Apologies for the delay, paid subscribers. Look for another bonus newsletter around the middle of May. I mean, if we’re still here.
In this premiere edition of the Band Name Bonus, I talk to former A.V. Club head honcho Josh Modell, my former boss and once and future pal. Or to put it in terms germane to BNB, Josh and I have been tight bros from way back when Tight Bros from Way Back When were still together. (Wait, they may have broken up by 2005, but whatever.) Josh was behind so many great things that happened at our old stomping grounds—A.V. Undercover was his idea, for instance—and he’s an all-around awesome dude. Long before he was calling the editorial shots at Onion Inc., he booked shows in Milwaukee and worked at the city’s beloved record store, Atomic Records. Josh is an encyclopedia of musical knowledge and a fount of fun stories about bands, so he was a natural person to chat with about band names.
Band Name Bureau: You’re a music guy. Can you recall when you first noticed a band having an especially good or bad name?
Josh Modell: Hmm. One of the first records I ever bought with my own money was Kilroy Was Here by Styx, and I think Styx was a pretty badass band name. I’m pretty sure it’s more badass than their music. I also think I learned what the River Styx was from their name, so that’s cool.
BNB: I had the “Mr. Roboto” 45, which I listened to on repeat, but haven’t been able to finish when I’ve heard it as an adult.
JM: Domo Arigato. They taught us Japanese! I think when I was really young, I probably thought all band names were cool. Like Black Sabbath. Or even Loverboy. I remember thinking there was something dumb about a band called Talk Talk who had a hit single called “Talk Talk” from an album called Talk Talk.
BNB: The trifecta! Thinking about it now, I’d say Styx is a good name. Solid allusion, it sounds cool, and it’s fairly simple.
JM: Yeah, but it’s more metal than they are. Although I guess on that album there was that song about being judged for rock ’n’ roll. Lemme look up the name. “Heavy Metal Poisoning.”
BNB: I’m guessing they spent their early years explaining how to spell it to promoters. “Sticks?”
JM: I’m sure all the conversations went like this: “Styx…No, like the river Styx…S-T-Y-X.”
BNB: I bet they still ended up with a lot of “Stix” in ads.
JM: Totally.
BNB: You’ve been friends with people in bands for a long time. Have you ever advised any of them on their name? Or told them they had a bad one?
JM: Oh man, I have an excellent response to that, one that I hope won’t get me in trouble.
BNB: You don’t have to answer it, of course.
JM: It’s fine. I don’t think they’ll care. The Promise Ring broke up, and Davey [von Bohlen] and Dan [Didier] started playing with new people, a band that eventually became Maritime. But before they became Maritime, they were called In English. They even went so far as to make T-shirts and buttons. I can’t remember if they ever played a show as In English.
I can’t take credit for them changing it, but when I found out, I was kind of horrified. Surely they didn’t intend this, but it just sounds xenophobic and dumb. And don’t start a fucking band name with a preposition. Unless you’re Of Montreal, I guess. But even then. Of Monsters and Men.
BNB: Yeah it’s awkward to start with a preposition. So when you told them about the xenophobic angle, were they like, “Ohhh!”
JM: I wish I could remember the conversations, but I just remember being really adamant, like, “This is a terrible name, you guys.” I still have an In English T-shirt. It’s a fun piece of history. I can’t wear it, because people will think I’m an asshole.
BNB: It’d go well with a MAGA hat.
JM: Exactly. Make Maritime Great Again.
BNB: I know we like to consider ourselves open-minded, but have you ever gotten a press release or seen a band name and just said, “Nope, not bothering”?
JM: I’m sure I do that all the time, though nothing specific springs to mind. I can be turned off by a font in a press release. I can’t think of any specific examples right now, but I feel like there’s been a glut of young bands whose names are plays on famous people’s names, like Com Truise.
BNB: Oh yeah, they were on the list one year. As was Tom Cruise Control, which feels even less creative. Do you think it’s better to have a name that stands out—even if it’s bad—or one that just kind of blends in?
JM: I think it’s impossible to say, because if the band is good enough, the name will cease to blend in. For me, a really bad name is an impediment to me listening with an open mind. And yet, Archers of Loaf is one of my fave bands of all time. We both love Ned’s Atomic Dustbin—though would we like them as grown-ups, hearing them for the first time?
I think about Kitchens of Distinction, who made fairly serious music, clearly took their lyrics seriously, wrote about being openly gay when that was not an easy thing to do. And yet they’re called “Kitchens of Distinction.”
BNB: I remember their talking about it on 120 Minutes. They pulled it from a classified ad, right?
JM: Something like that, yeah.
BNB: I think with bands, if I like the music, I stop noticing the name after a while. So even if it’s bad, I kind of forget about it eventually. But I may not buy a shirt.
JM: Definitely. Archers is a great example of that. And Death Cab for Cutie. It’s just Death Cab; you don’t think about how dumb those words sound together.
BNB: Having “Cutie” in the name is bad from the jump.
JM: And it’s so long.
BNB: I remember the one-man band Cuddle Formation got mad because I included him on the list one year. And I was like, “Dude, you have ‘cuddle’ in your name.”
JM: That’s awful in every way. I’m not surprised that people who picked it would be very sensitive to criticism.
BNB: It sounds like a couple’s inside joke. “Let’s get in bed in cuddle formation!”
JM: Totally. Band names are hard, though.
BNB: They are for sure. I’m working on this month’s newsletter, which features the Tasmanian band A. Swayze & the Ghosts. Are you familiar?
JM: I’m not. Would I love them?
BNB: I think you would, actually. They’re good. Kinda like a harder Strokes. I found this interview with the singer, and he said the first question in every interview is about their name—which, yeah, that’s the price you pay when you have an odd name.
JM: You can’t complain about getting asked about it. You picked it, Swayze.
BNB: But he perfectly summarized the process for so many bands: “There’s not much to it, to be honest, just a stupid fucking stoned joke that turned into a band name.”
JM: I interviewed Alex Ebert recently, who as you may or may not know, is the singer of Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros—a band that does not include anybody named Edward Sharpe.
BNB: Yup. Do you remember when Buddyhead did that “rules of rock” list a million years ago? It talked about that phenomenon. The rule was that you can’t get mad if you name your band after a person, and people ask you which one of you is that person—i.e., “So is the singer Edward Sharpe?”
JM: Oh yeah, that was funny.
BNB: OK, just a little more. You booked bands for a long time in Milwaukee. Do any names stand out from those days?
JM: Oh here’s one. I think they only played like three shows: Sheepometer. Like somehow measuring sheep?
BNB: That actually made me laugh. I wonder if they pronounced it “sheep-o-meter” or “sheep-om-eter,” like “thermometer”?
JM: I think it was the latter. They were from Milwaukee, people we knew.
BNB: From doing the A.V. Club local calendars for so long, I remember a lot of weird names came out of the Twin Cities. Do you think Milwaukee bands were pretty normal in that regard?
JM: I think so! I can’t really remember too many bad ones standing out.
BNB: Yeah, I think Chicago was that way too. The Twin Cities gave us Gay Witch Abortion and so many others.
JM: That’s a good one. I bet the best band names end up only being used for one show, because they’re so bad they have to break up.
BNB: Or they change it to something way less interesting, which happens all the time as I’m composing the list. A band will start with some ridiculous name, then change it by the time I write about them. But there is no escape from your past! Looking at you, Here Comes Old Vodka Tits.
JM: That’s pretty great, actually. Reminds me of Lasers and Fast and Shit. Weren’t they from Chicago?
BNB: Oh yeah, I can’t remember. Fartbarf. The list goes on.
JM: That kind of name is just cowardly. It’s like, “No one will ever actually like our music, so let’s give them a reason not to.”
BNB: Yeah, speaking of having to explain your name in every interview…
JM: Can I just say that my favorite record of 2020 so far is by a band with a terrible name? Porridge Radio.
BNB: Yeah, that is bad. I’ll add them to my list for consideration!
JM: Yup, and listen to the record cuz it’s great!
BNB: And you check out A. Swayze & the Ghosts!
Many thanks to Josh for chatting and continuing to be the best.
POST-SCRIPTS
I’m following the lead of OG podcast Never Not Funny with the numbering of Band Name Bonus editions. The main BNB newsletter will be numbered, and these will have letters. On Never Not Funny Platinum episodes, that turned into a game where people on the show guess what band, singer, actor, etc. host Jimmy Pardo would associate with it, like, “Episode 25S, for Styx.” If someone in the studio matches Jimmy, they win money. No money will exchange hands here, but we’re having a good time, right? Right? Also, if you don’t listen to Never Not Funny, you absolutely should, because it’s great. Related/unrelated: A Winged Victory for the Sullen is a truly terrible name.
The accounts of how Kitchens of Distinction got their name vary, and I couldn’t find anything definitive. Wikipedia, which is always correct, said it came from a company in the band’s hometown. Amoeba Music says it came from a bus advertisement, and I’ve seen versions of that story more.
Turns out the Buddyhead list doesn’t have a rule about using someone’s name for your band name, and I’ve been living a lie for 18 years. It’s still a good rule, though. The a sibling list about the audience rules for rock is also a good read.