Sounding a drumbeat for dissent
It takes mere minutes for the Infernal Noise Brigade to enliven a crowd — on the steps of the Federal Building, in the streets of Prague, or surrounding a Starbucks in Pioneer Square.
The brigade has gained a reputation for providing a soundtrack for dissent in Seattle, but many might not realize how far the music spreads.
Unlike your average marching band, the Noise Brigade sets its sights higher than performing at, say, the Seafair Torchlight Parade. This week, the left-leaning group heads to New York to make some noise at the Republican National Convention. It will not be parading as a mainstream marching band, which would be perfectly at home at a political convention, but as a thumping voice of rebellion.
The collective of drummers, performers, singers and blowers of brass was created in Seattle in 1999 after an announcement that the World Trade Organization would be meeting here. The idea, its founders say, was to bring together a variety of people and music, and head to the streets.
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Since then, the 40-member brigade has traveled the globe to provide its political and musical backdrop. It has performed at the World Bank meeting in Prague; for masked Zapatista guerrillas in Mexico's southern state of Chiapas; for revelers in Paris and São Paulo, Brazil; and at last year's WTO meeting in Cancún, Mexico. The INB creates a carnivallike atmosphere at otherwise dull events, and protesters make their appreciation evident, often by begging for more.
"Protests, no matter how well-intentioned, are often boring," longtime fan Jim Evans said. "My favorite part of any INB action is that suddenly people are not just watching, they start to dance, chant and smile."
Decked out for events
The INB has majorettes, medics, a rifle-twirling contingent, a flag corps, a sound cart, vocalists and about a dozen percussionists. They are hard to miss, marching in formation in gray sanitation-worker shirts decorated with fluorescent-orange reflective stripes. Standard accessories include gas masks, whistles and Russian-style hats, but outfits change depending on the occasion.
They wore black and white for a Good Versus Evil parade in downtown Seattle; red, white and blue for a protest in San Francisco marking the first anniversary of the Iraq war; haz-mat suits for New Year's Eve at Pike Place Market, and next to nothing for a sex workers art show in Olympia.
No matter the outfit, a passion for music holds them together. Darryl Strasser, a drummer, describes their style as "post-folkloric esoterica" with African and Indian influences. Members have traveled to Pakistan, the Balkans and Morocco to study music. The result is percussion-heavy, borrowing from jazz and world-music themes.
None of the lyrics are in English. The INB does a Peruvian song about people struggling against the rule, a French freedom song, a Portuguese song about a guerrilla soldier and his lover having their last breakfast together, and a Czech folk song.
"We come from different backgrounds, and we all borrow melodies," said Alix Chappell, a 26-year-old vocalist.
"It's the kind of stuff you would find in a tape stall in India," Strasser said. "A guy howling in Hindi, with rockabilly guitar and a jazz melody from the 1950s. It's different kinds of music being misused."
The group practices at least twice a week, more if a big show is coming. There is no established leader. Members take on different roles from year to year, but all contribute ideas to the mix. They also contribute their own cash, paying for plane tickets, court fines, outfits and instruments. The group does not get paid for appearances.
Since its inception, the INB has recorded two albums. The second, just rereleased, is called "Live from the Streets of Cancún," and was made in a bar during the WTO summit.
"They create fun zones"
The element of surprise plays into the group's activities. Decisions on where to play are sometimes made only hours before. The group does an average of about 30 shows a year. Sometimes, gigs are announced on its Web site, and it's a sure bet to play on festive holidays like Halloween and New Year's Eve. Other times, it can be totally random.
"They are a step above most artists locally because they just show up and then transform a space," said Kurt Delaney, another fan. "They create fun zones and do it very successfully."
The group started with about 20 people who wanted to make a statement against the WTO. They put together their ideas, music, instruments and outfits and then spent months practicing at secret locations in Seattle. Their first public performance was at 6 a.m. on Nov. 30, 1999. "We wanted to be a massive surprise, and we were," Rosenthal said.
Members come from different countries and professions. Among their day jobs: stripper, engineer, security guard, professor, translator, taxi driver, photographer, carpenter, author, proofreader, barista and nurse. Most live in Seattle.
"Members must have a useful skill — or at least be able to fake it," Strasser said. "If they don't play an instrument, we are willing to take a good motivator or an electronics genius. They just have to have the right attitude and be able to hang with us."
Members do not shy away from politics, but do detest the labels some of their activities generate.
"After WTO, 'anarchist' was on everyone's tongues," Rosenthal said. "We were thrown into a group of undesirables, and we've been called an anarchist band ever since."
A few in the group do consider themselves anarchists but say the mainstream media have made that a bad word. Many others don't, and say the music and what it inspires are what's important.
Members are united by politics that appear strongly anti-corporate, and seem intent on getting Americans to focus on global culture and policies.
"There is a lot of injustice and repression going on, and we would like to see that squashed," Strasser said. "We like to squash with music and elevate people."
Staging its own events
The group likes to perform in abandoned spaces — under bridges and overpasses — as well as organize its own out-of-the-ordinary events.
There was the Casaloraza in April 2002, where the INB had people roaming Seattle's streets chanting and banging on pots and pans in solidarity with the people of Argentina. Members held a faux auction at Westlake Plaza, where they "sold off" the rights to land and resources to local Seattle executives, and they created their own Department of Homeland Security.
"Sometimes we just go marauding into clubs," Chappell said. Reactions are mixed. They are likely to get kicked out of the yuppie Barca, but get a free round of beers at a joint like the Comet Tavern.
At the recent National Governors Association meeting in Seattle, members got a warm reception when they played a song for Police Chief Gil Kerlikowske at Fifth Avenue and Pine Street. The chief, surrounded by officers, clapped along for about 30 seconds.
"Then he thanked us, smiled, waved and left," Rosenthal said. "The Seattle police are actually quite civil — when they're not shooting projectiles or seizing our property."
Members said officers working at protests have purchased brigade CDs, and have been seen singing along or tapping their batons to the beat.
Leslie Fulbright: 206-515-5637 or lfulbright@seattletimes.com
