June 2006 Northeast Performer

AT THE HEART OF THE BEATINGS
BY C.D. DI GUARDIA
PHOTOS BY ANTHONY TIEULI

“You’re where? Central Street? What’s around you?” E.R. of the Beatings is talking into a stranger’s mobile phone and giving directions to her cousin Christy, who is quite lost. Christy and her cousin are all the while unaware that he and his companions, bassist Erin Dalbec and guitarist Tony Skalicky, are three-quarters of a semi-precious stone of the local rock scene, the Beatings.

Dalbec, Skalicky, and E.R. sit around a circular table. Drummer Dennis Grabowski is absent, but the three have nothing but good things to say about him. “He actually does all the noise-vignette stuff on the record; he’s really great at that,” says E.R. The record he is referring to is Holding on to Hand Grenades, the latest offering from the band. The album is a sonic assault on the senses, formulated on the idea that a band can be noisy and melodic, even at the same time. It is no surprise that they all share the same musical sensibilities - playing together for years can do that to a group. Minus some initial shuffling during the early formation of the band, the lineup has stayed solid, and the Beatings are better for it.

“We’re definitely used to each others’ playing styles,” says Dalbec. The Beatings are an almost seamless entity. Firstly, there is no “lead vocalist.” Dalbec, E.R., and Skalicky each sing their share of songs on the latest record, as well as within their entire body of work. “We have played together for ten years, and we have twelve years’ worth of music. We’ve got enough material,” assures E.R.

The songwriting process is an area in which each member takes on responsibility. There is no one person who writes the songs. “We do it pretty evenly. Someone brings in a song they have been working on and if it’s their song, then they’re singing it,” explains E.R. Three different songwriting styles might sound a little dangerous to the identity of a band and the overall sound, but the Beatings are so in tune with each other, they sometimes finish each others’ sentences. While they don’t trade songs very much, Dalbec recalls a song the group collaborated on. The song, “Scorched Earth Policy,” came up when E.R. couldn’t settle on a vocal melody. Dalbec swooped in and had it finished before supper.

E.R. seems to be the most present vocally, as his voice swaggers and growls all over the record with his booming dynamic. Skalicky’s lyrics are sprinkled with short, two-line refrains, utilizing quick, easy rhymes and poetic echoes at precisely the right moment. His voice invokes the somewhat more excited part of the band personality as his high-tone borders on a melodic shout more than the flat-iron tones of his fellow guitarist. Dalbec’s voice, like the rest of the Beatings’ entire existence, is full of personality, and her melodic hooks are as infectious as her laugh. The easily recognizable voices of the three singers are breathy but never too soft, powerful and never too brash. Given the group’s songwriting process, part of the fun becomes figuring out who’s who and what’s what in the recording. It might seem that Dennis Grabowski has no vocal credits on the record, but that is not true. “That whistling part on the end of ‘Pennsyltucky,’” notes E.R., “that’s all Dennis. He worked real hard on that, counting out the time and everything. We were like, ‘just whistle, man!’”

While the Beatings are more than capable of expressing themselves through verbiage and good writing, they are also accomplished musicians as well. Grabowski’s drums signify a veritable bombardment of sound as his ringing snare drum and booming bass drum provide a combustible basis for Dalbec. The Beatings’ diminutive bassist outputs strongly stated, articulate bass lines, crystallizing into what might be a better explanation for the Beatings’ name. Together, Dalbec and Grabowski create a musical pulse that ramps up and settles down naturally. Once they hit the gas, things just happen. Noises become louder. The hooks they were previously slinging about grow barbs and start to dig in. In the sky, far above this pulmonary pound-fest, yet still very much in the thick of things, a veritable aerial risk-taking show of daredevil guitar work goes on. Whether it’s the stringtastic mess that occurs over the ending moments of the rollicking “Pennsyltucky,” or the reverb blasts that take place within several of the interstitial noise vignettes, guitarists E.R. and Skalicky paint seemingly effortless works of abstract sound coupled with melody. It takes skill to play both sides of this coin, and the two men at the six-strings are chock-full of that. “We’ve been playing for... a long time,” understates Skalicky.

When hearing all this explosive abstract music, people’s minds will invariably try to seek the closest common denominators. Bands from the Northeast region figure in, as do female bassists. The penchant for noise coupled with pure melody cinches the knot for most people. “It’s usually either the Pixies or Sonic Youth,” says Skalicky. It’s not difficult to see why people hear the Beatings and think Pixies. The Beatings enlisted Paul Q. Kolderie to act as producer on their latest album, and the investment reaped immediate returns. “Paul gave us lots of good input; never ‘change this song totally,’ but more like ‘let’s try this in a different key,’ and it just worked,” explains E.R. “That is what a producer is basically for,” he continues, “I don’t have to change the way I write, and things end up sounding great.” As for the comparisons to bands like the Pixies and Sonic Youth, the entire band agrees that those are easy comparisons. “I would like to think we go deeper than that,” muses E.R. Dalbec breaks in, picking up E.R.’s sentence in the middle: “but they are our influences! There’s definitely something that makes me play the way I do.” Skalicky nods, “They are definitely not bad company,” and makes a “I mean come on! It’s Sonic Youth!” gesture.

This brings us to a hot-button issue for the Beatings - that of genre, pigeonholes, and general lazy categorization that makes the group’s collective skin crawl. The ire is up as Skalicky, E.R., and Dalbec rage against the genre machine. “The label post-punk is meaningless,” spits E.R., “It’s goofy and it’s stupid.” Dalbec agrees. “What does that even mean? When did punk end?” she asks, and the entire table goes momentarily silent, trying to figure out the moment of punk’s demise. “I think the worst possible thing someone can say to me is that a band has an ‘indie’ sound,” grumbles E.R. “Indie rock doesn’t even mean anything anymore. Everyone’s gotten real mopey and it sounds like... like...” He searches for the phrase, wringing the air in front of his hands away before coming to the damning conclusion: “It sounds like ‘70s crooner-rock.” The three talk with the fervor of people who grew up attached to the idea of indie rock - something fiercely independent in spirit, something that would never show up in a Volkswagen advertisement. “How commercial is that?” asks E.R., throwing his hands up to the sky. Even the violent connotations of their own name causes them fits sometimes, and while they initially claim that they are not violent people, Skalicky thinks a bit, musing, “Well we are, we just turn it inward.” They do all agree that their name is possibly the best marketing ploy ever. What other band name sits directly between the Beastie Boys and the Beatles? “I still love going to the record store and finding us,” smiles E.R.

There’s a slight break in the conversation, but it’s not for a trip to the bar or the restroom. Christy, the lost driver, is back on the line, and E.R.’s directional skills are again called to action. “As well as being a rock band, we also like to provide free public service to the people,” notes Skalicky as E.R. reclaims the cell phone and begins the landmark hunt with poor Christy. The Beatings are good at providing directions, given the fact that their roots span the area from New York City to Boston’s North End. Dalbec grew up in Worcester and now lives in Cambridge. Skalicky has made the Boston-NYC switch many times and currently resides in New York. “It’s an easy drive; sometimes I come back and forth.” The Beatings have trans-state street cred with Dalbec’s strong Worcester background. “I was even in a band called Friends of Ed,” she exclaims, referencing a band created in honor of Wormtown’s alt-rock musician-turned-time traveler Ed McNamara. Dalbec is also closely connected with Rob Dulaney, drummer for Jake Brennan and the Confidence Men, seeing as how she is married to the Confidence Man. While none of the other members of the group can make that claim, they do have their own record label, Midriff Records, which boasts not only offices in Boston and New York, but also other bands that are not the Beatings. It is fairly impressive at any rate, when a band can feel confident about drawing a crowd almost anywhere. The group has toured a few times, traveling outwards to faraway places, like Montana. They find themselves at the point now where they can book a tour based on past shows and built-up respect. While they would probably never boast about it, they have actual fans, people who are not their immediate friends, and people who are actually waiting for them to return. It wasn’t always like this, and the three agree that in their early years, everything was done exclusively on the strength of the music alone, which is not a bad bet when you have the body of work that the Beatings have.

“We had a website and absolutely no content on it, so we put up this philosophy. When people ask what the Beatings means, I just say ‘It’s on our website,’ or I just tell them to listen,” says Skalicky.

Few bands share their own philosophy with the masses, but the Beatings have a Tyler Durden-style mission statement on their website. It prophesizes on the breakdown of society; it says that the party is ending. The band takes on the role of the “flare gun of youth,” urging all to indulge in their vices. It further instructs readers to abandon all safety nets by throwing rocks at church windows, slashing ambulance tires, and dismantling the iron lung.

While the members of the band are all sensible people who are not about to engage in any Project Mayhem-style destruction, the philosophy statement rages out symbolically against all forms of artifice and contrivance. The Beatings are real, and they want the entire world to be real as well. “These memories must be documented. A broken heart only stops hurting when it stops beating,” claims the final words of the statement, almost backwards. The Beatings are here to document everything, the pain and the gain. They are here to embrace the hurt and feeling, and they will take it on themselves for you. Through every part of their identity, the group tells us that it’s going to hurt here and there, but it’s going to be real as well.

The formerly lost Christy walks through the door, delivered by the grace and guidance of the Beatings’ E.R. She sends a drink over with her thanks. The Beatings have been giving directions and holding the door for almost ten years now, and the beat goes on.