the eclectic company
by Bing Futch
I read the news today, holy shit. OBLITERATI won Best Eclectic Band at the 2nd Annual Orlando Music Awards held recently. Though I firmly believe that there are no winners or losers, they pulled the award away from popular favorite UMOJA and the easier-to-comprehend BLUE EYES. They play some wiggy jive, most folks have a hell of a time digging into their groove, it seems. Art that doesn’t fit within the parameters is easily dismissed as “too complex” or “high-falutin’”. Art for Art’s sake. Well, whose sake is art supposed to be for anyway? There’s Art for Christ, Art for Commission, Art for Celebration and Art for Coronation. Art is for the Love Of Pete, and that’s probably why a good number of Orlando citizens and judges chose OBLITERATI as most worthy of the title “eclectic”. Auto-Erotic Express, indeed.
I must’ve been really plotzed to read the news today and discover the winners of the awards. I was there. Getting plotzed. It had been one hell of a day–trying to book shows, working on deadlines, writing new music and conducting interviews with members of two Florida bands. Earlier in the afternoon, I spoke with Moe Cooter, guitarist for the cross-dressing country rocker band GLITTERHICK. Let me tell you something directly: these guys aren’t afraid to stand on the fringe either, in fact–they’ve found their niche, according to Cooter. “They call us ‘Cowboy Manson’, which we’ve never heard before–I thought that was interesting.” he laughs. The quartet, which includes Gary Glitterhick (throat), Bobby Lee (12 string bass) and Scooter Greenbud (buckets) sings gleefully balls-out tunes about “grandma running buck- naked through the neighbor’s yard” and an earnest John Denver-esque rocker extolling the virtues of “Mountain Girls”.
Besides sounding a little like ZZ TOP mixed with hyped up HANK WILLIAMS JR., the band takes great delight in dressing to the nines for each show, or un-dressing as the case may be. “We believe highly in the freedom of expression,” says Cooter, a rough-looking chap who often performs in a G-string and garter belt. Hailing from Brevard County, they don’t often make it out to this side of the state. Pity. They’d be a hoot on a double bill with GARGAMEL! There’s something about a rock show that leaves you smiling.
A couple of hours later, I had the pleasure of hanging out at Greg Reinel’s pad along with his lovely partner in sonic onslaught, Suzanne Dozier. The deadly double-team, known around town as NUTRAJET, are enjoying a high level of exposure in O-Town thanks to their ballistic two-person stage assault that is nothing short of amazing. That and natty threads keep the rock looking good. After recapturing my breath, lost when Suzanne first came into view, I sat with them and talked about the changing face of Orlando. The curious stretch of Orange Ave. where Q-Zar used to be is being bought up by some hidden force with deep pockets. The pair muse over what could arrive next in the middle of what proposes to be our “music scene”.
“I really hope they put a giant dance club, because I think that’s what we need in town,” Reinel says with only a hint of sarcasm. Known for their cutting satirical rock and perpetually agitated personas, Reinel and Dozier rely on their own love for classic aggression and a shared interest in spy films to create a powerful package of danceable, singable, crunch pop. When asked about how they plan to survive in a sea of doughy-whiny 12-string poets, Nutrajet seems assured of their impending dominion. “The Ramones weren’t really widely accepted when they first came out, but they persevered,” says Reinel, smiling. “We won’t go away that easily.” After walking away from the awards show with a Best Garage/Surf/Rockabilly trophy later that evening, I’d say that the man knows of what he speaketh.
To home, to bed, another day of being propaganda pimp and chief justice of me, another few great conversations–plenty of flash and thigh-high fun, some of the nicest people I know and a handful of the shittiest. Welcome to just another day in this life, offered up to you for inspection and consideration.
Aye, and a sweet life it is, too.
