Pretty on the Inside

The name Ugly Boyfriend conjures up certain images: a fortunate, undeserving sort who managed to attract a mate despite an utter lack of charm; a pleasant fellow who makes up in personality for what he lacks in striking good looks; or perhaps a conventionally attractive indie-rock sort playing the underdog card in an ironic fashion. Different people create different images — Ugly is in the eye of the beholder — but it’s definitely a moniker that demands attention, and one to which a diverse range of individuals can relate on some level.

“There are a lot of ugly boyfriends out there, and we’re speaking to an entire culture,” says Ugly Boyfriend drummer Nick Gordon. “I think the name comes from the fact that we’re afraid of turning into ugly boyfriends,” adds singer/guitarist Travis Millard. “See, we’re fighting it. No one wants to be that guy, and by getting the worst out of the way first we can stay single and beautiful the rest of our lives.”

Millard’s intricate, introspective songs contain few references to these modest goals, and they’re anything but ugly. Rather, they possess a sort of awkward beauty, like the duckling near the end of its swan transition, as does the artwork Millard produces for everyone from the Get Up Kids to PitchWeekly (see Best of Kansas City ballot).

“The songs are sort of funny but sort of endearing as well,” says Millard. “It’s sort of like the ugly boyfriend persona: He’s a little weird and you don’t want to get too close to him, but you kind of like him and need to have him around.” These might sound like the type of quirky, heartwarming character studies that dominate acoustic singer/songwriters’ coffeehouse circles, but Millard quickly clarifies that isn’t his scene. There’s a ferocity to the group’s work that makes the Ugly Boyfriend better suited for smelly bars than haughty cafés.

Still, there’s an emotional immediacy to the duo’s songs, one heightened by the fact that it uses no electronic equipment during its gigs, as well as by the lack of available recorded material to substitute for the live experience. However, that doesn’t mean that the Ugly Boyfriend’s melancholy tunes (in Gordon’s words, songs about “broken hearts and broken windshields”) have the boudoir appeal of such dour songsmiths as Robert Smith and Morrissey. “I’ve had our music with me in the bedroom before, and it’s not for makin’ love,” reports Gordon, whose response oddly foreshadows Millard’s own assessment of activities that go hand-in-hand with listening to the Boyfriend. “I think they’re more of beating-off-in-a-dark-corner-of-a-basement-type songs,” he suggests before reconsidering, “or another option might be raking the leaves, or even smoking pot by yourself.”

The latter options seem most appropriate, given that Gordon describes the band’s sound as “organic.” That’s definitely not to be confused with “acoustic,” a term Gordon denies while expressively framing it with finger quotes. “We’ve played electric before,” he explains, “but right now we’re enjoying playing our songs in that stripped-down kind of way.”

The Ugly Boyfriend’s sparse sounds come with an appropriately basic drink that bears the band’s name, adding “drinking” to the list of leisure activities its music inspires. A mixture of Jack Daniels and iced tea is apparently the right companion for tunes such as “El Diablo” and “Abe Drinkin’,” although Millard and Gordon disagree on the proper way to prepare the brew.

“To do it right, it should be canned Lipton lemon-flavored iced tea,” insists Gordon.

“It’s best when you use the lowest-grade dehydrated stuff, like an Always Save brand,” corrects Millard. “But it’s not about taste, and it’s not to be savored. It’s about sloshing your worries away.”

Occasionally, other disagreements arise in the Ugly Boyfriend’s Lawrence complex, including the following exchange that brings the conversation careening from its music-related tracks:

Gordon: “Travis is an ugly boyfriend of sorts, and he’s losing hair in the shower every morning, and he’s trying to blame it on me.”

Millard: “That’s because Nick’s going bald.”

Gordon: “My hairs aren’t long enough to be the ones represented in the shower.”

Millard: “You’ve seen us both, who you gonna believe?”

Me: “I believe that Nick shows the signs of male pattern baldness, but he has short hair.”

Gordon: “I do have a small bald spot, but I’m not losing hair in that spot. I’ve never had hair there….”

Millard: “Like a little flesh Yakima up there.”

Gordon: “Right, but I’m not losing hair. I’m only gaining hair. Travis, that’s all yours.”

Don’t cry for Millard, even if he is the object of scorn from nervous men who see themselves in his thinning hair. In addition to maintaining the rigorous lifestyle of an Ugly Boyfriend, Millard has found time to get his slightly disturbing comics published in the pages of such magazines as Bunny Hop, Heckler, and Detour. His work is also displayed in a number of galleries and in Lawrence watering holes, such as the Replay Lounge and the Tap Room, and his “Fudge Factory, Word on the Street” mini-comic-book is on its third issue (available at the Love Garden or through the wonders of the World Wide Web by e-mailing tmm@idir.net). Heck, the self-described “frisky little scamp hailing from the breadbasket of America” is even doing Spin‘s Back Page for the issue out this November. For an Ugly Boyfriend, Millard is certainly sitting pretty.