Reprinted with permission from the Arts & Entertainment section of Convenience Store Decisions, February '09, Issue 2, Vol. 239.

The Doom of Funk
by Chandra Gupta


Is it the end? Or just the beginning of the end?
No one can deny that tensions have been steadily rising within the ranks of the Twin Cities' favorite (and only) deep-space-doom-funkadours Plastic Chord. Fans and casual bowlers alike were taken aback when tempers flared at a show at Memory Lanes in January when lead guitarist Nicholas Andreoli accused keyboardist and all-around nice guy Sergio Hernandez of 'invading his sonic space' then fired off a string of invectives into his microphone before tackling non-partisan bassist Dave Dorman. Trumpeter Logan Kerkhof took advantage of the chaos to brain saxman Jason Pape with his own woodwind. The remainder of the band continued to play as though nothing were amiss, but the damage had been done. What we have here is truly a band of hard-wired spazzes who have grown to hate each other.

Things were not always this bad. No rank amateurs, Plastic Chord has functioned as a group for nearly a decade, changing styles and line-ups several times. Formed by frontman Orion Treon in 1999 deep in the tail of Texas where one can smell the burning sugar cane of Mexico wafting with the breeze, Plastic Chord (at that point known by the unpronounceable 'Plastic Chord Aurora Borealis') began as a vehicle for Treon to express his Americana roots music, deep-roasted in southern sopapilla blues. In a December 2000 interview Treon stated, "It's all about what's going on right here. Right now. I've always felt a kinship with Texas country, tejano, mariachi, the great local styles. That's where the heart of America really is, you know? I listen to a lot of Darth Brooks, Farmtown, Rodeohead..."

It was there that Treon met Pape and Hernandez. Pape was playing saxophone in a doomed avant-jazz-oompah-fusion band, the house band of the Lotus Pup, one of Treon's regular haunts. Hernandez lived behind the Nueces County Country Music Museum, a synthesizer whiz renowned for his musical virtuosity and perpetual homelessness. "I started on the piano when I was six," Hernandez stated in '97. "I just started playing notes, and before I knew it I had mastered the theme song to The Price Is Right!"

Unable to compete with the country pros of South Texas, the band (now just 'Plastic Chord') decided to take their roots-rich sound north and arrived in the Twin Cities in April of 2002, only to become side-tracked by professional jobs in the accounting department of Bruegger's Bagles. This proved to be a serendipitous tangent, because this brought them into contact with the rest of the band's current thuder-and-lightning rhythm section, who at the time comprised the local branch of Bruegger's Bagles' marketing and advertising department.
It is now 2009, and the band's ten-year anniversary looms overhead like some unattainable fruit hanging out-of-reach from a terminally diseased tree. The band's sound has changed with the time, and so has its mood. The dissatisfaction amongst its members is almost palpable, and you can hear it in the lyrics. In 'I Wear Truck-driver's Shoes', Treon croons, "It took eightteen years to sting the bees/ now you want eat my peas."

It's a widely known fact that most of Plastic Chord have already immersed themselves in side-projects, a well-established music journalism indication of the seeds of discontent. Strong-arm (and frequently shirtless) drummer Nicholas Boetcher has been seen performing his critically lauded ventriloquism act at the Acme Comedy Company, and Andreoli's new band, Football Dreams, has already been performing at local venues (They will be headlining on the evening of the 19th at Paul's House with supporting acts Scummshot and Duh-The Band). But space-rocker Andreoli has other creative outlets in the works, as evidenced by his recent gallery exhibit on display across the street from the Walker Art Center in downtown Minneapolis. The subject matter? The dictatorship of Manuel Noriega. The medium? Pizza. "I wanted to do something that no one has ever done before in the art world," Andreoli stated at the gallery's opening. "That one guy already did the urine-in-a-jar thing. But nobody that I know of has been creating works of beauty and torpor using your garden-variety pizza toppings." When asked about his feelings about Plastic Chord and the rumors of an impending break-up, Andriolli stated, "I don't know the band's future. I mean, a break-up wouldn't, you know, break my heart. It really gets in the way of my job at Kinko's. And if I didn't have to practice all the time, I could probably get back into the bagel industry."

Three-time Elvis impersonation contest winner Kevin O'Leary, famous for his acts of guitar-slinging bravado, could not be reached for comment; however, judging by the resumé he sent in to our human resources department here at Industry-specific News Services Ltd., he may be coasting toward a career as a journalist. We contacted Pape and Kerkhof, widely known as the Plastic Chord Horn Horde, by telephone. While neither would confirm that Plastic Chord may be calling it quits, they have both announced that they are in the process of forming new musical ensembles. Pape explained, "I've been playing sax for what seems like a lifetime, and you should just as well stick to what you're already doing, so, there you have it. When I first heard John Tesh's album Sax on the Beach, it changed my life. I've already put the cogs in motion to start turning the, uh, gears of my new Kenny G cover band Ain't Nothin' But a G Thang or 'G Thang' for short. Kenny and smooth jazz are the future. I just know it." Kerkhof, on the other hand, will be putting his trumpet away and relying on a mike and a groove box for his new, unnamed, one-MAN hip hop ensemble. "I'm training my dog to be part of the act," Kerkhof said. "I'm hoping he can hit simple beat rhythms on my [groove box] or at least bark in time. It hasn't been working so far, but I feel pretty good about it." When questioned about the practicality of such a project, Kerkhof responded, "Hey, dogs are people too."

Hernandez's first solo album has already gone to press, a collection of game show themes, including those of Family Fued, the $25,000 Pyramid, and, as an unlisted bonus track, the theme to Gilligan's Island. But what about Treon and his sonic vision-quests? If Plastic Chord ceases to exist, where will his musical muse direct him? Well, history-lovers can catch his Civil War hymn reenactment set every Tuesday at 3:00pm in front of the Chipotle Mexican Grill at Seven Corners. And within that Mexican Grill one can usually find bassmaster Dave Dorman consuming copious amounts of burritos and guacamole. "He's a growing boy," comments long-term girlfriend Jamie Helding.