Solid Bond
As a group with buzz (a New York Times front-page piece about its dominance of garageband.com’s charts) and commercially viable talent (its melodies and lighthearted lyrics echo those of platinum-sellers Blink-182), Lawrence’s mi6 was the area’s most eligible bachelor, dealing with admirers on its own terms. In a reversal of the usual send-and-wait process, labels such as Dreamworks and Epic solicited demos from the group and invited the members to showcases in New York and Los Angeles. But mi6, realizing it held the cards, balked at having to stray from its home turf.
The lucky winner of the mi6 sweepstakes, Kung Fu Records owner Joe Escalante, wasn’t motivated by mi6’s positive press — he picked the band’s demo out of a pile after mocking its publicity photo, thinking it might be an easy one to eliminate from consideration. (“We can’t figure out why they thought it was so funny,” bassist Aaron Riffel says of the unassuming shot of the group in an elevator in Fraser Hall on the KU campus.) But Escalante, an original member of punk institution The Vandals, was so impressed by the quartet’s songs that he flew to Kansas to watch mi6 practice. Seeing that its sharp hooks and smart dual-guitar interaction worked as well in person as they did on record, Escalante immediately signed the band to a three-record deal.
mi6’s Kung Fu debut, Lunchbox, justifies Escalante’s faith. Ken Peterson’s vocals are snotty enough to be edgy but tuneful enough for modern-rock radio. David White’s precise one-note leads tap out intriguing countermelodies over Peterson’s steady riffs. Jimmy Coles’ rolling drumbeats propel the songs, but the guitars lag behind, turning the songs into quick-pulsed pop rather than all-out thrash. And Riffel’s bass lines guide the band’s transitions, providing a heavy anchor for slow-paced breakdowns and delivering rumbling lead-ins to anthemic choruses.
Lyrically, mi6 isn’t above poo-poo jokes — see “Splashdown,” Peterson’s apologetic ditty about stinking up the bathroom at his girlfriend’s house — and it occasionally treads on trails long ago paved by pop-punk’s pioneers. (Hearing Peterson sing I want to be a lesbian like you, it’s hard not to recall Screeching Weasel’s “I Wanna Be A Homosexual.”) At first, Peterson also seems to be suffering from an inferiority complex (he uses at least three derivations of the phrase “I’m a loser”), but that, too, is par for the genre’s course. While some punks remain angry outsiders, the majority of The Descendents’ descendants prefer to present themselves as lovably inept underdogs, taking their repeated failings with a self-effacing chuckle and an occasional angst-ridden “Why me?”
Peterson’s protagonists have it especially rough: a guy whose significant others keep “changing sides” (“Lezbian Girlfriends”), a hopelessly uncool but game trend-chaser who grows a mullet and dons Miami Vice pastels (“Lunchbox”), a Better Off Dead-style schmuck who attempts to commit suicide by sticking his head in the stove but only singes his elbows on the oven rack (“How to Be an Idiot”).
“We typically write about things that happened to us, extend the truth a bit and try to make it funny,” Riffel explains. “The majority of our listeners are younger and might be going through some of the same shit we went through. Hopefully we can make it a bit easier with our songs.”
Young aspiring musicians who listen to mi6 would be especially wise to take careful note of its lyrical lessons. mi6 turned a negative review from Pitch writer Jeff Brown, who claimed its chords were Screeching Weasel rip-offs and its choruses were numbingly repetitive, into a stellar reactionary song. In “Jeff Brown,” Peterson demands an apology as the group shouts What’a you know? in unison; but unlike hip-hop response tunes, many of which either threaten violence or deliver harsh personal attacks, mi6’s direct address to a critic sounds reasonable — even somewhat vulnerable. I never did anything to you, Peterson starts, pleading innocence. He later asserts I don’t think that it was very fair of you, cueing a memorably melodic guitar line.
“It always sucks to get a bad review, but you have to take it with a grain of salt,” Riffel says. “The Jeff Brown review impacted us so much because it was our first review as mi6, and it ripped us a new one. However, we took his criticism and tried to work on better songs. He actually came to one of our shows about a year later and talked to us. We all laughed about the review, and there have never been any hard feelings on either end.”
While many of the group’s latest write-ups are raves, most reviewers focus without judgment on mi6’s similarities to Blink-182, Screeching Weasel and MXPX. In the Kansas City area, though, mi6 seems to be the lone member of the pop-punk fan club.
One consequence of the paucity of like-minded acts in the area is that mi6 often shares bills with dissimilar bands, mostly metal-influenced hardcore outfits. “We’ve never been one to pass up a gig,” Riffel reasons. “No matter where it is or who is playing. If only one person hears us that had not heard us before and they like us, it was worth it to us to do the show.”
Next spring, mi6 will embark on a Midwest tour with labelmates Anti-Freeze, during which it hopes to convert significantly more than one fan a show. Opening for Sum 41 and heading out on the road with the entire Kung Fu roster are other possibilities for 2002. The group also plans to make a video soon for Kung Fu’s Web site, but it has no expectations about that clip getting wider exposure. “I don’t think MTV will give a shit about it,” Riffel says.
Still, the possibility that mi6 might break through, like Green Day and Blink-182 before it, excludes it from listening consideration for gutter-punk purist types. “We aren’t a true ‘punk’ band because we do not live that lifestyle,” Riffel concedes. “We all grew up listening to old-school punk like The Meatmen and D.O.A. Hell, I still do. I love it and always will. But people need to realize just because we don’t live the lifestyle doesn’t mean we can’t like the music.”
