Visiting the Philistines in their honeymoon suite

Most Tuesday nights, the six Philistines gather at the Crossroads’ Midwestern Musical Co. for rehearsal. On this particular evening, though, with only four members present, the musicians pay more attention to the bottle of scotch in the corner of the room than they do to their instruments. Vinyl is spinning in the background — an old Monkees record now, before guitarist Cody Wyoming puts on the Cure.

“Listening to records is an important part of our band practice,” Wyoming tells me. He says this the way a minister might say the Bible is useful in his work. “Some of our fellas couldn’t be here tonight because they are busy people, and we can’t have band practice without a drummer or a keyboardist. But we’ll sit around and listen to records. We’ll go over some structural things. More than anything, the music keeps us talking.”

Drummer Steve Gardels and keyboardist Josh Mobley may be out for the evening, but the rest of the psych-rock gang is on deck: Wyoming, bassist Michelle Bacon, guitarist Rod Peal. Singer Kimberely Queen is perched on a bar stool, legs crossed, her large black-framed glasses doing nothing to conceal her piercing gaze. She’s quietly alluring, with the sort of presence that hypnotizes an audience.

Queen’s years of theater training have made her a fantastic frontwoman, whose sense of drama informs her song readings. Without an instrument, she’s free to interpret the music as it comes to her, treating songs as weapons in a battle for her life. This is her first band, she tells me, and she has so far found the experience intoxicating.

“One thing I’ve learned is that there are people that are good, and then there are people you want to work with, and then there are people that are both good and you want to work with,” Queen says. “I want to work with these people because we get the job done. We’re focused enough, and we have a vision and we can move forward. But we also have fun when we’re just sitting around in a circle and talking. I want three or four band practices a week. I could be at band practice every day.”

As Queen says this, her bandmates vigorously nod their agreement. Peal calls the Philistines his “utopian situation.” Queen may be new to band dynamics, but the rest of the Philistines are veterans who, aside from Queen and Peal, also play in at least one other band right now. (Bacon is in three others.) Friendship aside, the logistics of getting together once a week for practice — never mind for a show — are sometimes prohibitive. So why do it?

“It seems like we all want this,” Wyoming says. “To me, I’m addicted to certain sounds, and I need to have them in my life. I got addicted to the sounds of the Philistines, and I got addicted to playing with the Philistines. When it becomes like that, you make time for it. There’s a place for that, and you will make it work. We’ve taken a week off once, and that was right after South by Southwest.”

So bountiful and unwavering is the mutual adoration in this room that an outsider — me, for instance — might mistake this for a secret cult meeting. But it’s more apt to think of the musicians here as participants in a happily extended honeymoon. Queen and Wyoming started writing songs for the Philistines in the winter of 2012, but the lineup didn’t come together until last fall. So far, the band has recorded just two songs, which live on the Internet for curious ears. More are being tracked for a debut full-length, but no one wants to rush.

“I think we’ve all grown as musicians through this,” Bacon says, setting off another round of warm, familial looks. “Even in the first couple of months of playing together, I could tell, because I’m not really a bass player. And I think everybody’s learning a different style than they were doing before. That’s the essence of this band: We all make each other play better, and we have fun doing it.”

The Philistines came together with a simple agenda: Hang out together while cultivating the best possible live show. Mission accomplished, on both counts. Chalk it up to professional respect riding a particular high, sure. But sometimes musicians just fall in love. And sometimes you can hear it.