At times, it was fucking outstanding.  At other times, it was just a 747-into-a-Himalaya situation. Wholly head-on. Done. Horrible, horrible.

Interview with Boenobo of Gooferman, Circus Metropolus and Bohemian Carnival

by kSea flux

 

kSea:  Tell me about how the hell Gooferman came about. I know you've had a few bands in the past, but where did Gooferman come from? 

Boenobo:  Once upon a time, I was in a band called Chub. We did a bit of the major label song and dance, and ultimately, the whole shebang didn’t materialize. No point to go into it all now, but that turn of events steamed my clams something fierce. Anycase, I booked a headlining gig at the Paradise Lounge in August 2001, in reaction to the circumstances surrounding our potential record deal. Everybody on stage had to be stoned to play; if you're not stoned, you don't play.

The other parameter was making the entire thing up. We're going up a whole set of songs that sound like they were supposed to be songs–so a rock/pop structure, verse/chorus/verse/chorus/bridge/verse/chorus type of deal–and see what happens.  You get the right quality of musician and it's brainless but soulful.

 

Because Chub had played Paradise several times; the clout carried over, like it does with those type of things. Our first show, I wore a Satan mask that hugged the contours of my face, so expressions were conveyed -- super uncomfortable, but it looked great. I told everybody to wear whatever type of costume they wanted, no coordination between them—do whatever they want with it. We had a great fucking time, and, semi-surprisingly, it went over super well. It was an experiment that I more than half expected to fail. Instead, the crowd was totally into it, the band kicked ass, the musicians were great.

 

So that saved the day for sure, because I didn't know what the hell I was doing, by any stretch. We did that for a little bit. Vegas was in early on. At one point, we had a pretty big band like we've had in Gooferman up until recently: 8, 9 people on stage; percussionists, drums, bass guitar, keyboards, singers—a lot going on. We played a show at Voodoo Lounge a bit later that was probably the last time we did that kind of thing: making the set up spontaneously. At that point, we did have one rehearsal before we'd go in to a show, but that was it. We wouldn't rehearse religiously at all. I'd call people up: 'We have a show on this date. We're going to have a rehearsal on the Tuesday or Wednesday preceding it. I'll introduce the songs to you guys, some general structure, and then we'll go in and we'll bust it out.'

 

So Gooferman moved on to a more electronic situation. We had scratch DJs who would sit in with us occasionally. I had brought triggers into the situation at that point. Ableton Live didn't exist at the time, so when you triggered shit, it was a matter of monitoring and precision. You had to have the right monitoring because the loops are time-based—if it's a long loop, if people fall out of time, it just goes to shit. I went through some experimenting with that side of things, pulling certain musicians together and trying to make that work. At times, it was fucking outstanding.  At other times, it was just a 747-into-a-Himalaya situation. Wholly head-on. Done. Horrible, horrible.

 

So that warped then into a strictly electronic situation where it was myself and two other guys, Ben Davis and Dusty diMercurio. We had built out an array of drum machines and some laptops and what not. Ableton Live had come out, and for what we were doing, it was perfect because we could sync up to a common tempo. It was revolutionary for what we were doing, for sure. It made Gooferman able to happen and actually sound like we were intentional about the whole thing. But I got to itching after a bit. That organic element that I was used to with Chub was almost total MIA. Nowhere to be found outside of the organics of triggering stuff in real time, which, again, was killer only when it worked. Our songs would be really long dance tunes, so there was no form to them and I was kind of missing crafting songs. So we did another switcheroo in Gooferman. I had Deebs come in and play drums. We debute the lineup at a Halloween show at the Bliss Bar. The audience reaction completely shifted because, by way of the drums, there was an obvious kinetic expression involved with the music. With the previous trio, it become mighty clear to me that something was lacking. Humans are ultimately in love with performance. Maybe we're trained this way at this point because of how rock and pop music have defined taste and expectation. But I tend to think it’s an innate attraction.

 

kSea:  Yeah.  You could listen to a CD over and over again, and if you go to a show and see them performing the CD, then it doesn't mean shit.

 

Boenobo:  Well, unless it's done well. It could totally mean shit.

 

kSea: There needs to be a performance. There needs to be something to look at.

 

Boenobo:  Yeah. People are either trained to expect that, with the exception of a new generation of kids who are into dance music and who have yet to experience a live concert. But everyone else has that metric of live performance to work off of. So, with Gooferman, we were rocking behind laptops and drum machines but that was it. There were no instruments being played…occasional percussion or a guitar or bass, but generally we were just tweaking things on an improv basis. It was real-time, it was definitely involved, but it's just guys behind laptops and drum machines. Those facts occurred to me as damning, meaning that we didn't have a true live component to it that people could relate to. For us it was very kinetically involved, but for the audience there was little to grab onto.

 

kSea:  Watching people play with computers.

 

Boenobo:  And they're paying cover charges! [laughs] Luckily, there's some good music coming out of that approach. It just became more and more absurd to me. It had to start developing past that. Deebs is a great drummer who could play with the electronics very adeptly, which is a bit of a rare breed.

 

So he and I then went out to Winter Music Conference—THE electronica and DJ festival. It's like South by Southwest but for the electronic and DJ scene…in South Beach Miami. We went to every show or party we could possibly go to to check it out and make connections for Gooferman. We had now stepped into this hybrid world where we're pulling electronic music in with more conventional instrument-based music. Once the Deebs experiment proved successful, I realized that we were stuck because of the lack of a stage show. Because that's missing, we were destined to implode at some point if I didn’t change things up. In keeping with the natural progression of things in pop music, we have this history of almost a hundred years where, as a music fan, you're watching a kinetically involved performance. You're watching people play their instruments and sing. The music is being made in front of you, versus some kind of a shrouding in a computer, or drum machines, where you can't really tell what's going on interactively, if anything. I could be looking at porn. There are practical components to it, obviously. But with a laptop or turntables, you’re largely stuck.  You can't leave the rig, you can't strum it, you can't move with it much. Anybody who might walk around playing a laptop – fucking disaster right there, so that's never going to happen, never should happen. You put it into that context, and it's ridiculous. It's just not going to float.  So, it has to go back to instrumentation and live presentation. 

 

kSea:  There is no soul in technology. The soul is in the voice. The soul is in the chords people play. The soul is in actual motion making things happen with drumming, with guitars, wind instruments. What's with the clown? How did Gooferman become clowns?

 

Boenobo:  When we went out to Miami for Winter Music Conference, it became instantly clear—or maybe just profoundly reiterated—that the whole electronica/DJ world took themselves way to fucking seriously. There'd be a guy in a DJ booth and a crowd around him, like he's going to DO something. He doesn't do anything. All he's doing is bobbing his head. [laughs] It's fucking incredible. We came back from that experience, about 5 days of that. I'd always been fascinated by the circus thing; we’ve got some involvement with it in my family history. My aunt is a clown—kid-friendly variety. She showed up at my uncle's funeral (her brother) in clown, to try to distract the kids from the murk. The parents were freaking out. The other adults were freaking out about it. They were not cool with it whatsoever, which kind of intrigued me about the whole thing.  'Ah, there's trouble associated with this, and I like trouble!' Right? At the same time, they didn't shut her down. It was a very pivotal situation, now that I look back at it. Seeing my aunt doing that at a funeral for her own brother. My mom had just died 2, 3 years before that from the same brand of cancer. Our family was just getting [sound effects] and here comes my aunt dressed up in clown costume. [laughs] It worked! The kids were distracted by her, so the whole depression and overbearing Catholic sadness of the thing was lost on us. It was almost fun. 

 

kSea:  It should be! Celebrate life instead of mourn death.

 

Boenobo: Right, right.  But we're talking about Orthodox Catholics here, so – nothing fun about that. So I got back from WMC and said, 'Here's what we're going to do. We're going to wear clown costumes for our next gig.' At that point, it was still Dusty, Bender and myself, and Deebs. So we dressed up in clown shit, did our next gig.  It further broke down that wall that exists between the audience and the band. Now it's moved into some theatrics thrown on top of a little bit of live instrumentation with the drums, and electronics. 

 

kSea:  What year is this?

 

Boenobo:  2004? Probably.

 

kSea:  So pretty recently.

 

Boenobo: Yeah, 4-5 years ago. Around the time we first threw clowning at it, we did a photo shoot here in San Francisco on top of the apartment building I was living in at the time. We went out to a bar afterwards and that sealed the deal: The reactions to clowns in a bar where it's not expected. Imagine walking in here [the bar where this interview took place] in a clown costume. 'What the fuck is going on here?' All the tools at the bar – and it was thoroughly a tool kind of bar – all the tools wanted nothing to do with us, which was great. They looked at us, mumbled, but no interaction whatsoever past that. The women were absolutely fine with it. The gay guys were fine with it. I thought, 'This is like mosquito repellent.'  And I hate mosquitos. You've experienced that, right?

 

kSea:  Hell yeah.

 

Boenobo: The tools want nothing to do with you. They're freaked out. GREAT! Girls like you. We like girls. Gay guys – we like gay guys. They're great dudes—much better to hang out with, typically, than the tools. They're comfortable with it, so everything's fucking great. That's how the whole clown thing birthed. Gooferman was clown all the time after that.

 

Then I started extrapolating. This should and could be bigger than just a band. We need to start growing this thing out and make a little micro-circus out of it. I've always been into theatrical presentation—Peter Gabriel, Oingo Boingo, The Residents. The theatrical production was always way more interesting to experience in a live context than it was watching guys in jeans and t-shirts, which blows. It's a fucking pathetic effort and it should be outlawed. Jeans and t-shirts and boring music.  Come on, what the fuck is that? In this modern age? Bullshit.

 

 

kSea: With Bohemian Carnival and all the shows you do, people say, ‘Gooferman’s going to be there!,' and I see so many people more and more every time come dressed up just to feel more a part of it, and that is something incredibly special. 'Ok, let's prepare for this!' instead of just go see another fucking show.

 

Boenobo:  That’s the desired effect: pulling everybody into it. For me, it really came together back when Mayor Newsome declared April 1 to be Gooferman Day a few years ago. That, of course, necessitated a party. My concept was an anarchist circus deal: the Goofball. At that point, we'd shared bills with Vau de Vire and with Xeno, both kind of accidentally. Our mutual friend Wing threw a party at Terra, Vau de Vire was involved, Xeno was still intact and they did their thing as well. That's where we all co-mingled for the first time. When the Goofball came around, I asked Austin and Cooper [of Xeno] about doing a party at their place, Xenodrome, for the celebration; they were up for it. Ron English, one of my favorite lo-brow artists, agreed to loan us one of his pieces for the promo artwork. Then I talked to Mike and Shannon [of Vau de Vire] and Sue of Cirque Berzerk, who happened to be in town, and invited them all to stop by.

 

It was fucking cracked! A killer party. I thought it would be just us, pretty much, but somehow the word had gotten out and it was absolutely packed. Roger Daltry was there, and supposedly David Byrne as well (in town recording an album). All I knew was that the place was packed and the energy was immense, so I was one happy clam. And it was like a raw, circus mash-up. When I talked to Mike and Sue,  I’d said, ‘Let's just freestyle it—our people get up and do their thing when they wanna do it.’ That's how I went into Bohemian Carnival, on that trajectory: Anarchist circus scenario where it's freestyle-based and it's immersive.

 

When I happened upon the Red Nose District notion following Burning Man 2005, I initially approached Jesster [Stilt Circus, EnHightened Beings of Leisure, Cirque Berzerk] and introduced the idea of getting these circus troupes together…Cirque Bezerk across the desert from us, and my Gooferville over here, and EnHightened Beings over here, all having conflicting schedules…let's all get together and do our own mondo circus camp.' Jesster was into it, so then we approached Sue (I'd met her and Jesster prior at a Mutaytor event in LA) and Kevin. They joined in. Vau de Vire came onboard as well. Jesster brought in these infrastructure guys who kicked ass: Chuck (from TOTEM) and Dr. Nome. Quirky, refreshing, able dudes.

 

From that whole thing, we got to the Red Nose District benefit, which was the first time Mike and I co-produced an event together. He had an in at DNA Lounge and we needed to do an fundraising event for our new-fangled circus camp. It was going to be an expensive venture: We were trying to raise 18 grand, ultimately.

 

On my end of it, in terms of the stuff I'd been involved with event production-wise, the next natural step following the RND benefit was a Bohemian Carnival-type endeavor…a recurring, refreshed take on the circus experience. Mike and Shannon had been creating theatre back in Denver, and brought their aesthetic along to San Francisco. A very similar mindset out of both of us, coming at it from two different angles, essentially. We put our heads together and decided to throw a formula at it: live music, circus, and cabaret non-stop for a few hours, DJs finishing it off.; guests change every time, Gooferman and Vau de Vire as resident hosts. Vau de Vire and Gooferman had worked together several times at that point, and that's where I see the ultimate marriage of stuff happening with us.

 

As a band, you go into an unchartered territory and you might draw or you might not. We played Santa Monica two months ago, and there were 6 people at the show. Our New Orleans Jazz Fest gig was horribly attended. But then we’ll do a festival show—Bumbershoot, Download, Vegoose—and draw a huge crowd of the unexpecting. That’s not just Gooferman—that’s the magnetism of our circus. 

 

kSea:  Even without Vau de Vire, you have phenomenal performers: aerialists, dancers who come up and just want to be around Gooferman and perform with you.

 

Boenobo:  Yep. It's working out well that way.

 

kSea:  It's all about your eye candy. Not only incredible music, but a shit load of stuff to watch and be a part of and feel immersed in, instead of just watching another show.

 

Boenobo: That's the whole thing. It's an experience. It's not just going to see some kitschy rock band.  I want people to go to a Gooferman show and have an immersive experience that blows their minds…walk out of the place wondering, 'What the hell was that?' But happily asking, 'What the hell was that?' With Mike and Vau de Vire, I think they're the ultimate marriage for Gooferman. They're all super-talented, super-sexy people, they know their shit inside and out. We're all tight on a relationship level at this point. It's ideal. The timing of it all is fucking outstanding. 

 

kSea:  Now there's Big Top too, beyotch!

 

Boenobo:  Hell yeah! This stuff is sprouting. It's the first time in San Francisco's recent history that some movement has come out here that is so freshly defined and original.

 

kSea:  It’s found a life in San Francisco. It’s found people willing to go to it.

 

Boenobo: It's coalesced the most effectively here, that's what I'll say about it. And Bohemian Carnival is probably the best manifestation—of the stuff that I've seen—of indie circus at this point; not to toot our own horn, at all. We’ve put loads of work into it, but despite the planets we’ve pushed into alignment, gravity and humblingly greater forces are at work, just in time. Also everyone in the production's agreeing to do this for pretty much no money. It's a cultural phenomenon that fortunately the cast and crew are buying into. 60 or so performers at a show; it’s a lot.  They're all doing it for next to nothing for the sake of this manifestation of some amazing gumption.

 

kSea: It's creating a new life.  It's creating a new world.  It is something new that's happening, something new and very impactful, like bringing the wonder back into the eyes of people that have been so fucking jaded by all the bullshit in their lives, like going to an arena band and being 300 feet back and seeing these little dots onstage and listening to exactly what they could have listened to on a CD.

 

Boenobo: It's a combination of originality, in terms of programming the show, of having this ‘new’ cabaret, whatever you want to call it, in conjunction with – and the whopper being – immersion. That's what makes it. And that's where Gooferman’s headed: The stage is in the center of the crowd, a rhythm-section island.  The rest of us are floating on mobile pods, moving through the crowd and propelled by the crowd, so everybody at any given point is front-row seat.  They're all involved with moving out of the way, they're involved with collapsing back in.  They're involved with somebody pulling them into the action.

 

kSea: They're involved with all of a sudden looking up and seeing an amazing silks artist.

 

Boenobo: Yeah. They're right underneath it, not counting on a stage. That's powerful shit. Since they were kids, a whole lot of people have been sold on this concept of circus. And they get into it, suddenly thrown into this environment that they've wanted to be in their whole life, where they can be a complete jackass or a kid again. That's the beauty of the whole experience right there.  Beyond any given performer, it's the situation. It's all about what people leave it with. 

 

kSea: What are the future plans for Gooferman?  Are you going to be cutting a CD?

Boenobo: April is our release date.  It's gotta be the 33^rd time it's bumped, somewhere in there.  32.  Then tour, do a lot of stuff with Vau de Vire next year.  Bohemian Carnivals—take that on the road.  The festival circuit. I would be fine with the band hitting cult status, where we sold out good-size venues with enthusiastic crowds, again, creating an immersive environment.  If it hits there, it's great.  If we play a stadium at some point, I'll cream myself. It'll be great. 

 

kSea: Is there anything else you want to talk about?

 

Boenobo: We're shooting for South by Southwest and Winter Music Conference in March.  Possibly touring Bohemian Carnival next year, in 2009.  Doing a big, city-wide indie-circus festival Halloween weekend of 2009 called Circus Metropolus—that's primary. Then, doing stuff with Vau de Vire as often as we can, as well as on our own. Immerse, immerse, immerse.