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Scotty Karate's on a wild roll New CD features his one-man-band act with honky-tonk flair
Sunday, September 24, 2006
BY WILL STEWART
News Special Writer
For anyone who has seen his absurdly inspired stage act, it should come as no surprise that Scotty Karate comes from the school of rock 'n' roll literalism.
"I always believed that the songs - like the Beatles love songs - were real and that they were telling a true story,'' said Karate (real name is F. Scott Leeman), who has traveled the country for more than a decade performing one-man-band versions of his own twisted honky-tonk tunes.
"I always felt like the characters were superheroes.''
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So when Leeman started making music of his own, it only made sense to create an alter ego that was equal parts G.I Joe, honky-tonk singer and Johnny Appleseed, spreading the gospel of American roots music across the land.
"For me, it's like being an action figure,'' said Karate, who recently released "Get In the Teepee,'' a CD of incredibly well-crafted country songs he recorded live in the studio playing guitar, bass drum and hi-hat cymbal - all by himself, all at once.
On Oct. 1 at 9 p.m., Karate will bring his one-man-band act to Ashley's Bar to celebrate the release of his namesake beer, Scotty Karate's Scotch Ale, part of a series of shows to publicize the beer, which is brewed by the Dark Horse Brewery in Marshall and is receiving wide distribution across the Midwest.
The pairing with Dark Horse came about after Karate performed at the brewery's booths at a handful of beer festivals. Those appearances gained Dark Horse "best-booth'' honors at festivals, bringing about the obvious pairing, according to Dark Horse owner Aaron Morse.
"He was playing and the sign at our booth listed live music by Scotty Karate,'' Morse said. "But people kept coming up asking for a Scotty Karate beer, so we just figured we had to make one in his honor.''
For his part, Karate found other benefits from the festival gigs.
"When I would play, there would be a huge line and people would really get into it,'' he said. "Then go drink beer and come back and play some more.''
The beer's appropriately ridiculous label depicts a cartoon rendering of Karate with a guitar and drums and his ever-present buffalo helmet, complete with horns. It also paints an accurate picture of Karate, who mixes absurdity and sincerity into a performance art that's equal parts rock 'n' roll and experimental theater.
"To me, it's about suiting up and almost like combat in a way,'' he said of his elaborate stage gear, which in addition to the buffalo helmet might also include a teepee. " It's meant to go against everything that's normal.
"I have costumes and I suit up and get excited and try to bring out the energy in the audience.''
.. On stage, that absurdity gives way - at least in part - to Karate's spare, cleverly phrased and deceptively wise songs, which evoke an uneasy mash-up of Johnny Rotten and Johnny Cash.
"I was raised in Oklahoma until we moved to Chelsea when I was 10,'' he explained. So I was exposed to a lot of old honky-tonk music when I was a kid, then we and I came here and was exposed to all the crazy music around Ann Arbor.''
After a couple of years fronting the Plumbobs in the early 1990s, Karate struck out on his own, honing his one-man-band routine and playing hundreds of shows, including a residency a few years ago playing the Friday happy hour at the Elbow Room.
Now, after 10 years of hard touring and two years away working in the film industry in New York (he operated a smoke machine for a Britney Spears MTV video) and bouncing around Texas, Karate - who recently moved back to southeast Michigan - said he feels as if he's finally beginning to break through to a wider audience.
In addition to the beer and the solo album, he's set to release a record with his band, Scotch Bonnet, which has generated some interest among indie labels. Befitting his dadaist approach to publicity, he was recently featured on the reality TV show "Elimidate.''
"It was something I tried to get going for a long time,'' he said of his hard-fought battle for acceptance. "I feel like I'm poking my head through the ceiling of one level and through the bottom of the next level.''
Meanwhile, at 31, he said he's beginning to come to terms with the alter ego he created a decade ago.
"Back in those days, I had a hard time deciphering what was on stage and what wasn't and I kind of got lost in the persona,'' he said. "I used to be totally confused about that and only recently have I been able to separate those two sides of myself.''
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