Andrew W.K
Puke First, Ask Questions Later
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If you've watched commercial television, listened to radio, or drawn a healthy breath in the last year or so, chances are you've heard a song constructed by the mainstream mullet maverick Andrew W.K. Masquerading on a tidal wave of "Jack Ass: The Movie" hype and Coors Light advertisements, the veritable Moby of metal is truly living up to the large claims made on his debut album, I Get Wet, especially the passage that asserts "we are a corporation, we are a company."
Has this Jack Ass of all trades lost his grip on relevance? The answer to this question is not as simple as it might seem at first.
Immediately, W.K. comes across in a manner befitting a gruff, bile/growl-spewing shock n' roll frontman. His voice -- a trifle hoarse and deep as an abandoned well -- sounds ill-prepared to keep up with his racing brain. W.K.'s music reflects this impatient, giddy style; basic at the core, his songs contain layer after layer of digitized noise. He justifies the busy nature of his compositions by detailing a never-ending search for the perfect tune.
"You know when you hear a song for the first time and in your head you want it to do a certain thing and it lets you down? I want to make songs that do exactly what you want them to do," W.K. rattles ambitiously.
The uniform structure of his work is no accident, either. "A lot of bands go for variety, which is cool, but I've always admired the gutsy people who are consistent, who stick to what they're good at," he explains, noting that if you like one of his songs, you will probably enjoy them all.
The front cover (a photo of W.K. with blood gushing from his nose) for the aforementioned I Get Wet exemplifies the puke-first, ask-questions-later motif of his work to date. Determined to find the best cover art possible, W.K. did what any self-respecting mock-rock god would do: he hit himself in the face with a cinder block. When the bludgeoning didn't produce the kind of trickle-down effect he had hoped for, W.K. considered bashing his mug again, then settled for a less painful solution. "We used animal blood," he reveals without a hint of reproach.
The 12 tracks on I Get Wet, while considered by many to be an adept illustration of why modern music blows, provide energetic bursts of ADD-friendly thrash for the masses. Surprisingly, the taut arrangements employ synthesizer lines that bring to mind "Jump"-era Van Halen. "I have no qualms about technology; I would just as soon use a keyboard to make a horn sound because I appreciate the precision they [keyboards] allow," he says. Though live trombone and saxophone were used in the studio, they were overlapped with effects for a thicker sound.
His somewhat controversial music notwithstanding, many find Andrew W.K.'s full-boar approach to marketing disgusting. To his credit, W.K. seems to ponder the opinions of even his most adamant critics.
"People say stuff like 'that's just MTV bullshit,' 'you're a sell-out' and 'your lyrics are meaningless,' but I consider those who aren't into my music as part of the overall equation, too," he exerts. "I'm not just gonna blow them off. To them I say give me time, and hopefully I can win you over and change that hate into something better."
On the subject of his blatant involvement in overtly commercial endeavors, W.K. holds strong in his belief that exposure is key. "I'm not going to turn down any method available to me when it comes to letting people hear my music," he insists. "I respect anyone's decision to be on a small or big label. I respect anyone. I lose respect when people start judging my decisions." Pointing to his underground past, WK is unapologetic about his ascension to fame. "I came from a group that was happy if 50 people would come to a show, but I wanted to do more," he states.
And "do more" he has; this cannot be disputed. In becoming a bona fide barf-rock personality, W.K. has made a major transition. "I went from being a shy guy and never talking to anyone to approaching life so much differently and feeling so much better about things," he laments.
Attempting to retain that feeling, Andrew W.K. looks forward to recording a new album sometime before spring (which he describes as even more "stacked" than the first one) and touring with Aerosmith (where he will attempt to not be swallowed whole by Steven Tyler's gaping jaws of life).
If you enjoy lean, mean, gristle-free metal or are sick of having your nullet (new wave mullet) smothered by toilet-bowl swirlies, listen to W.K.'s hesher/waster anthems and rock out with your mop out, care of the frighteningly contagious W.K., and remember what the metallic maestro says about taste in music: "There's nothing wrong with liking what you like."
GRANT PURDUM | Among the newest wave of NATN contributors, Grant Purdum bides his time at Washington State University.