Good music comes from personality. Instruments and talent help, but the driving force behind the sounds arises when people look at the world in their own unique way and describe it to us through crafted notes and words. One learns more about Patti Smith from the line “Jesus died for someone’s sins/ But not mine” than one might if one knew her for many years. Likewise the interplay between guitar and vocals in Jimi Hendrix’s “Wind Cries Mary” evokes the sadness and longing that the late guitarist had for the girlfriend he so often cheated on, yet never wanted to hurt.
So what happens when disparate personalities -- ranging from battle rapper turned guitarist to vocalist who never sang in a rock group until coming across a classified ad -- get together to make music?
The answer: Supercade, a group whose name originated from a coffee table book about the history of video games. And what a great answer it is.
Dave (bass and keyboards) had the idea to form the group about a year and a half ago. Teaming up with his friend, Tony (guitar), the pair started writing songs and enlisted a drummer. This drummer left the band, however, claiming that he had “found Jesus, and that Jesus told him not to be in the band.” The two found Michelle, a veteran rocker who has pounded the skins for over 20 years in such bands as San Francisco’s Subarachnoid Space. Finally the group enlisted Devon, the youngest member, who happened upon their Craigslist ad. She had never sung in a band before, but her pipes amazed the boys, and the group’s lineup was solidified.
They forged their sound through playing together. “Our initial idea was to go for nothing too specific,” said Dave, before their past show at the Velvet Lounge. “We found our sound over time.”
They needed some time to meld, it would seem. Listing favorite albums spanning New Order’s Technique to Beastie Boys’ Check Your Head, one might imagine the possibilities that could surface from that mix.
That sound they developed combines the infectious energy and vocals of No Doubt with the simplicity of pop punk. The songs keep one’s head bopping despite its lyrical content, centering on bad relationships, their consequences, aftermath, and rebirths. For example, the upbeat “Breathless” contains the clever chorus hook “Does it leave you breathless --/ The way you run from life?” It is this method of songwriting that suggests that this band aims to leave its audience with a smile on its face and a faint sense of nostalgia in its heart.
The band is able to achieve this reaction because their distinct personalities mesh together. Each member has his or her own awkward yet defining characteristic. Dave, for instance, told me he could talk about ‘80s hair bands for hours.
“Yeah, but he’s never heard ‘Yesterday’ by the Beatles,” Tony chimes in.
“Is that really that weird?” Dave asks.
“Yes, it is,” everyone in the band (and a few others at the bar) answers before he finishes his sentence.
Tony, as mentioned above, is a self-proclaimed emcee and battle rapper. “I used to battle in middle and high school, and picked up guitar when I was in a live band and we lost our guitarist.” However, he would not rap to the beat I laid down, but referred me to a CD by the band Maple, on which he makes a guest appearance as an emcee (I have yet to track this record down. If you know this band, please let me know.).
“I would do anything for this band,” Tony remarked later. “When I’m at work or when I’m home, all I want to do is play guitar. It’s all I think about.” His wife was standing five feet away. His band members chuckled, but nodded in agreement.
Upon asking the band members about their spirit animals, Michelle’s response again turned the heads of her band members and the bartender.
“I’ve actually seen my spirit animal before,” she says.
“Really? How’d that work out?” Dave responds, unsure of how to proceed.
“At a séance-type thing. It was a mountain lion.”
“No shit. Was it running around?”
“Yeah. It was on a mountainside and everything. So yeah. Mountain lion.” Noted.
And then there’s Devon. She had no qualms admitting that she spent many years listening to sad girl music, but was unable to name a spirit animal. Despite pressure from her bandmates and me, she threw her hands up and sighed.
“I don’t know. How about dog?” A little open-ended, I thought, so I wrote down puppy in my notebook, and imagined a bloodhound listening to Lisa Loeb.
It was Devon’s closing remark, however, that brought the band’s spirit together for me:
“Music is an outlet for me. People attach to it, whether you’re the one pouring your heart out onstage or listening in the crowd.”
Good personalities. Good relationships forged to sing about bad relationships. Good music. Supercade.
