Madmen in the Basement

I didn't know what to make of Seth when I first met him. Was he a hippie? Was he a freak? Was he stoned off his ass off some sort of barbiturates? Was he homeless? Or was he just plain crazy? I guess in the 'regular' world he would be considered all of the above. In the 'regular' world guys like Seth Faergolzia are misunderstood and outcast, almost invisible, blending with the streetside chaos and monotony that we've all grown so used to·put aside by the so-called "normal" people as a street urchin or panhandler and cautiously stepped around, like mounds of dogshit in the middle of the street.

But, after listening to his CD and hearing his poetic and metaphoric words over clever funk/folk melodies, I knew that Seth was a bit more than just plain crazy: he was just plain brilliant, and as a music journalist, I knew I had to meet him.

I did meet with him at the Mercury Lounge in Manhattan's Lower East Side. One of his band mates, Lucas ("The Scientist"), led me down the dark staircase into the bowels of the club. This was where they kept the empty beer bottles and other disposable items. I was brought into an old empty storage room where I would meet Seth and the rest of his nine-piece band, called "Dufus." All of the band mates had the same appearance: dreadlocks, thrift store clothes, furry side burns, reggae-styled pull over hats, and grimy un-showered, unshaven grimaces.

The room reeked of weed and body odor, and though the boys welcomed me, the vibe was still a bit·cold. Some looked at me with concerned eyes; others quickly sized me up and seemed disappointed. My typical jeans and tee-shirt may have been a little too "normal" for their liking, and I think I had been stereotyped as one who would not understand the band's artistic and experimental ways, one who would judge them as all the others in the "regular" world would. But Seth greeted me with open arms, and we sat there in the small, dingy storage room and spoke about his band.

Seth sat next to me, close enough where I could tell that it had been a few weeks, maybe even months, since he bathed last. His hair was unkempt and wild; I think he was trying to grow dreads himself, as it appeared bunched up and unwashed. His outfit was worn, torn, and faded, and I wouldn't be surprised if he had lived in it for days. We sat there, and I began asking questions.

I spoke directly to Seth for he was the one I had specifically come to see. He was rather quiet, a bit hesitant, and even shy; which after listening to his emotional and often energized jazzy funk/folk music surprised me a bit. There were times when he spoke so low and so soft that I could barely hear him. The rest of the band sat around smoking dope and hanging on every word of our conversation, and at times it became so quiet that an uncomfortable aura would fill the room.

I tried to get the conversation flowing; I tried to find the one question that would spark his interest and bring him more to life, something that would raise his voice an octave or two.

"Tell me about the band," I asked

"Umm.. You know·we do our thing," he replied.

Trying desperately to get him to talk I followed up with, "Well. What inspires your incredible music?"

"...Life, I guess," he answered.

I asked about the band mates, about his music, and he would answer in the same soft monotone. Then finally: "You said that you want to bring 'death to monotony;' what kind of monotony are you talking about?" I asked.

As if a light flipped on inside his brain he quipped, "Well, it just seems that everything is getting really plain and this pop monster is getting really large. It seems like everything is turning into one line and not really causing any up and down emotions. It's like everything is trying to level out with all of these other pharmaceutical controlled things. A lot of these bands make up one solid sound and quite often it was all one person's idea, and they're all just following that same exact sound. See, I have an idea and I'm trying to make it so that each person is able to be as expressive as they want to while in the restraints of the music I write."

"So, how is that different from the pop monster?" I ask.

"New ideas. New ideas, I guess." Seth answers after thinking for a second or two, "Sharing new ideas, not as if they're owned. My dream is to have the people on stage and the audience perform together; that would be great. I would like for each member of the band to leave the stage one by one until there is nobody left on stage and it would be like one giant audience performing with themselves."

"Just like one big party." I said.

Then as if the light was shut off, "Yeah. Something like that·."

After the interview was over I went back up stairs and waited to see Seth and Dufus take the Mercury Lounge stage and perform live. Soon all nine of them would be up there, looking ever so motley, and after everyone took their places they all began to scream at the top of there lungs as if they were letting out all their angst and frustration towards the world, towards society.

This certainly grabbed the attention of the chattering audience, who had seemed lost in their own private conversations and two-dollar Buds. Startled people quickly turned towards the stage to see what the hell was going on. The screaming continued until the house became silent and they had everyone's complete and total attention. They then broke into the groove for "Having a Party," which is a Zappaesque celebration with plenty of funky jazz riffs and sing-along chorus lines. The audience began bobbing their heads, and some danced. There were some who seemed confused--and I think that was the overall intention. The rest of the show was an upbeat jamboree that was as unpredictable and lopsided as it was rehearsed and centered. It was controlled confusion orchestrated by the genius mind of a madman.

Seth broke out from his timid persona and took control of his band, the stage, and the audience with a commanding presence. He is a true and talented musician whose approach is abstract and unconventional, kind of like a modern day Frank Zappa with a fresh and free outlook and an artistic style delivered without boundaries.

Dufus is certainly a band that is not afraid to color outside the lines and not afraid to experiment, take chances, and give it to you the way they feel it inside. They improvise a lot on stage and get wrapped up in the moment. They'll scream and yell, harmonize, talk, and make strange noises, and it all comes together and makes sense in a twisted irregular way. It's music without a label; sounds without rules; poetry without borders. It is the farthest thing from pop music, the farthest thing from "regular" music, the farthest thing from the feces that radio and MTV and mass media have been spoon-feeding us forever. It's grimy, it's odd, it's strange, it's different, it's real, and that is what makes it so damn special.

By the time I left I still didn't know what to make of Seth. He could be a hippie. He could be a freak. He could have been stoned off his ass. He might be homeless. And he may just be crazy. But one thing I knew for sure, Seth isn't "regular." Thank God for that.

Download sample tracks at CD Baby.

Don Sill