From Punk To Funk -- Murder City Devils

Grunge may be dead and gone, but Seattle's diverse and exciting new bands are proving that there is life after Nirvana. We chose five bands who are making the scene, sharing little in common but a talent for destroying musical boundaries.

With the last of the pale Nirvana and Soundgarden imitators packing up their axes and heading out of town, Seattle's formerly grunge-smothered music scene is reinventing itself. New bands emerge weekly and with their increasingly eclectic tastes, the city is no longer defined by a single sound.

On any given night, everything from alternative country, indie rock and punk to electronica, swing and rockabilly can be heard pouring out of such clubs and venues as the Breakroom, Velvet Elvis, Tractor Tavern, Crocodile Cafe, RKCNDY, Rebar and Sit 'N' Spin. Grunge may be dead and gone, but Seattle's diverse and exciting new bands are still proving that they matter. With that in mind, here are five local bands or musicians who have been attracting quite a bit of attention lately:

Murder City Devils

Remember when rock 'n' roll was dangerous? When snarling punks would just as soon spit at you as sing to you? When you were never sure whether the band would rather put on a great show or start a brawl?

The Murder City Devils remember.

The Seattle band's five members, all in their early 20s, like to think of themselves as a gang, and the stage as their turf. Dressed in black, covered in tattoos - more than 100 among the five - the band struts and sneers in the best tradition of punk groups like the New York Dolls and Iggy Pop's Stooges.

The Devils' live shows are both performance and ambush. At a recent show at the Crocodile Cafe, a hellish frenzy erupts on stage as the band slams through vamped-up stomps like "Boom Swagger Boom," and "Dance Hall Music." Bespectacled, slightly nerdy lead singer Spencer Moody looks a bit out of place until he starts howling into the microphone. Derek Fudesco pumps out horror-movie organ riffs while guitarists Dann Gallucci and Nate Manny trade leads and tongue-in-cheek rock poses. Almost as soon as each song ends, drummer Coady Willis snaps out "1-2-3-4's" to launch the next tune.

And all of it's meant as a kick in the teeth to indie rock quietude.

"I don't ever want to see another band that just stands there and looks bored," says Moody in a Capitol Hill tattoo parlor, where he's getting yet another design etched into his skin. "And I feel the same way about the crowd. Why go to a show if you're just going there to be seen? There's nothing worse than playing to a crowd that's not dancing."

As Spencer snarls on one song, "if you're not gonna dance get . . . off the floor, people like you are what the balcony's made for."

Manny admits there's an element of camp in the band's antics.

"We understand the humor of it, but we do mean it," he says. "We're not trying to be funny, even though in a lot of ways we're just caricatures of our influences."

The band's self-titled first CD was released last August on the Die Young Stay Pretty label. Now the Devils have been signed by Sub Pop and will release a new CD later this year.

"We're really going to give people something to talk about," promises Moody. (The Murder City Devils play May 15 at the Crocodile Cafe.) - J.H.

Harvey Danger

Evan Sult said it felt funny to be on the other end of the interview experience.

"I'm wondering where my list of questions is and if my tape recorder is running," the drummer for Harvey Danger said over the phone from Los Angeles, where the Seattle band - made up of four former rock critics - was getting ready to play the legendary Troubadour.

"This has all put me in some places I've never been, that's for sure," he continued, with awe in his voice.

Harvey Danger started in 1992, when all its members wrote for The Glass Onion, the entertainment section of The University of Washington Daily. "Flagpole Sitta," a cut from its debut album, "Where Have All the Merrymakers Gone?" (first issued by New York indie label Arena and now on major label Slash), is racing up the charts.

Already a big hit on modern rock radio, the song's catchy hook of "I'm not sick but I'm not well" is almost sure to be be streaming from Top 40 rock radio stations through the summer.

And the members of Harvey Danger are trying to remain steady through the bumpy liftoff of their band's rocketing career. They're adding dates to their tour schedule daily, planning a trip to Europe and considering offers for opening slots on big national summer tours.

Harvey Danger has already had a major run-in with Slash about the video for "Flagpole Sitta." With MTV and other video channels clamoring for it, lead singer-songwriter Sean Nelson, the inspirational center of the band, refused to continue working on it in a Minneapolis film studio because he did not like the script. He is rewriting it and the video will be made according to the band's treatment, Sult said.

Nelson was, until recently, an editor at The Stranger, where bassist Aaron Huffman worked in production; Sult was assistant art director of The Rocket; and guitarist Jeff J. Lin was editor of The International Examiner. With that on top of their time at The Daily, the bandmembers have some experience with the business of rock 'n' roll, and are determined to avoid its pitfalls.

The band took time and care in selecting a manager, lawyer, song publisher and producer, and feel that maintaining control will assure that Harvey Danger won't be a one-hit wonder.

One problem, Sult said, was that the songs on "Where Have All the Merrymakers Gone?" were recorded in early 1997, and Nelson and the band have written many new songs since then.

"His characters and stories have definitely evolved, and we're writing different kinds of music," he explained, "but we've had to go back to doing songs from the album, and some of them had been out of our set for a year or more."

He hastened to add that he was not complaining. He and his bandmates, he said, are having the times of their lives. - P.M.

Maktub

Even the members of Maktub didn't know what the word meant at first when they chose it as a name for their band. Pronounced maktoob, the Arabic term can be defined loosely as "it is written" or "destiny." It is an affirmation well suited to the positive vibrations given off by this psychedelic soul band. Playing regular shows at the OK Hotel and Sit 'N' Spin, the group has created a buzz in Seattle with its smoldering blend of '90s electronica and early '70s funk.

Colorful batiks hang on the walls of vocalist Reggie Watts' Queen Anne apartment, and the sweet smell of incense floats through the air. But as Watts and drummer David Martin listen to songs they have just finished recording for an upcoming demo tape, it is clear Maktub is not suffering from any '60s hangover. The two members - the band also includes Kevin Goldman on bass and Alex Veley on keyboards - keenly point out elements of electronica and jungle music they've infused into their songs.

Underneath a wah-wah-ing organ that sounds like it was lifted directly from the movie "Shaft," snippets of digital music and trip-hop wend their way into the mix. The layering of old and new is part of what makes the band's sound so distinct.

"Electronica pushed a new idea into the musical consciousness and musicians are now drawing from that and re-creating the sound with live instruments," says Watts. But, Martin adds quickly, the band isn't caught up in the gadgetry. "We're trying to go for emotion rather than trickery or cleverness."

The band is also shaped by Watts' remarkably dexterous voice. Rolling over the listener in alternating waves, Watts' singing can lap up softly one moment, then crash full-force the next. And though he acknowledges comparisons to Soundgarden's Chris Cornell and Simply Red's Mick Hucknall, he's less certain when he hears names like Al Green and Teddy Pendergrass.

"Everybody thought that because I was black I knew a lot about funk, but I just sort of faked it," says Watts, who sports what may be the biggest Afro seen since 1974. "I like all kinds of music. I just like music that makes me feel good." With a sheepish smile he adds, "I even like some country."

But asked to define Maktub's music, Watts doesn't hesitate. "It's soul music," he says. "And soul music is any music that reaches you on a spiritual level."

Having played together for two years, the band is taking a couple of months off from performing and is now finishing work on a demo that its members hope will soon lead to a record deal. In February, the group flew to Los Angeles to perform in a label showcase, where several major label scouts expressed interest in signing them. - J.H.

Damien Jurado

Damien Jurado isn't what you might expect from an artist on the usually noisy Sub Pop label. Though he grew up listening to punk and hard-core bands, the 25-year-old musician is described by the label as a modern-day urban folksinger. It's a title he embraces.

"That's basically what I consider myself," said Jurado in a restaurant near his Wallingford home. "I like to tell people's stories in my songs. It's just better than `Baby, I love you,' over and over again."

Last year Sub Pop released Jurado's first album, "Waters Ave. S." A moody record, it is suffused with melancholy, occasionally cryptic tales such as "Wedding Cake" and "Yuma Arizona." The album's haunting lullabies, chronicling broken marriages, despair and lost innocence, are complemented by Jurado's occasionally off-key voice, a forgiving blend of loneliness and regret.

Yeah, it's a sad record, concedes Jurado.

"Sometimes you need to cry," he says softly. "I don't think of it as a negative thing. Maybe it's just being reflective. I'm not really into `good day sunshine.' "

Once a fan of punk bands like Black Flag and GBH, Jurado now listens to old Phil Ochs records, early Glenn Campbell and folk anthologies.

"I don't really know how I got from that to this," he says, smiling.

The way Jurado got his record deal is a bit of local legend. Following a five-song acoustic set at the Rendezvous, Sub Pop co-owner Jonathan Poneman approached him and asked if he'd like to record for the label. At the time, Jurado was spending most of his time painting, and music was a hobby.

"It wasn't like I had been hoping and praying for that day to come," he says. "I never really took music that seriously. But as long as people like it that's cool with me."

While there are some pop-driven songs on his first album, Jurado says his next album, which he begins recording next month, will be a stripped-down acoustic effort.

"It'll probably be even more melancholy," he says. "There's a lot of tragedy in my kind of music. Just like there is in country and blues." - J.H.

The Nightcaps

The 700 Club, a new nightspot at Seventh Avenue and Virginia Street, on the second floor of Jerseys All American Sports Bar, was packed on a recent Friday night, not for a rock band but rather a hip and classy swing combo called the Nightcaps.

As Theresa Hannam, in a slinky black dress, sang clever, well-crafted original tunes with style, sass and not a hint of kitsch, the young crowd sipped martinis, and some even ventured onto the tiny dance floor for some cheek-to-cheek or, during uptempo numbers, a little jitterbugging.

A cross between a rec room and a bordello - with wood paneling, small, low tables and red lighting - the 700 Club, up narrow stairs and past a heavy metal door, has a kind of speakeasy air, making it the perfect spot for retro music.

Formed four years ago by some former punkers - guitarist Garth Brandenburg was in the Crows, drummer Dan Cunneen in Final Warning, the Obituaries and Zipgun - the Nightcaps is riding the wave of the cocktail/swing-music revival. The six-piece has a strong local following, two CDs and a touring roster that's taken them from Vancouver, B.C., to Los Angeles, including gigs at San Francisco's Bottom of the Hill and Hollywood's Viper Room.

What sets the Nightcaps apart is its original music. Only occasionally does the combo do a well-chosen cover, with all the other numbers in a set being originals.

"We knew we could make original music that was influenced by artists like Count Basie, Chris Connor or Sonny Rollins, as well as Elvis, Nancy Sinatra or the Sonics, and still be taken seriously," says Cunneen.

But it's the quality of the writing that's the key. The tunes are bright, engaging, lightly humorous and sometimes a big risque. And that makes the Nightcaps a unique experience, and a refreshing contrast to the musical fare at most nightclubs. - P.M.