http://www.dallasobserver.com/issues/1994-12-15/music/music2.html MUSIC Home grown Are local record labels a springboard to success, or success itself? By Robert Wilonsky (robert.wilonsky@dallasobserver.com) Published: Thursday, December 15, 1994 Inside its modest confines, Direct Hit Records resembles most any independent record store: CDs, new and used, line one wall; and used LPs and seven-inch singles sit in a bin smack in the middle of the store, facing another wall of new records. Near the store's entrance, a rack displays the latest music magazines, from the most mainstream publications to the more ardent underground fanzines like Maximum Rock and Roll and Flipside. Behind the counter hang dozens of T-shirts advertising such local bands as Bedhead, Lithium X-Mas, the Caffiends, and the Grown-Ups; they are next to an answering machine that often notifies callers the shop's closed for a few minutes while the owner goes out to pick up records. But Direct Hit, which is owned and operated by Kelly Handran and her husband, Sean, in Exposition Park, is not merely a mom-and-pop record store. For several years, it has also been home to a record label that quietly has become one of the best independents in the country and easily Dallas' best record label, a bastion of independence that has released seven-inch singles and the rare CD or 10-inch vinyl by some of this town's finest: Lithium X-Mas, Bedhead, Slowpoke, Brutal Juice, Yeah!Yeah!Yeah!, Baboon, the Grown-Ups, and, next month, Dooms U.K. It's a roster defined by its eclectic nature--a little hard-core, a little avant-garde, a little ska, a little pop and metal--and by its fine taste. Even the worst Direct Hit releases bear repeated listenings, if only because bands like A.S.D. and Trailer Park and Muck Grapa elevate bad into brilliant art. Kelly Handran, who tends to his year-old son Jacob as he talks, likes to describe Direct Hit as a "big family." Unlike most record companies, no contracts are involved between band and label; all deals are made verbally, out of mutual confidence and trust. Direct Hit has no ownership rights to their band's songs, and bands are not obliged to keep releasing singles or albums on the label; they are free to go wherever they choose with their material, to stardom or to obscurity. To have a record released on Direct Hit--and, subsequently, to have it distributed nationally through various contacts--is surprisingly simple. Sometimes, all it takes is a demo cassette and a pleasantly asked "Would you...?"; sometimes, it takes much less. "We're more just a doorway for people to be able to get something out," Handran says. "I think there needs to be that because a lot of people do stuff independently on their own and make up a label name like Telstar Records or whatever, but it's hard to get distribution. If you actually want to get the music out there, you do it this way." Before Bedhead released its first single, "Bedside Table"/"Living Well," on Direct Hit in June 1992, the band had considerable trouble landing gigs; club owners were hesitant to book a band that made such droning, beautiful music, clueless about how to integrate such a sound into venues where loud rock often reverberated. The situation, says Bedhead guitarist Bubba Kadane, was "dismal." But the remarkable single gave the band instant credibility, and soon it was being courted by most every major label around--and refusing to accept offers, even one that promised to leave the label's name off the record. Now on King Coffee's Trance Syndicate Records based in Austin, perhaps the fastest rising indie label in the country, Bedhead knows well the huge advantages of staying small. "Releasing a single is like a business getting a tax number," Kadane says. "It makes you legit and for real. It separates you from the lot of bands that form for two months and disappear. It makes people know you're not goofing around, that you care about working." ----------------------------------- Indy label's a tough act to follow By Manuel Mendoza    Published September 30, 1993 Click here to go back to results. She may be on the edge of motherhood - her baby is due between the time I file this column and when you read it - but that hasn't stopped Kelly Keys and her husband, Sean Handran, from planning another cutting-edge independent music festival and putting out a trio of new 7-inch singles. The owner of Direct Hit Records, an Exposition Park record store and independent record label, is following up last year's artistically successful but financially disastrous two-day Independent Music Festival with a more modest, one-day affair. Headswim, Slowpoke, Yeah! Yeah! Yeah! and the must-see Manhole, Houston's all-female hard-core foursome. The unsigned opening acts are Duck Duck Annihilation, the Grownups and Trailer Park. Direct Hit also has just released singles by Baboon, Bag and Hash Palace and Ms. Keys expects to put out new 7-inchers by Bedhead, Headswim and Slowpoke before year's end, along with the long-awaited full-length Lithium X-Mas CD. On the boards for next year: a Bedhead CD-5 and full-length CDs from Brutal Juice and Manhole. ----------------------------------------- Some far-out zines have origins close to home Relevance: 13 Writer: Bill Marvel     Published: January 14, 1993 Page Number: 3C Word Count: 325 Edition: HOME FINAL Summary: By their very nature, zines are hard to find. Don't look for them on your favorite newsstand. Some comic book stores may carry a few fanzines and amateur comics. Direct Hit Records at 3609 Parry, across from Fair Park, offers a good selection of fan and music zines. Forbidden, which is located just around the corner at 825 Parry, also carries zines. ------------------------------------ Indie keeps rolling out the records By Teresa Gubbins Staff Writer of The Dallas Morning News   Published October 3, 1996 Click here to go back to results. Actions speak louder than words, and Direct Hit Records - the local indie label run by Kelly and Sean Handran (former owners of the now-defunct record store Direct Hit) - is speaking volumes. While others talk about putting out records, Direct Hit actually does it - of course, Direct Hit puts out mostly 7-inch singles at small-volume runs of 500 to 1,000. But the label's schedule is still impressively brisk, with seven releases issued since the beginning of the year. "It's not a particular sound I look for but more an enthusiasm and love of music," Ms. Handran says. The newest batch includes a 7-inch single by Fury III, a new band starring veteran Dallas guitarist Steve Nutt, and a 10-inch EP by moody pop band Girl. To kick off the release, Girl makes an in-store acoustic appearance at Last Beat Records, 2639 Elm St., Friday at 8 p.m. The band then joins Fury III at a party at Vickery Place Tavern, 5039 Willis St., along with Summit 1919, a throw-together "supergroup" featuring members of Comet, Bedhead and rubberbullet. The show begins at 9 p.m. and costs $3. Call (214) 828-4471. ------------------------------------------ http://www.dallasobserver.com/issues/1999-07-08/music/streetbeat2.html Direct Hit, or Miss Mom and pop label says goodbye ... sort of By Zac Crain (zac.crain@dallasobserver.com) Published: Thursday, July 8, 1999 Though Direct Hit Records hasn't quite been the same since Kelly Handran was forced to close her store in Exposition Park in July 1995, the mom-and-pop label's catalog reads like a history of Dallas and Denton music over the past 10 years. After all, Direct Hit released Bedhead's debut single ("Bedside Table"/"Living Well") in June 1992, as well as the first records by Baboon, The Dooms U.K., Brutal Juice, UFOFU, and The Grown-Ups. It's a list unequaled in talent or diversity by almost any label, here or anywhere. For a few years, it looked as though Direct Hit could have been to Dallas what Sub Pop was to Seattle or Twin/Tone was to Minneapolis-St. Paul. And it probably should have been. Direct Hit always worked because the Handrans thought with their hearts and their ears instead of their bank account, releasing records by bands they liked just because someone had to do it. Since forming the label in 1989, the Handrans have also put out discs by the likes of Slowpoke, Mess, Lithium X-Mas, Fury III, MK Ultra, as well as U.F.O. Psychic Experiment, which featured, among others, Bedhead's Bubba Kadane (who briefly co-operated the label), Lithium X-Mas' Chris Merlick and Mark Ridlin, and John Freeman. Even the projects that didn't pan out -- the Funland-UFOFU split single, for one -- were more interesting than many local labels' actual releases. No other label in town boasts the impressive history of Direct Hit, and it's likely no one ever will. In the next month or so, that history will end, at least as far as Dallas is concerned. Sean Handran relocated to San Francisco a few weeks ago, looking for work and a new house for his family. Kelly and the couple's two young sons -- 5-year-old Jacob and 4-year-old Daniel -- will soon join him, hopefully before it's time to enroll Jacob in kindergarten. Whether the label and its distinctive Kennedy- in-the-crosshairs logo will follow the Handrans to the West Coast remains to be seen; Kelly says she has been trying to pull the plug on Direct Hit for the last few years. The label is little more than a back catalog and some good memories now, its new releases in the past few years so few that even young Daniel Handran could keep track. But there has always been another band knocking on the Handrans' door, asking for a little help. And more often than not, Kelly says, she can't turn them down, even though she admits that she has tired of dealing with bands on a regular basis, especially now that she has two children running around the house. Yet even as the Handran clan prepares to move across the country, Direct Hit is readying two new projects for release: singles by New Jersey's The Secession Movement and a "sentient cybernetic organism" from Little Rock, Arkansas, known as Exit Human -- the first non-local records in Direct Hit's existence. "I said after the Grown-Ups that that was it," Kelly says, referring to the disc Direct Hit released early last year that collected every song the now-defunct Denton ska band ever committed to tape, including the 10-inch single the group recorded for Direct Hit. "And then [The Secession Movement] sent me their stuff. And now, Brandon Curtis and his band [Captain Audio] want to do something with us. So, never say never, I guess." In addition to the Captain Audio release (which Curtis recently said will likely be a double seven-inch), Kelly says, the label may also put out the long-delayed debut by Pleasant Grove. But she doesn't want to speculate too much about upcoming release schedules. The Secession Movement and Exit Human singles could be the period at the end of sentence the Handrans began a decade ago, or the beginning of a new one. It's too soon to tell, and Kelly has given up planning for the future, at least when it comes to Direct Hit. "I tried to do that a long time ago, but everything always changed," she says, laughing. "Now, all I can tell you is what I have in my hand right now." Unfortunately, what we have in our hands right now is the end of an era. So, send your goodbye notes and best wishes to the Handrans at direct_hit_queen@yahoo.com. After all they've given us, we owe them that much. -------------------------------------------- Ghosts in the machine When the vinyl jukebox dies, so will a little piece of the music it played By Robert Wilonsky Published: Thursday, April 27, 1995 http://www.dallasobserver.com/issues/1995-04-27/music/music2.html For bars and restaurants not catering to a nostalgic crowd, opting instead to play the Top 40, vinyl jukeboxes are simply impractical. Though scores of small independent labels (such as Sub Pop in Seattle or Dallas' own Direct Hit) release seven-inch singles every month--which begs the question, Why no indie-rock jukebox in Deep Ellum?--major labels have long ceased manufacturing anything but newer country singles on vinyl. --------------------------------------------- Major Mistakes Signing to a record label can be bad for a band's health. So why do they keep doing it? By Christina Rees Published: Thursday, February 11, 1999 http://www.dallasobserver.com/issues/1999-02-11/news/feature2.html Locally, indies such as One Ton, Last Beat, Carpe Diem, steve, Direct Hit, and Jeff Liles' HEIRESS-aesthetic are responsible for some of the best music to come out of this town: Cafe Noir, Slow Roosevelt, Captain Audio, Meredith Miller, and Brian Houser are just some of the acts on those labels' rosters. Up in Denton, tiny labels such as Quality Park (Little Grizzly) and Hot Link (the Dooms U.K.) guarantee that the college town's thriving music scene is heard by more than just the kids that catch the bands onstage at Dan's Bar and Rubber Gloves. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Off the record After seven wacky years, 14 Records prepares to close its doors By Robert Wilonsky Published: Thursday, July 27, 1995 http://www.dallasobserver.com/issues/1995-07-27/music/music4.html But in a few weeks--on August 14, appropriately enough--14 Records will shut down for good, yet another local independent record store to give up the good fight. Just a few days after Direct Hit Records in Exposition Park announced it was emptying its bins and closing its doors--leaving Dallas with one less record store that "specializes in punk and alternative musical records--vinyl, tapes, and CDs," as the store's answering machine says--Burnett is waving the white flag and pricing his merchandise to sell, sell, sell. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------- Trance-induced state Austin label showcases some of the best Texas has to offer By Robert Wilonsky Published: Thursday, January 26, 1995 http://www.dallasobserver.com/issues/1995-01-26/music/music4.html Unlike a Direct Hit Records in Exposition Park--perhaps Dallas' closest parallel to Trance in ideology; they share Bedhead in their catalogs--that has a limited distribution through indie record chains, Trance currently has an amazingly good distribution and production deal with Touch and Go (and Trance's European imprint, Southern). Trance provides the music and the artwork for the albums, and Touch and Go manufactures, distributes, and even promotes the releases. Trance, in fact, was the first label Touch and Go distributed other than its own imprint; because of the deal's success, such labels as Merge (home to Superchunk) and Drag City (Pavement) followed suit. Touch and Go also helps with the bookkeeping and, when all the money's taken in, Trance gives 60 percent of the profits to the band--which is 10 percent more than Touch and Go, "one of the most honest labels in the world" (so says Stewart). ---------------------------------------------------------------------- Slipped discs Are Virgin and Tower really the enemy, or can the indie stores fight back? By Zac Crain Published: Thursday, January 14, 1999 http://www.dallasobserver.com/issues/1999-01-14/music/music.html Yet as good as it is, CD World is a relic of the past. Back in the day, Dallas used to be full of stores like CD World, record shops staffed by real music fans who would sell you what you wanted and what you didn't know you needed. But they have all succumbed in recent years to chains that use cheap CDs in order to lure customers to the stereo and washing-machine departments; they've fallen victim to stores that dazzle with breadth of selection at the expense of personal service. Neal Caldwell's VVV Records, Metamorphosis and Direct Hit Records, 14 Records, and Last Beat Records have all shut down in recent years; they have been chained up. -------------------------------------------------------------------- Reviews Published: Thursday, November 24, 1994 http://www.dallasobserver.com/issues/1994-11-24/music/music4.html And you can be a grown-up, too The Grown-Ups 10" The Grown-Ups Direct Hit Records To dismiss the Grown-Ups, Denton's resident ska revivalists, as sheer novelty--as some locals are wont to do--would miss the point: this is ska redone for a new generation, one raised on Star Wars and comic books, not Margaret Thatcher and punk-rock race riots. When they chant, "I'm a grown-up, you can be a grown-up, too" on their anthem, they're not just Wang Chunging out self-reference but defining themselves as kids who want to be taken seriously (and invite you on the ride); if nothing else, they stomp and skank with the authority of predecessors like the Specials and Selector. And their version of the "Cantina" theme from Star Wars isn't ska, isn't novelty, but a sheer work of wonder. --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Putting it to bed They rocked quietly, and now Bedhead ends the same way By Robert Wilonsky Published: Thursday, August 6, 1998 http://www.dallasobserver.com/issues/1998-08-06/music/music2.html Bedhead has a van it would like to sell you. They will not need it anymore, because there will be no more tours--and, for that matter, no more records or anything else. Bedhead, you see, is dead, broken up, disbanded, the band's ashes scattered into the thousand-degree wind that blew the Kadane brothers from Wichita Falls to Dallas to, in Matt's case, New York and then Boston. Three albums and a handful of EPs and singles later, and it's goodbye and farewell and nice to know ya, chief. Just like that, one of the very best bands ever to have come from Dallas disappears--with a one-page press release written by Matt, a statement devoid of sentimentality or drama but long on explanation. Finally, after seven years of listening to him half-bury his words beneath droning-then-exploding guitars, Matt speaks clearly--about, of all things, the death of the band he and brother Bubba started at the beginning of the decade. "We are all still friends--friendship has nothing to do with this," Matt writes, explaining that the band can no longer sustain itself with its members spread across the country: Matt is in graduate school in Boston, guitarist Tench Coxe is in New York, while Bubba, bassist Chris Wheat, and drummer Trini Martinez remain in Dallas. Because of the distance, he writes, "it is nearly impossible to learn new songs, and none of us wants to play in a Bedhead tribute band. More to the point, we don't want to tour anymore, and it is by touring that we have compensated for being spread across the country. If it weren't for the distance, would we still be breaking up? I think all of us agree that if it weren't for the distance, we would have broken up and killed each other, in that order, three years ago." Unlike the end of Course of Empire, which disbanded last month amidst so much frustration with record labels and radio stations and a career spent fighting battle after battle, the demise of Bedhead is not accompanied by so much melodrama. In the end, it's just a band breakup, one of those "inevitable and ubiquitous" (so says Matt) things that happen when the gas runs out and it's time to abandon the car on the side of the road. "It's not like we're married," Bubba says, matter-of-factly. The band has, in seven years, created a rather estimable catalog that includes three magnificent LPs (1993's WhatFunLifeWas, '96's Beheaded, and the recent Transaction de Novo), two EPs (4SongCDEP in '94 and The Dark Ages in '96), and two singles on Direct Hit Records. No one could ever accuse Bedhead of dicking around, even with its members separated by so much distance. And each one of those albums and EPs and singles was truly remarkable, the sound made when a whisper turns into an explosion. Theirs was a melancholia that was at once serene and devastating. Rock and roll's standard tools (guitar, vocals, bass, drums) were turned inside- out and upside-down till guitars sounded like string sections and the drums sounded like a roller coaster off its tracks (especially on "Psychosomatica" off the Steve Albini-produced Transaction de Novo). With the exception of, well, Ronnie Dawson, no other local musician in this city's history has compiled a better back catalog. And no other Dallas band ever puts as much of itself into its songs--the Kadanes' were confessionals, but never so revealing you couldn't put yourself into the song without feeling like an unwelcome guest. In the end, it was the Kadanes who decided to end the band, shortly after Bedhead returned from its European tour earlier in the summer. (The last Bedhead performance was a radio session for VPRO, Holland's national radio based in Amsterdam, on May 20.) After all, they wrote the songs, sang the words, played the guitars, taught the rest of the guys their notes, and defined the sound--they were Bedhead, in essence. That is not to discount the other members' contributions, not at all. Without Coxe, Wheat, and Martinez, Bedhead would not have sounded the same--they were as essential to the making of music as the electricity needed to power the instruments, amps, and DAT machines. Coxe--a member of the local rock scene for even longer than the Kadanes, having played in End Over End and Three on a Hill before joining Orange Schubert, Bedhead's precursor--provided the third guitar that pushed the Kadanes over the edge on songs such as "Bedside Table" and "Exhume." And Wheat and Martinez were the rhythm section that gave a little muscle to the songs' fragile bones. Bedhead will still release one more single through the now-defunct Trance Syndicate label, which Butthole Surfers drummer King Coffey closed down in recent weeks. "Lepidoptera/Leper" (one side recorded by Albini, the other by Leaning House Records owner Mark Elliott) will hit stores in October, marking the final Trance and Bedhead record. After that, who knows--the Kadanes will likely record together, but for what label and under what name remains to be seen. (There are also some jazz recordings and other live tapes still in the vaults that may or may not see release at a later date.) But if the Kadanes record together again, they will not use Bedhead's name, despite the fact the name has tremendous national and international rep (even if Dallas long took the band for granted). After all, they counted Luna, Yo La Tengo, Bob Mould, and Come among their biggest fans and managed to sell out New York City's legendary Knitting Factory and San Francisco's Bottom of the Hill. (According to SoundScan, which doesn't count independent record stores, Bedhead sold more CDs in the Bay Area than in any other metropolitan area.) "Because it's so inevitable and ubiquitous, a band disbanding should not necessarily be a sad event," Matt insists. "Bubba and I made music for over a decade before Bedhead formed; in some form we will continue. Tench is starting graduate school in the fall. Trini will accidentally build a house with his bare hands in the near future. And Wheat? God only knows. A statistic or a household name by the turn of the millennium. In any case, we'll all see each other, just not with strung guitars around or necks or drumsticks in hand. So does anyone want to buy a van?" So sad. ------------------------------------------------------------------ The sound and Fury III Sometimes, Stephen Nutt just can't get out of bed By Zac Crain Published: Thursday, June 11, 1998 http://www.dallasobserver.com/issues/1998-06-11/music/music2.html Every city has a few musicians like Stephen Nutt--talented performers who, for whatever reason, never found an audience. They probably never will, yet they've stuck around forever anyway, working as temps and busboys so they can keep their rock-and-roll dreams alive. They never made a fall-back plan, because they didn't want to fall back and never thought they would. They refuse to hang it up, because there's a chance that the next song they write will be The One--the song that leads them from obscurity to the top of the pops and the front of magazine covers. They know it's unlikely to happen after all this time, but as long as there is that chance, the six-string stays out of the pawn shop. Nutt, the singer-guitarist in Fury III, long ago gave up expecting to see his mug on the cover of Rolling Stone. Still, he appears to be only half-kidding when he asks me to "make him famous." He says it with a smile on his face, but you can see behind the grin a man who knows that, at 34, he's only got a few more bright tomorrows left before he's stuck in a Holiday Inn bar somewhere singing "Yesterday" three times a night. He's a bit more optimistic than the characters that pop up in his songs--bitter men who repeatedly fuck things up because they have nothing better to do--but Nutt knows the score. After a decade on the scene, playing in bands such as A Thousand Words, Nutt is aware that he might not get another shot, so he's put all his faith into this one, hoping that all the sacrifices he's made and shitty jobs he's worked will be rewarded with his name on a record contract and enough money to quit his catering job. Or at least enough money to skip out on one spirit-crushing Texas summer. "Texans don't really have anyplace to go in the summer," Nutt says. "You know, people in New York and on the East Coast can go to places like the Hamptons or something like that when it gets too hot. We don't have anything like that. If we wanted to go somewhere like that in Texas, it's hours away." Even if the Hamptons were located just north of Denton, Nutt would probably end up staying at home. You can't expect someone who sings lyrics like "I spend my days looking for my name in the obituary column" to inject much change into his life. Just like the narrator in many of his songs, Nutt is torn between needing to do something and wanting to give up. Giving up usually wins. Over lunch at Cafe Brazil, he brings up the subject of leaving Dallas permanently several times, at one point wondering exactly why he was still living here. But he never sounded too serious about the idea or even concerned enough about the heat to consider moving. Sure, it's hot in Texas, but I can't do anything about it, so why bother? Wearing purple jeans on a day that has ambulances circling old-folks homes like vultures, Nutt's only concession to the 104-degree weather is a recently acquired buzz-cut that makes him look even lankier than before. The heat won't be the only problem facing Nutt and Fury III this summer. The band just began the exhausting--and often fruitless--task of pursuing a record deal, a wild goose chase that has killed more than a few bands and even more friendships. Shopping around a recently recorded batch of songs, Nutt isn't looking for the type of record deal that Geffen gave the tomorrowpeople. He just wants a label that will release the record and not take too long doing it. "Hopefully, by the end of the summer we'll find someone to put it out," Nutt says. "We're trying to find labels that are small enough where they'll have money to manufacture it, but it won't be so slow as a medium-size label. Some of the medium-size labels, like Mammoth, even if they decide to put it out, [their schedules] are full until the end of the year. So, we're looking at pretty much the smallest labels around, like TeenBeat." It seems strange that one of the main factors in Fury III's label search is time. So far, the band hasn't exactly been very conscious of the clock. The single the band released on Direct Hit in 1996--which featured such loving couplets as, "Next time I see you I hope it'll be an accident / Your 15 minutes under the wheels of a truck would be well spent"--only recently made its way into the hands of college-radio program directors. "It took a while for us to get enough to send out, because the [single] covers are hand- screened," Nutt explains. "I wouldn't even bother sending vinyl to commercial stations. Even a lot of the program directors at college stations said that their DJs didn't know how to use a turntable. So, I guess we won't be doing vinyl anymore." His voice sounds wistful when he talks about giving up vinyl. This is, after all, the same man who was "really hoping that the rumor about CDs not being permanent was true." It's not unexpected that Nutt remains devoted to vinyl. His lyrics may sound like fodder for Jerry Springer, but his musical inspiration comes from a time when vinyl was the only format. The songs on the Direct Hit single and unreleased EP recall late-'60s British rock, especially Something Else-era Kinks. Surprisingly, Nutt only started listening to that band about three years ago. "Well, I may have heard them before then, but I didn't really get it until recently," he says. The connection between the Kinks and Nutt goes deeper than a few borrowed riffs, though. "I think I can probably relate to Ray Davies' point of view regarding what he does and how he relates to society," Nutt says. "He's not in the rock-and-roll clique, but he's not a normal person." Nutt has never been part of Dallas' rock-and-roll clique. You won't find him lounging around the Last Beat complex or hanging out with Aden Holt. He's still sort of an outsider, even though he's been a part of the scene for close to a decade. Nutt may share Davies' point of view about being a musician, but his real kindred spirit is absurdist playwright Samuel Beckett, the author of such plays as Waiting For Godot and Endgame. "I think Samuel Beckett was the easiest to...well, I had to read something three times before I got anything out of it, but the idea of necessity and futility came about, and I can really relate to that. Sometimes the idea of getting out of bed--you have to do it, but what's the point, really? Everything you do is pretty much a waste of time." An affinity for Beckett provides Nutt's songs with an undercurrent of bitterness and uselessness. The music may be bouncy, but the songs are filled with allusions to betrayal and inertia. A song like "Kickstand" off the Direct Hit single sounds almost breezy if you don't pay strict attention to the lyrics, which include lines like "I was dreaming again this morning about breaking your arms." As Nutt reads some of the lyrics, he says, "It's actually a cherry- pop song." For a second, he looks like he actually means it. "I'm probably more obsessed with death than most pop songwriters, but I think it's a worthy thing to be obsessed with," Nutt says. "You can only write so many songs about relationships. I've obsessed about those sort of things before, betrayal and all that, but death can kind of blot out all that." A turning point in Nutt's writing came from, of all sources, Regis Philbin. The song, "Sad Truth Revealed," is a study in how pathetic one person can be, and it was one of the first that Nutt wrote from someone else's perspective...sort of. "Usually I'm interested in people's motivations, so I'm scrutinizing somebody I know," he explains. "In this case, it just happened to be Regis Philbin. A guy that's so--I don't know how you would describe Regis--there's got to be something really evil about him." Nutt laughs. "I can just picture him as some nasty, pill-popping fiend. The narrator is willing to trade places with Regis, because he can imagine how shitty it might be to be Regis Philbin, but what would it be like to be somebody who would trade places with Regis Philbin just to have a life of any kind? I guess that was during the period of time when I didn't get out of bed very much." For the time being, Nutt is getting out of bed pretty regularly as the band prepares to return to the stage after some time off recruiting a new bass player. He has actually enjoyed the time off from performing, because it has allowed him to catch up on some band business, like mailing out copies of the single to radio stations. Still, you can tell he's itching to get back in front of a microphone. Nutt's what's-the-point? outlook has yet to seep into his desire to be a musician. As he begins to walk into his house after our interview, he turns around and leans into the car. "Hey, make us famous so we can quit our day jobs." This time, Nutt isn't kidding. He even looks like he believes it could happen. ---------------------------------------------------------------- Their so-called lives Girl struggles to find its place among the outcasts By Arnold Pan Published: Thursday, September 21, 1995 http://www.dallasobserver.com/issues/1995-09-21/music/music4.html Being in a band can be like reliving high school. It's social hierarchies and gawky self- definition all over again, trying to find one's own group and struggling to fit in with a particular "scene." As in adolescence, there are punks, hippies, metalheads, Edge listeners-- the outcasts and the in crowd. And through all the image-conscious posing and identity- forming, nothing--not a so-called life, not a so-called career as a starving musician--seems to develop fast enough. Such is the way 23-year-old Chris Purdy approximates the experiences of his band Girl, which has only now begun to move out of its awkward developmental stages. Decked in a ratty brown T-shirt, jeans, and a cap turned backwards, the guitarist and singer slacks outside Last Beat Records on Elm Street with Girl's other 23-year-old guitarist, Jared Young. With his well-groomed looks and calm demeanor, Young is straight man to the excitable and boisterous Purdy, who seems scruffy in comparison. As Young sneaks a smoke under Last Beat's awning in the afternoon sun, the two look like they're idling away lunch period before heading back to class. "There are a lot of good people [on the scene]," Purdy says, his voice thick with a drawl. "But it's like high school, you know? To live in Dallas is a lot like high school. It's like there are cliques. And the thing about cliques, they're all to the extreme. And that's the thing about this band, [but] the only thing we're extreme about is our music. We're not extreme about, like, who we're going to hang with or who we're going to smoke pot with." Yet the Arlington-based Girl still struggles, like a 15-year-old transferred to a new school halfway through the semester, to find its own niche in the musical community; these four young men, playing their unrefined and unadorned brand of pop, are just trying to be heard above the clamor of louder voices, and they are finding it difficult. As the few songs on two unreleased demo tapes attest, the fledgling quartet--which also includes bassist Chris Purdue and drummer Quincy Holloway--sports a vaguely familiar but stand-alone sound. It's one propped up by pretty but rudimentary guitar work, delicate hooks and sturdy melodies; Girl's are deceptively downcast pop tunes, so much light streaming through so many dark notes and words. If their life does indeed resemble high school, Girl would be the loner clad in black sitting in the back of the class, too timid to raise his hand but only because he knows all the answers. Although Purdy and Young had kicked around the concept of Girl for a couple of years, the group has only become a serious pursuit within the past four months. The two men conceived of the band when they worked together at the now-defunct Mad Hatter's in Fort Worth. They were joined by a common appreciation for records their friends scorned; almost begrudgingly, Purdy reveals his and Young's admiration for Pale by Toad the Wet Sprocket, an album "everybody seemed to be making fun of us for having," he shrugs. "Chris showed me some songs he was working on," Young explains. "He asked me if I could help out, and I did, but I just thought the songs were so good that I wanted to stick with it. I could really tell, really see the progression of the songs. It has turned into something I really like." The songs Young speaks of are ones Purdy had stockpiled since he was the drummer for Slowpoke, which he quit more than a year ago. After spending seven years behind the drum kit--including two and a half in Slowpoke, during which time he played on the band's 1993 Grass Records debut Mad Chen--Purdy claims he "achieved whatever it is I wanted to achieve drum-wise." He says his stint in Slowpoke gave him the confidence to pursue songwriting and to work on his singing and guitar playing. "I just wanted to be in a band where it wasn't just one guy running the show or anything," Purdy says. "I wanted to become a songwriter. I just wanted to be in a band where the emphasis wasn't our attitude or the way we looked or how much feedback we used. I just wanted to be in a band where the only thing that was important was the four of us playing songs that were really good." The band set out to record two sets of demos earlier this year, both of which hint at an amazing band hiding underneath lo-fi and low-budget production. They're sweet, sincere, sad, bare-bones affairs that recall the haunting British sound of Stephen Merritt's 6ths and Alex Chilton's somber take on pop; they're chilling and compelling at once, capable of dragging you down and lifting you up at the same time. Both tapes begin with the unforgettable "I Think It Just Stopped," the anthem of the outcast: "Maybe I'm like no one," Purdy sings, "This is what it sounds like when others die." Though the lyric comes out a bit stilted, Purdy choking on those last three words, his flat and folksy vocals evoke a clear emotion about an unsatisfied life; they keep the song in check, keep it from descending into melodrama, make it more tangible and evocative. The quiet "Making a Funnel Out of an Observer," a ballad in which the acoustic lead guitar is underlined by some hauntingly beautiful reverb, is a stark contrast to the catchy "Stopped." Purdy sings he's "getting out of control," stretching out the words until he sounds like he means it. But it's on songs like "Fiesta" where the band, and Purdy's reserved songwriting, shine. Stripped down and without drums, "Fiesta" (with its great and nonsensical couplet "This isn't a masquerade/This isn't a masturbate") chimes and strums and drifts along almost aimlessly until it reaches a sudden and surprising end. Purdy's voice almost cracks as he sings "Don't want to ask, 'Is that all?'"--vague desperation filling the song's every empty space. Purdy cites such pre-punk alternatives as Big Star and the Velvet Underground as bands that inform his songwriting, hinting at Girl's dense and broodingly open sound. Purdy figures Girl's untrendy ways have slowed the band's progress towards gaining attention because they are less a product of now and more of a nod toward then, not so accessible for audiences craving catchy upbeat pop songs. "With that [second] tape--and this is probably something that hurt us--I tried to put songs on there that were real diverse," Purdy says. "Those last two songs ['Making a Funnel' and 'Fiesta']...without drums on them, are probably the best songs we recorded." The tapes have received some interest from local indies like Last Beat and Direct Hit, as well as Memphis' Ardent Records, which is owned by Big Star drummer Jody Stephens and is the home for Dallas' Spot. Though Girl is eager to cut a seven-inch with a label or to release a do-it-yourself cassette, for now the quartet is focusing on practicing and honing its live act. It's only recently that Girl has been playing in front of crowds, opening for other bands at places like the Engine Room in Fort Worth and Denton's Kharma Cafe. And, again, the band is finding it is not easy to be accepted. Purdy recalls opening for the tongue-in-pierced-cheek punk band Ethyl Merman at the Major Theatre recently, describing how the hardcore audience expressed its dislike for Girl's brand of pop by throwing things. "And I egged them on," Purdy says. "I just yelled at them and gave them the finger. It's like whatever has happened and wherever we go, even whenever we practice, something just happens, you know? We've only played six, seven times. And every time, we can tell some hilarious story of what happened. It kind of feels sometimes like it's us against the world. ------------------------------------------------------------------- Welcome to Hell's Lobby The area's best--maybe only--real "music scene" can be found in Denton By Arnold Pan Published: Thursday, July 27, 1995 http://www.dallasobserver.com/issues/1995-07-27/music/music.html In fact, the label was inspired in large part by the idea of giving Dover's space-rock pals MK Ultra an opportunity to record and release their work. "The main reason I [helped to start] this label was the first time I saw MK Ultra," Dover says. "They're the best band in the world. I started going to see them and I started going crazy just to get copies of the tape, running around to different people's houses, going, 'Listen to the tape! Listen to the tape!' Before you know it, in less than a year, they'll sell the place out every time they play at the Kharma." MK Ultra's singer-guitarist Chris Plavidal is actually a newcomer to Denton, having moved there only six months earlier. The Houstonian came to Denton via Fort Worth--where he attended TCU and graduated with a double major in English and history--because Denton "seemed like a fun place to live." "There are a lot of bands [in Fort Worth], but there's not really an outlet for them," he explains. "There are a couple of places to play, [but] people usually don't come. Here, it's really different. Everybody is open to stuff and people are really cool about bands doing different new things here." MK Ultra plays to the listenable, melodic side of experimentalism, drawing upon the psychedelia of the Flaming Lips and early Pink Floyd along with the indie noise stuff of Tortoise and Gastr del Sol. Their only recording to date, a seven-inch single on Dallas' Direct Hit Records, is a well-crafted work, startlingly understated and refreshing for a first effort. If MK Ultra has the goods, getting them to an audience has been difficult. Plavidal idles in neutral as his bandmates continue their studies at TCU, all of them impatiently waiting to see how far they can take MK Ultra, caught as it is in the throes of the growing pains so common to Denton's college-aged groups. The single is selling well, but is available only at shows because of distribution delays. The band has yet to record the long-planned EP for Atomic Sound, which has had its own development stunted by a lack of funds and time. More frustratingly, those good gigs on which to build a solid foundation have been few and far between. Though MK Ultra has outgrown the Kharma--fans are often forced to eavesdrop from outside--Rick's Place isn't yet a viable option, and the band has suffered disappointing turnouts in Deep Ellum. --------------------------------------- Blast from the past In days of old, when nights were bold By Matt Weitz Published: Thursday, August 29, 1996 http://www.dallasobserver.com/issues/1996-08-29/music/music4.html Direct Hit Records will be having a record release party at the Bar of Soap September 1 for a gaggle of less-than-LP-size vinyl: a 7-inch from punksters Mess, another from instrumental surfers the Stingrays, and a 10-inch from the band Trailer Park, which Direct Hit honcho Kelly Hendren describes as "drunk rock for the eager." Festivities commence 9ish and all three bands will play… ------------------------------------------------------------------ The art of implication Vince Bell's been dead once, and he's got the record to prove it By Robert Wilonsky Published: Thursday, February 8, 1996 http://www.dallasobserver.com/issues/1996-02-08/music/music2.html Scene, heard Direct Hit may no longer exist as a record store, but the same-named label is still up and running. Kelly Handran, who began the label out of the Exposition Park store she and husband Sean ran until last year, says the label is releasing three seven-inch singles simultaneously within the next few weeks--one from Girl (fronted by Chris Clardy, formerly of Slowpoke), a split single featuring the Mullens and Mess, and another from the Mood Swings (featuring Joe Jarvis from A.S.D.). Following the release of those three records, which should be in stores within the month, Direct Hit will release a split single from UFOFU and Funland and another from Dooms U.K.... --------------------------------------------------------------------------- Indie labels toss party for cash infusion Publish Date: October 22, 1992 Word Count: 664 Document ID: 0ED3D272FACB90D2 Reeling from recent financial woes, independent record labels Direct Hits, Scratched Records and Staplegun Records threw themselves a benefit party late Saturday night at an undisclosed warehouse in East Dallas. The after-hours show featured performances by Dallas bands Lithium X-Mas and ASD, plus a carnival-style "freak show.' Among the crowd of about 200 people who showed up were such indie stalwarts as Jim Heath (of Reverend Horton Heat), Kathy Blaylock (of Dallas » Purchase this article ----------------------------------- Can't break the chains Big competitors shackle independent record stores Publish Date: July 27, 1995 Word Count: 811 Document ID: 0ED3D5E192DDB788 Alternative music is killing the record store. Make that record stores. Two local independents, Direct Hit Records in Exposition Park and 14 Records on Greenville Avenue, are about to shut their doors for good. Kelly Keys Handran and her husband, Sean, will close Direct Hit on July 31 with in-store performances by Lithium Xmas and the Mullins; James "Big Bucks" Burnett closes 14 Records on, appropriately, Aug. 14. Competing against the big chains has become » Purchase this article ----------------------------------------------------------------------------- Fireworks on independents' day Alternative bands end festival with some flashy playing Publish Date: August 11, 1992 Word Count: 530 Document ID: 0ED3D25A32A5759C   Despite a disappointing turnout and wilting heat -- let alone the premature announcement that its second day was canceled -- the Independent Music Festival delivered an energetic second day of underground music Sunday at Trees. From early afternoon to past midnight, a trickle of numbed but grateful music fans saw performances by a handful of significant, if obscure, bands from around the country. At the end of Saturday's festivities, which attracted only 300 fans to the » Purchase this article ---------------------------------------------- Small audience hears big sounds 15 bands construct solid sets of music at independent festival Publish Date: August 9, 1992 Word Count: 410 Document ID: 0ED3D259AC9B1540   Moving along a continuum from twisted '60s idealism to punk nihilism, 15 bands descended on the Fair Park Band Shell Saturday to thrash and wail about the state of the world and the state of their minds. The underground rock scene represented at the all-day Independent Music Festival contained elements of psychedelia, punk, art-noise and junk culture. The small audience of 300 -- the band shell can accommodate 4,500 -- consisted largely of local musicians, club workers and other » Purchase this article -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Indie keeps rolling out the records Publish Date: October 3, 1996 Word Count: 618 Document ID: 0ED3D6D954E93975 Actions speak louder than words, and Direct Hit Records - the local indie label run by Kelly and Sean Handran (former owners of the now-defunct record store Direct Hit) - is speaking volumes. While others talk about putting out records, Direct Hit actually does it - of course, Direct Hit puts out mostly 7-inch singles at small-volume runs of 500 to 1,000. But the label's schedule is still impressively brisk, with seven releases issued since the beginning of the year. » Purchase this article --------------------------------------------------------------------------- MANHOLE Publish Date: January 27, 1994 Word Count: 249 Document ID: 0ED3D42BE91915B9 Whether or not Manhole considers itself a riot-grrrl band, the Houston foursome's fearsome music deserves to be considered in the same company with the great Bikini Kill, who started the feminist-rock movement. Like Bikini Kill, Manhole never will be featured on MTV or in Rolling Stone (although Entertainment Weekly did a story on BK last week), which is just fine. The band has an underground following that stretches from Texas to Germany, and has opened for such luminaries » Purchase this article ------------------------------------------------------------------------ Can't break the chains Big competitors shackle independent record stores Publish Date: July 27, 1995 Word Count: 811 Document ID: 0ED3D5E192DDB788 Alternative music is killing the record store. Make that record stores. Two local independents, Direct Hit Records in Exposition Park and 14 Records on Greenville Avenue, are about to shut their doors for good. Kelly Keys Handran and her husband, Sean, will close Direct Hit on July 31 with in-store performances by Lithium Xmas and the Mullins; James "Big Bucks" Burnett closes 14 Records on, appropriately, Aug. 14. Competing against the big chains has become » Purchase this article ------------------------------------------------------------------------- KIDS ON THE EDGE Straight Edge teens don't do drugs or alcohol -- but they do have an attitude Publish Date: June 27, 1990 Word Count: 996 Document ID: 0ED3D10E72706ABA He's every parent's nightmare, standing in front of the bins in the record store: head cropped, T-shirt emblazoned with a picture of some monster demon from Hell, nose ring -- for godsakes -- and a big, black X tatooed on the back of his hand. Is this the same kid who, just six months ago, was into nothing more alarming than Nintendo and skateboarding, who could be counted upon for an encouraging word? The kid whose parents thought they understood him? Now he stays » Purchase this article -------------------------------------------------------- MAKING WAVES Dallas club scene rides the wild surf sound Publish Date: May 22, 1997 Word Count: 879 Document ID: 0ED3D916A44E9CD4 Surf music might not make a whole lot of sense in Dallas, where the biggest body of water most people see is the five-gallon bubbler at the doctor's office. But even a city without a wave in sight can wrap its arms around a vintage musical genre whose most articulate _expression of emotion can be summed up in a single word: "Cowabunga. " What havoc Quentin Tarantino wreaked when he opened his 1994 film Pulp Fiction with Dick Dale's 1962 hit, » Purchase this article
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