saying that all the time, to everyone I meet, or just to myself in the house, and still. I make them. “X is like Y had a baby with Z and then got in a car accident and X grew up in foster care but managed to find a good home with A and B who brought X up to believe jazz is bad.” (Note: Jazz is not bad. Jazz is great.)

So when I say that Smug Brothers sound like Bee Thousand-era Guided By Voices had a baby with Chronic Town (the debut EP by R.E.M., not the band itself, don’t ask me how that works) and went to pre-school with Big Star, Spoon, the Strokes, Wire, and Deerhoof, well, is that illuminating? Does that tell you anything? Not really (rhetorical question, sorry), because music is a magic trick that no one has ever mastered, except by accident, and even then not for long. By definition you cannot properly describe a magic trick, especially if you don’t understand how it works to begin with.

Melton nonetheless gives it a shot: “Don and I did all the basic tracks in five sessions. Bass and overdubs were done when we could find time. The twist here was the demise of our beloved Tascam 424 MKIII 4-track that had been used on virtually every Smug Brothers track since 2004. As Sowash went to do his bass parts, he noticed my guitars were increasingly out of tune: the motor on the 4-track was dying after 20+ years of heavy use. We were able to get it repaired last fall, but the machine still wasn't able to hold its tuning. As a result, I had to redo all of my rhythm guitar tracks; drums, however, were fine since we didn't tune the drums to every song. So in a sense, we built the album up out of the death of an old friend.”

This might just be the expensive brandy talking, but the results are uniformly tuneful, concise, and shot through with the vein of melancholy characteristic of the best Ohio bands – hell, the best bands, period.

Because he paid for the drinks, I’ll give Melton the last word: “I suppose the story of the 4-track is a good parallel to the themes of the album: Things are gonna get weird, fail, and die, but you might as well embrace the chaos, give it your best shot, and enjoy the ride. In the end, you might get something good out of the adventure, like a new album.”

Typical Smug Brothers: Always looking for adventure, or whatever comes their way. It’s like they were born to, uh, do something. Be something? As for you, dear reader, my advice: Be cool. Be kind. Listen to more Smug Brothers. And if you’re reading this, Benicio, please return my digital recorder. You know where to find me.





Jim Greer, former resident of the city of Dayton, Ohio