Stridency Deletion { spring 2006 }
Haled by one prominent fan as “the greatest non-existent band ever,” Stridency Deletion is a band of enigmatic fellows. Pitch met the trio that is Stridency Deletion last Thursday in their extravagant highrise apartment complex to discuss the band’s formation, their musical development, and their upcoming Canadian tour. Amid expensive-looking abstract paintings and artfully hung lava lamps, the band’s three young members told us about their greatest dreams and most difficult challenges.
This article will be your standard piece of suck-up music journalism. But these boys are not your standard gang of snobby, pimped out music junkies...
Stridency Deletion began as the blossoming musical fruit of one
Richard Lemon, lyricist, frontman, and lead singer for the band.
Lemon tells the story of how Stridency Deletion was born with nostalgic enthusiasm and a tiny pinch of self-deprecating laughter.
It all began while the talented young man was studying Speech and Language Pathology at Utah State University. During the third year of his undergraduate degree, Lemon took a fatefully boring Phonology class, during which he simultaneously discussed “cool band names, you know, like Monkey’s Uncle” with his classmates and explored complex phonological processes and speech distortions. The melding of these two unlikely subjects planted the seedling idea of Stridency Deletion as a band in Lemon’s fertile brain. Stridency deletion, a scientific term for a particularly interesting speech distortion (and now one of the coolest band names out there) got stuck between Lemon’s ears and would not go away. Even a year later, hints of this original linguistic inspiration can be picked out in the symbolism and allusions of Lemon’s off-the-cuff lyrics. Song titles such as “Lisp and Stutter,” a track from Stridency Deletion’s debut album, add a layer of quirky intellectualism to the band’s musical image.
Lemon’s solo songwriting career formed a strong, identifiable foundation for Stridency Deletion. For several months Lemon sat at the helm of Stridency Deletion all alone, playing small gigs for his fellow Speech and Language Pathology students. Recruitment for additional members was a low priority for Lemon until just last summer. Sensing a need for more depth and feeling tempted to hunt a wilder sort of musical exploration, Lemon first took on a second guitarist who never came to practice, a parakeet that up and died three weeks into rehearsals, and finally resorted to two of his old friends. Since the band’s spontaneous beginnings, two more members have joined Lemon—one, the most talented drummer in Cache Valley (Ben Spicer); the other, a mysterious blond whom fans like to think of as Miscellaneous Instrument Boy (Nate DeMonja). Both long-time acquaintances of Lemon, these two excellent performers lend the band a sharper edge, energizing Lemon’s witty lyrics with a unique brand of musical versatility.
Ben Spicer, known to friends and fans as simply “Spice,” says the reasons he joined Stridency Deletion have more to do with loyalty than with fame or glory. The drummer is already a local drumming icon and a founding member of Tin Roof, a well-known cover band. Despite being a close friend of Lemon’s, Spice soberly reveals a small vein of resentment at not being asked to join Lemon’s band earlier on: “Even though Richard didn’t invite me to be a part of the band at first, I decided to come in and bring some unity. The Beatles had Ringo, The Wings had McCartney—I wanted to be that person for my friends.” Like any best friend would, Lemon appreciates Spice’s talent and the solidity he adds to the band. “Ben is the core of this band,” he admits. Spice counters graciously, “We wouldn’t exist without Lemonhead’s lyrics.”
Stridency Deletion’s third member, Nate DeMonja, joined recently under mysterious circumstances. Wiry and blond, DeMonja appears strikingly different from his tall, dark, handsome fellow rockers. Where did this kid come from? Outside research led Pitch to the discovery that Miscellaneous Instrument Boy is half Serbian, the son of an unknown set of wealthy Europeans. Nothing more about DeMonja’s upbringing or emigration could be brought to light. How did DeMonja come to be a part of a loud American folk-punk band? When questioned about his motivations and contributions to the band, his only answer was, “Some people say I am Stridency Deletion. I don’t know where they get that idea.”
Given DeMonja’s attitude of lightheartedness bordering on apathy and the unregulated musical freedom the other two members of the band allow him, Pitch senses a subtle layer of unmentionable tension surrounding his role in Stridency Deletion. One wonders if the traditional rockband vices of gluttony, drugs, and lasciviousness have played any part in the hazy past of DeMonja. Should his previous absence from the band be attributed to top-secret international government liaisons or underground drug lords? Is DeMonja’s well-mannered and childlike personality merely a cover for a black thicket of undisclosed crimes or scandals? We’ll leave those prying questions for another interview.
Stridency Deletion also hosts a manager of sorts. Mr. Jacob Mildenhall insists he lets the band manage themselves, but admits that he is the man who signs their paychecks. As manager, he exercises sufficient power over the band’s future. It is largely due to Mildenhall’s encouragement and leadership that Stridency Deletion will be ready for their first international tour next month. With countless years of experience in the music industry, Mildenhall and his wisdom have guided Stridency Deletion through good times and bad. During their recent feud with ex-fan Ronald Frenelli (of Ron and the Magma Monkeys), Mildenhall staved off paparazzi and countered slandering critics with a determination and finesse worthy of Her Majesty the Queen of England.
Somewhat of a musician of himself, Mildenhall fondly recalls his first band: the short-lived and long-haired two-man group Walker. Since his days as a fouding member of that duo, Mildenhall has given up the Luke Skywalker look, but he says the experience taught him everything he knows about nurturing the image and sound of a rock band. Occasionally he indulges in a nostalgic wish to have the boys of Stridency Deletion grow their hair out. “After all,” Mildenhall says, “who doesn’t like shaggy hair and Star Wars?” Manager Mildenhall might be right. But despite their neatly trimmed hairstyles, Lemon, Spice, and DeMonja seem to enjoy just as much limelight as any other talented, hard-working, non-existent band. These are a group that need no hype, no paraphernalia, and no gimmicks. All they need is enough space to make music together. Given the boys’ affinity for movement, the necessary performance space is much larger than your average concert stage. Improvised dance moves are a regular feature not only during scheduled shows, but during the course of everyday life with Stridency Deletion. DeMonja shyly fails to admit that this aspect of the band’s wild nature is largely due to his exuberant influence. With Lemon behind the mic and Spice on his custom-built bright blue drum kit, DeMonja is normally given free reign to flavor the background however he sees fit, whether it be with wild and high-pitched vocal rhythms, the penny whistle, the nose fl ute, or his own priceless Stradivarius. While DeMonja and Lemon harmonize, Spice throws his trademark “spicetastic” drumming up as a heavy, rhythmic backdrop for the vocals and instrumentals. The three boys together produce a sound that is both imbalanced and harmonious, unpredictable and serendipitous, something like if you put Jack Johnson, Cake, and Weird Al Yankovic on a crazy rollercoaster together and never let them get off.
Frequent unplanned midnight jam sessions in the nearby park have been known to attract hundreds. Whether they come away inspired or puzzled by Stridency Deletion’s unusual attitude toward musical tradition is hardly a question. Fans know to expect both bewilderment and wonder from all of Stridency Deletion’s work, whether it be a simple cover of an old classic or a lava-hot improvisational pancake of spontaneity.
Stridency Deletion claims a long and impressive catalogue of infl uences, ranging from Andrea Brocelli to the Aquabats and several other groups, such as Blessed Union of Souls, Cake, Frank Sinatra, Guns ‘n Roses, and Weezer. In answer to the inevitable question about the diversity of musical tastes among band members, Lemon offers the concession that “there are so many … we each take cues from different galaxies in an entire universe of music.”
It’s not surprising that from this deep and varied musical background the band have woven an appealing genre-less-ness for themselves and their music. In fact, Spice has been known to comment, “I don’t even know what genres are anymore. Real music doesn’t come in boxes.”
The band themselves describe their sound in terms of its ability to soothe and inspire. Stridency Deletion make music for everyone. “Our fans are like us,” says Spice, “looking for a sense of the miraculous in everyday life.” Lemon adds, “We want to inspire people to bring music into their lives.” Understandably, Mildenhall wears his pride for the band on his sleeve. Their high ideals and diverse inspirations make him smile the smile of a overly-delighted parent. Mildenhall obviously sees himself as one of the band, not just their manager. And Pitch agrees with him, the band and their manager are confident but not pretentious. That humility is a large reason behind their success.
Of their rivals The Magma Monkeys, Lemon panders civilly to the differences of opinion which exist between Ronald Frenelli and himself. “He just wants other things out of life. Our music rubs him the wrong way, I don’t know.” As Pitch understands it, the clash between Stridency Deletion and Ron and the Magma Monkeys began during one of those jam sessions in the park. Under a shady autumn half-moon last year, the two bands squabbled viciously over the swingset. Ever since that day, both sides have nursed a simmering dislike that on at least one side has soured into a proper professional-grade hatred.
When Stridency Deletion isn’t busy battling for playground equipment or treating the park’s squirrels to a new medley, they enjoy an array of manly pleasures ranging from mexican food to paintballing. As for long-term professional goals, the boys of Stridency Deletion are preparing for a high-class exclusive gig at the end of May. Mildenhall plans to use the energy and prestige of that event to kick off an exciting summer tour of North America. A brand new bright crimson tour bus has been acquired especially for the occasion; the bandmembers have already lovingly christened the machine “The Chili Dog.” Within its comfortable high-tech interior, Lemon, Spice, DeMonja, and Mildenhall will share the joys and pains of their first major international tour. Accompanied by Tin Roof and The Brigham Cidiots, Stridency Deletion will stop to give concerts throughout Idaho, Montana, and Canada. Pitch asked the band how they anticipated being received in Canada. “Probably with a beaver in one hand and a beer in the other,” Lemon quipped. “Hey, that’d make a good song title.”
Aside from the inherent challenge of fighting off over-enthusiastic female admirers, Lemon believes the challenging part of surviving as a musician is keeping every chord fresh, facing each gig like it might kill you. It’s letting the music play you, letting it live and breathe and fight and kick, “so that it touches everyone and no one at the same time.”
NOTE:
Stridency Deletion is 85% fictional. The four individuals mentioned are indeed good friends and somewhat musical people, but not, unfortunately, members of a celebrated and dynamic American folk-punk band. This article is largely hypothetical, but based on an actual interview, which actually took place.
Ron and The Magma Monkeys are 100% fictional.
Other bands and/or musicians mentioned exist in various stages of reality, dependant on the time of year.
