Thursday, June 10, 1999 | 4:42 a.m.
This article was first published on March 3, 1998.
The Huntridge Theater is having one of those nights that make management giddy. If it isn't a capacity house, they're close enough not to tell the difference by sight. Pop-rock cherubs Everclear head the bill; underneath them is Jimmie's Chicken Shack (tastes like...Anthrax!) and a new British group. The headbanging element is out in force, but is tempered by equal amounts of young girls hoping to get a bead on Art Alexakis, a few local musicians and a smattering of the usual suspects.
Just after the British trio's set, the room breaks down to its components: the musicians find other musicians to talk shop, the smokers march to the patio in a nic-fit juggernaut, the teenage girls up front scream "Everclear! Everclear! Everclear!" over and over, as if the Portland band got lost somewhere backstage. It is in the theater's lobby-where members of 12-Volt Sex and Inside Scarlet are shooting the breeze with the Extreme Radio camp - that I hear the first declaration of many.
"Did you hear that first band?" someone asks. "They're going to blow the other two away."
It's true. If I were headlining that evening, I would be reluctant to follow "Descend"-a rousing anthem to isolationism, driven by a Nirvana-like rhythm section and wailing, almost supernatural chorus: "If I could be all by myself, I could be free."
It's not the first time Feeder has been tagged as explosive, and it won't be the last. The band came together scarcely three years ago, when vocalist/ guitarist Grant Nicholas and drummer Jon Lee hired bassist Taka Hirose from the want-ads ("eccentric Japanese bass player seeks band"), and built their charge by degrees: nonstop clubbing, a few EPs, larger venues, an album, an opening slot with the Foo Fighters ("They were cool," gushes Lee. "Lovely guys. We'd love to play with them again").
Recently, the band played an in-store performance at an HMV record store in Portsmouth-they plugged in, started up, and before anyone knew it, the store was mobbed with crowd-surfing devotees. The retailer slapped a lifetime ban on the trio, who was actually more upset that some fans couldn't get in. The countdown to detonation is in full swing.
Now, Feeder is set to conquer the colonies. Mark my words, kids: by this time next year, they will have a platinum album; they will be headlining large halls; their poster-boy good looks will have them playing on MTV every five to six minutes, depending on the music channel's current rotation; they may even play to the soccer moms who watch VH-1 intermittently and think the Titanic soundtrack is "just beautiful." Judging from the Huntridge buzz, Feeder is about to roll roughshod over America, and America will be only too happy to be leveled.
The best part is that even if it doesn't happen quite like that - if the album bombs, MTV spits them out and Mom never gets past "Cement" - two things will remain unchanged. Nicholas, Hirose and Lee will continue enjoying their jobs; that's just how they are. The band members are charming, charismatic, and gracious to a fault. Interviewing Feeder is embarrassingly easy, and not a little disconcerting: most English bands I've spoken to have come off as self-satisfied bastards, and Lee's sunny, selfless disposition throws me.
"We're grateful and pleased to be [in America]," Lee insists in his thick Welsh brogue. "This is something we've been looking forward to for a long time, as long as I can remember, anyway. We're grateful you're even speaking to us, man."
The other constant? Feeder will continue to be good. Stellar, actually. Their pop smarts recall Bowie and T. Rex directly, not the version of those sounds done by Radiohead or Blur. Their mastery of the honest-sounding hard/soft rock idiom evokes Pearl Jam back in the days when the Seattle giants could do no wrong. Their live performance is a marvel of harmony, energy and bombast-captured on their debut album, "Polythene," with scarcely an ounce of gunpowder lost in the transplant.
"We were brought up on Zeppelin, the Beatles, Sabbath, Cheap Trick, the Sex Pistols, Zappa, U2, God knows what else," says Lee. "Feeder's really an amalgamation of everything we like, and it comes naturally. People have compared us to various people, and thankfully, they've compared us to bands that we've either grown up with or really like.
"And Grant is Mr. Melodies, as well," he smiles. "He's written some cracking good melodies."
And which of these cracking good melodies are Lee's favorites? "Hmm ... as recorded songs, I think 'Forgive', 'High', 'Crash', 'My Perfect Day'; as live songs, 'Cement', 'Descend'..."
He trails off, chuckles. "I just reeled off the entire album, didn't I?
No big deal. Millions of others will be doing the exact same thing before too long. HMV will come crawling. America will plug in. If you've ever wondered how the hell we started out with Thin Lizzy and ended up with Bush, you may be well served to strap yourself to "Polythene," and detonate the bomb.
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