Scene Creamer Ian Svenonius Says We've Been Had

Ian Svenonius should teach a class on irony. At the podium, he'll explain to his students that when irony itself becomes ironic, irony is officially dead.

Then he'll use his former rock 'n' roll band The Make-up as a prime example. With The Make-up, Svenonius and his bandmates came up with the idea of wearing uniforms that would poke fun at the notion of conformity amongst a supposedly nonconformist underground.

The catch? The uniforms caught on. Other rock bands (you know the ones) conformed to the idea and began to wear uniforms — mind you, not because of the original ironic intentions, but because it had become hip.

How ironic.

So Svenonius ditched the uniform. Hell, he ditched the whole band and started another — the Scene Creamers, who released their '60s and '70s psychedelic-rock-inspired debut album I Suck on That Emotion (Drag City) in January.

"We felt like our presentation had become redundant," Svenonius said, explaining why The Make-up broke up (fun oxymoron!). "There were a lot of counterfeit groups being constructed under a similar presentation.

"All the various principals of the group scattered to try new things," he continued, "and it was timely, because there's been apocalyptic changes in terms of underground rock 'n' roll — the currency is a much different thing and it requires much different presentation."

And he would know. Having also fronted Nation of Ulysses and Weird War, he's participated in the underground for more than a decade. He's watched it rise up with integrity, then burst onto the surface with shame, time and time again.

So what will be the Scene Creamers' presentation? "It's gonna get developed some more," said Svenonius, who sings lead, opting not to elaborate.

My hunch? The Scene Creamers' presentation will be kinda like "Seinfeld" — no presentation. Bandmembers — Svenonius, bassist Michelle Mae (who also played in The Make-up and Weird War), guitarist Alex Minoff (Golden, Six Finger Satellite) and drummer Blake Brunner — don't seem to have a particular agenda — that is, other than exposing hypocrisy when they see it.

"The songs aren't really written — they're imagined," Svenonius said cryptically.

Say what? "Well, they're pre-imagined like a note on a napkin, and then you try to flesh it out," he explained. "If you have an idea, I find it has to be completely open to what you're attempting to create or it'll be shattered."

The band sticks to same sort of approach in the studio. "We always like to invent in the studio so it's like the first time," Svenonius said. "It's the Miles Davis approach — warts and all, which is like a naked exposition as opposed to the tight-band aesthetic.

"There are two different approaches: You can go in trying to capture the joy of creation and spontaneity," he added, "or you can go in like a polished outfit."

Forget The Band, Let's Talk Bigger Picture

Suffice it to say the Scene Creamers went with the former approach to record their debut. But we didn't talk much about that, or about the Scene Creamers' music, which at times slightly recalls the music of Jimi Hendrix. Svenonius had other things on his mind, thoughts and theories he wanted to share.

As he spoke, it became apparent that he should teach also teach politics. Maybe something like, "Underground Rock & Politics: How the Two Go Hand in Hand," with "Please Kill Me," the 1997 book documenting New York City punk in the late '70s, as required reading material.

"'Please Kill Me' was pivotal. A lot of kids read that," Svenonius said. "The thesis of that book is that everything you knew about punk rock is bullshit and that, in fact, it was no different from Aerosmith. The sensibilities were just Todd Rundgren — it was just a little grittier and dirtier and they had ripped shirts. The book is really entertaining and it's a great book.

"That being said, what that book did is undermine this monastic urge that was called punk and replace it with a 'let's rock and roll,'" he continued. "It's been replaced by a total disregard for content."

Meaning the original ideologies of punk got lost in a sea of hip fashion trends and coolness competitions. "Everybody's trying to be on the edge of the curve," he said. "What's gonna be hip? People just want to be current. Really, that's why you have this post-punk explosion, this '80s explosion. People are no longer following their particular wit; they're guessing what the next explosion is going to be, ultimately."

Fascism Breeds Conformity

"Part of it is because the whole country is living under fascism, essentially," Svenonius said. "The punks were prescient. As the artists of the '80s, they guessed that we'd be living under fascism. Now we're living under fascism.

"Now fascism is alit and, under fascism, people feel this incredible urge to conform," he continued. "And that's what you see in rock 'n' roll: this incredible conformity. Everybody looks to formal examples of how to do things. Bands right now, a lot of them are really good, a lot of them are much better than the bands 10 years ago. If you go out, you're more likely to see a very confident group, which is very different from 10 years ago. By and large, the groups were terrible [then], but now the groups are consumed with desire to conform to something that is critically considered good."

And when musicians and artists need to feel external validation for their creations, their sense of what's unique to them as an individual can be lost. "You can study Mojo magazine, you can buy obscure reissues, find the things you want to conform to. You can copy it, and then all the mystery is gone because you know that you're good [as long as what you're doing conforms to what you're copying]," Svenonius said.

"So, that's what I think of rock 'n' roll right now, but not altogether, because there's really good bands too," he added.

How The Underground Was Bought

With such unconscious desire to conform ablaze both above and below ground today, Svenonius might choose to conclude his course with underground music's ultimate irony: punk is mainstream. "Punk and mainstream are obviously the same thing right now," he said. "Punk underground music is incredibly self-aware about conforming. People want to conform, and a big part of this is manifesting itself in a desire to live the rock 'n' roll lifestyle, a content-less existence."

And as much as today's punk bands may want to reenact the punk explosion of the '70s and '80s, they will find it impossible, Svenonius said — today's climate is much different from the times that birthed punk. "[Punk today is] just junior league rock 'n' roll," said Svenonius. "There's no ethos that everyone's striving for. Before, with punk, there was a pantheon of rock 'n' roll deities — Madonna, Bruce Springsteen and John Cougar. And then there was punk. [Punk] had no hope of ever gaining mainstream acceptance. It was utopian in a sense, 'cause there wasn't any money or any future. All there was, was a real sense of creative mission. There was no possibility of making it; anything was permitted.

"Then [with] indie rock, a lot of the political pretension was lost, but there was definitely still a sensibility that drove the whole thing of independent ethos: DIY, da, da, da," he continued. "And that's all disappeared, and it's been replaced by a sensibility that's just a junior league of rock 'n' roll in waiting."

In an age where the Internet has replaced the local music scene with an international one, the connections to the bands fans support are weakened by the sense of detachment that distance and electronics create. "The nature of information now, because of the Internet, there's no more local scene," Svenonius said. "It's like a giant international scene. In one part of rock 'n' roll, there's like a million tiny sectarian scenes with a real ultra-nationalist sensibility. And the Internet can promote all groups equally, so it's this incredible democratization in a way — but it's a real overload of information.

"Everybody's scope is national too," he continued. "You might have local bands, but their perspective is totally national and people don't feel like 'We created this, we supported these groups and then they became millionaires.' There's detachment in terms of 'What are you supporting?'

"It's an unconscious feeling of betrayal when something you feel you were integral in creating suddenly becomes careerist," he said. "It's irrational, but it feels like this unconscious hangover every time there's a phenomenon — it's part of what destroyed indie sensibility."

The Scene Creamers are currently touring the U.S. Please check their section of Drag City's site for details. — Jenny Tatone [Friday, March 14, 2003]