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 When Red Red Meat's Sub Pop debut Jimmywine Majestic, the band's second album, was released in early 1994 music writers all over the country struggled to fit the band neatly within the then freshly exploded Chicago music scene. As hindsight has provided, it until wasn't until the current
wave success-starved rockers with major label contracts stumbled upon the old idea of pop-rock, that the city's music scene possessed any "sound." The truth is that Red Red Meat have always existed well outside of Chicago's various cliques as much as or more than any other band. If the braying sound
of their cough-syrup-fueled bluesy rock deconstructions past hadn't established their inherent uniqueness, well bucko, dig into this mind-fucking new effort.
"I hate rock," claims Tim Rutili, Red Red Meat's primary songwriter, vocalist, and guitarist. The past argues with him. This slippery personality cut his adult teeth in the thrillingly chaotic Friends of Betty, an unsightly and irksome boil on the ass of Chicago rock that couldn't be lanced no matter how hard anyone tried. Not long after the band's second drummer John Rowan left the combo and legally changed his name in order to be mistakenly called the bastard son of a constipated and idol Greek tycoon, Rutili and founding FOB bassist Glynis Johnson and guitarist Glenn Girard
A couple of hot singles were released and Red Red Meat continued to rise, their name getting dropped in between Styx, Off Broadway, and Cheap Trick. They were welcomed into the Chicago rock hierarchy. Johnson died tragically of AIDS in 1992, but Rutili kept the band going in tribute to her guiding spirit. Using a string of fill-in bassists, the band eventually settled on attorney cum bicycle messenger Tim Hurley. The band's self-released eponymous landmark debut had smart Chicagoans sitting upright with ears poised. The band, despite appearances to the contrary, almost had their shit together, at
least enough to convince Sub Pop to eagerly sign them to the label. Their second album was a masterwork of emotion, soul, and self-destruction. Alert mothers warned their daughters. Endless touring followed during which Red Red Meat perfected a spacious world of sound, combining catatonic bluesiness with
pulsing, raw nerves. |
transmogrified into Red Red
Meat. It was 1990 and the band burped loudly to celebrate the pact. Original FOB drummer Ben Massarella shunted aside lucrative session work to rejoin his old cohorts in search of new kicks. With molasses slowness the group began gigging, wheezing along with dissipated whiffs of the blues while shedding a skin caked with lots of rouge and eye shadow. Sporadic gigs and recording sessions followed, and a small but loyal following began to develop. Eventually Brian Deck came into the fold to play drums. Massarella wanted to try the used car racket.