Lucero's Forced Blue-Collar Costume

originally published November 29, 2006

There’s a scene in director Dan O’Bannon’s 1985 zombie satire film Return of the Living Dead where a group of hammy teenagers breaks into a derelict graveyard to get a party started. Clothing is removed and property is damaged as the kids dance on graves, naïve to their impending fates at the hands of the living dead. The leader of the pack is a sentimental but hardened punk rocker named Suicide with an exaggerated sense of sincerity and a funny haircut. As the youths party on, the angst-ridden Suicide reins them in by grabbing hold of his punk attire and shouting, “You think this is a fuckin' costume? This is a way of life!" Much to his dismay, his peers just keep partying with youthful abandon.

On many levels, the scene resonates as a metaphor, summing up the career path of the Memphis, TN alt-country good ol' boys in Lucero. Since the late ‘90s, the group has crafted a dirty white twang-and-dang while fostering a reputation as one the harder-working bands in indie rock. The music is a celebration of trailer park honesty; a celebration of having bad credit, bad beer and bad luck. And indeed, bad luck has followed Lucero every step of the way - between 2001 and 2006, the group worked its way into the alt-country pantheon by banging out seven full-length albums and one compilation of rare tracks. A brief run with the currently “on hiatus” indie label Tiger Style forced the group to revert to releasing material on its own Liberty and Lament imprint. But is the music really deserving of its cult popularity?

The Little Band That Could?

The kind of dedication and perseverance the group has shown over the years is most certainly worthy of some sort of “little band the could” award. The problem is that the records the group keeps churning out are so utterly dull and offensive that enduring an entire album becomes an unwitting experiment in trailer park comedy. The group’s latest offering, Rebels, Rogues & Sworn Brothers, is chock-full of so much exaggerated earnestness that each song demands an instant playback to fully grasp the bad lyrics that frontman Ben Nichols coughs out.

“Her daddy lost most everything on horses, whiskey and wedding rings,” from the song “Mountain” is a particularly striking example of this. The musicianship displayed throughout the song is a competent, Memphis-boogie take on country and Southern-rock sensibilities. But when wrapped around such laughable lyrics, one expects a guest appearance from David Cross playing the part of Ronnie Dobbs on vocals.

Nichols’ voice adds yet another level of difficulty to the music. His hoarse groan scrapes like gravel boiling in a pot of grits and chicken fat. Does it hurt your throat to sing like that?

This of course adds another dimension to the inflated sincerity that guides songs like “The Weight of Guilt” and “I Don’t Wanna Be The One.” Nichols’ voice falls somewhere between Bob Seger and Social Distortion frontman Mike Ness taking a stab at emo-style fortitude. To the outsider, it sounds like a mess, but the group is incredibly focused on its direction. Even when belting out such horrible lines as “You were mine, 1979, just skin and bones. Your favorite dress, motorcycle boots, raised on rock and roll,” the group shows no sign of wincing.

For The Fans… of Fashion

In Aaron Goldman’s documentary film about Lucero, Dreaming in America, Nichols speculates on the band’s future, stating, “I don’t know if we’ll ever be as big as someone like Wilco, but I think we could do it.” Whether Lucero will ultimately rise above the indie level is impossible to predict. But the group has harvested a substantial crop of rabid fans.

Much like the zombies in O’Bannon’s Return of the Living Dead, Lucero’s followers reach out with desperate, grabbing hands, making a spectacle of themselves at every performance. But rather than lusting for brains, these folks stumble and clamor for a homogenous community, a clan, and for Budweiser, PBR or “whatever’s the cheapest beer you got,” an actual quote from a bar patron at a recent Lucero show at The Earl in Atlanta.

The diehard Lucero fan is easy to spot. They come to the shows dressed in denim both above and below the waist. They have a trucker cap perched on their heads and colorful arm sleeve tattoos. The band T-shirts are perhaps the most telling piece of attire. These folks have drawn a line in the musical sands, and for them it’s either going to be country or metal; Merle Haggard or Mastodon, which is a truly fascinating palette.

These people are sincere in their wardrobe choices and accessories, which is a true reflection of Lucero’s songwriting. The songs are meant for that oh-so-difficult to grasp 19- to 32-year-old market. These are post-college age types who are transitioning from a lifetime of being obnoxious Southern drunk rockers into adulthood. The trucker hat and tattoos aren’t a kitschy costume anymore; this is a way of life! And they're trying so hard for authenticity! But the costume's as pre-fab and fashion-driven as any of the neo-goth, hippie or punk "movements."

Rebels, Rogues and Sworn Brothers stands as a testament to the lifestyle. The album kicks off with a song titled “What Else Would You Have Me Be?” - it serves as much more than a heartfelt ballad of whiskey-soaked love and woe, but a mantra; a battle cry declaring that the folks in Lucero are keeping it real the only way they know how. What else could Lucero be? Perhaps the group could just be… quiet?

Chad Radford

Lucero is playing with Maritime and Drag The River at the 40 Watt Club on Wednesday, Dec. 6. Tickets cost $10.