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Life/e—cultivate—culture

And the Band Went On and On and On

by e-bluespirit 2004. 8. 27.

 

And the Band Went on and on and on

 

 

Not quite half the Polyphonic Spree in the New Mexico desert. After a breakout performance at last year's South by Southwest festival in Austin, Tex., their vaguely psychedelic music has become ubiquitous.

Danny Clinch

Not quite half the Polyphonic Spree in the New Mexico desert. After a breakout performance at last year's South by Southwest festival in Austin, Tex., their vaguely psychedelic music has become ubiquitous.

 

By ALEC HANLEY BEMIS

Published: August 22, 2004

 

 

LAST March, Tim DeLaughter stood in a desiccatingly hot Texas afternoon with two dozen members of his rock collective, the Polyphonic Spree. They were preparing to be interviewed by MTV, and the 38-year-old Mr. DeLaughter stood out like a standard-issue charismatic frontman. He wore a red and white checkerboard suit that could charitably be described as theatrical. Underneath he wore a pale green shirt only a shade or two less intense than Kermit the Frog's skin.

 

Before MTV's cameras were set to roll, though, he cloaked his eccentric outfit beneath a featureless, white V-neck gown. A moment later, the collection of shaggy twenty- and thirtysomethings milling about did the same, donning white robes identical to Mr. DeLaughter's. The band now looked like a church choir for born-again hippies, which is why the MTV host's first question did not seem out of bounds.

 

"Is viewing the Polyphonic Spree a religious experience?" he asked.

 

Deferring to a bandmate, Michael Turner, Mr. DeLaughter asked: "What do you think, Michael? Do you concur?"

 

With a smirk and a mock sinister Texas drawl, Mr. Turner answered: "Well, sometimes it is. And sometimes it isn't."

 

Suddenly, a bystander darted between Mr. DeLaughter and the camera, looked straight into the lens and yelled, "It's a sick cult!" before running off down the street.

 

The producer yelled cut. The host turned to him and asked, "Should we pick it up from the last question?"

 

"Don't worry," Mr. DeLaughter said as the stranger, still running, faded into the distance. "He's one of us."

 

Mr. DeLaughter and company were standing at a dusty intersection, in front of a mid-size rock club. They were in Austin for the annual South by Southwest Music and Media Convention, a festival and an industry schmoozefest — and a rite of passage both for bands that aspire to be big, not huge, and for the young people who love them. Two years ago, the Polyphonic Spree drove the two hours that separate Austin from their Dallas hometown and played six times in five days. They were an undeniably large group when they arrived, but by the time they left, as the festival's rising stars, they were becoming big in the other sense.

 

In 2004 they returned as the group most embodying the hopes and dreams that feed the communities that feed the festival. Their symphonic, vaguely psychedelic choral music has become so ubiquitous you've probably heard them even if you don't realize it. They were featured in commercials for Apple's iPod and Hewlett-Packard computers and on the soundtrack to the film "Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind."

 

They played a central role in an episode of "Scrubs." Earlier this summer, the group completed a stint as the hand-picked opener on David Bowie's North American road show, the highest-grossing tour of 2004. They will visit New York this week, with performances at Irving Plaza on Tuesday and Wednesday and an appearance on "The Late Show With David Letterman" on Friday. Next Sunday they will perform on the MTV Music Video Awards telecast, a national showcase that has provided innovative bands ranging from Nirvana to the White Stripes an early career boost.

 

Music, however, isn't the only reason the Polyphonic Spree is so beloved. Its popularity has as much to do with its form and modus operandi, both of which differ in crucial ways from that of the usual rock band. First, there is the group's size. The membership has fluctuated over the group's four years of existence, but recently it's stabilized at 23. The members continue to refer to themselves as a rock band, though it should go without saying that most bands — especially not-yet-successful ones — have historically tried to restrict their lineups to about five, if only for financial reasons.

 

Currently the Polyphonic Spree features more than five members singing back-up and further augments the usual alignment of guitar, bass and drums with timpani, French horn and a 6-foot harp.


 

 

 

 

http://www.nytimes.com/2004/08/22/arts/music/22BEMI.html?th