Problemo Man, one of 39 bands that existed for just 10 minutes last Saturday in Cleveland. Photo credit: Ken Blaze
In the city of Cleveland there exists an ambitious musical project called Lottery League. The project has happened four times since 2008. It involves hundreds of local musicians; it is both an index of the city’s tight-knit musical scene and a mechanism fostering continuation of the exact same quality. It has become a key part of the fabric of the musical life of the city.
For those who don’t know, here’s how it works. Every couple of years the self-anointed “Council of Chiefs” (originally Jae Kristoff, Mike James, Edward Ángel Sotelo, Nate Scheible, and John Delzoppo) do their damndest to secure commitments from roughly 150 musicians who agree to get their names tossed into a literal hopper—in front of an audience of hundreds on a chilly February evening, the names are drawn in a random order and somewhere around 35 new combos are created from the list of 150 musicians. No band can include members that have been in a band together before (lengthy musical CVs must be submitted beforehand) and every band has to have a drummer. Aside from that, you get what you get. If your band has three bassists, then that’s your Iron Chef menu of ingredients to work with.
All 35 bands are then sent away to convene, rehearse, compose, and so on. All bands must come up with a a concept and a name, compose exactly 10 minutes of original music (no covers allowed), and generate a handbill that serves as a statement of identity. All bands are given roughly 10 weeks to hone their material in preparation for a vast omnibus concert in mid-April, in which every single band struts their stuff, one after the other. The massive event is aptly called The Big Show, because it lasts around 12 hours.
Lottery League 2016 poster. Art by Jake Kelly. Click for a larger view.
The Lottery League has gone down in 2008, 2010, 2013, and—just a couple days ago, on April 16, 2016. The first two iterations of The Big Show took place at the venerable Beachland Ballroom in picturesque Waterloo neighborhood of Cleveland, but in 2013 the Lottery League secured the spacious confines of the Agora Ballroom Theater and Ballroom near Downtown.
An autobiographical word at this juncture. I used to be a resident of New York, and I’m now a resident of Cleveland, and the 2010 version of Lottery League played a key role in my decision to relocate. It should go without saying that I have strong feelings about Lottery League. I love Lottery League.
Queen of Hell or actually, Heavenly Queen
It’s my perception that the people in the rock scene in Cleveland know each other tolerably well—some of them have been slogging it out together in the indie rock underground for some years now. It’s an advantage of a city of Cleveland’s size over, say, New York, which has so many more musicians working in it that, paradoxically, an event like Lottery League either wouldn’t work or would lack the same salience, as there are 30 different “scenes” that aren’t connected to each other in any way. In Cleveland you can conceive of an event that successfully involves a significant cross-section of a specific rock scene, the punk/hardcore scene and the experimental rock scene.
If you’ve done the math, four years of Lottery League have resulted in the creation of roughly 140 short-term, mostly temporary, bands, and something about the allotted time of 10 minutes and the unlikelihood of a repeat performance has resulted in some marvelous conceptual creations that only happened a single time, a bit like a surprise party for a friend. There’s an emphasis on shenanigans, mayhem, and showmanship. The curious nature of the project has led to unusual band names that would never get chosen for a project of longer duration. Examples include: Swayze All Over, Gandhi SS, Hot Dignity, Dehumidifier vs. Humidifier, Mohammed Cartoon, Jean-Claude Goddamn, Snuggle Prophet, Melted Face Constitutional, Fuck Is the New Black, Waaaaay Better Than Ezra, 38% Special, World War V, Sausage Pilot, Robosexual, Hut Hut Hike, and SCMODS.
In Cleveland, among certain circles, if a phrase with a curious ring by happenstance materializes, it’s always a defensible rejoinder to say, “Hey, that’s a Lottery League name.” Someone in the group will get the reference. The idea of a Lottery League-sized name or, more to the point, a Lottery League-sized idea, has entered the city’s particular musical ozone layer.
Good. Photo credit: Jen Hearn
It’s worth noting that although Lottery League is conceived as a one-off, a handful of bands have leaped from that confined space into, erm, “real life,” most notably Hiram-Maxim, who put out an album last year from Aqualamb Records (and were written up in VICE), but also Queen of Hell, How to Stay Alive in the Woods, Dinosaur Coffin, and Isle of Eyelids, among others.
In past years the opinion has been voiced that Lottery League was a touch too insular, a touch too GenX, a touch too focused on rock. In fact, the turnover within LL has been impressive, and I know for a fact that the Chiefs have worked to broaden the profile a little bit, and it was noticeable that the 2016 iteration was a little younger and a little more diverse in musical terms than in previous incarnations. Among the instruments seen onstage were an accordion, two cellos, two trombones, a harp, and a koto (I may have missed some) and even if the majority of the bands hewed to an austere Kraftwerkishness or a funky/jazzy groove, there were instances of the opposite as well, with acts bringing their most jaw-dropping versions of rap (These Swords Are Real), opera (Fugitive Howler), gagaku (Way of the Warrior) and Kurt Weill-esque tomfoolery (High Class Carnival).
This year Lottery League was hosted by California-based brewery Lagunitas; Melt Bar and Grilled, a Cleveland-based purveyor of grilled cheese sandwiches; and ABC Tavern on Cleveland’s West 25th Street. The bands started at 1pm with the sublime Queen of Hell, a playful rip on death metal who had transformed into “Heavenly Queens” for their outdoor performance, wearing white instead of their usual doomy black. Because it was also Record Store Day, the fellows also dropped a 12-inch on consumers. The music ended well after midnight, with the utterly insane dada antics of Vomit Prophet, which featured a cacophony of harp, bass, and a raving mock preacher (reminiscent of Anthony Perkins) in a punk mindfuck that would make David Thomas (of local heroes Pere Ubu) beam with pride.
In between were (among others) the following:
2:30pm: Serlin Spur. Melodic ‘Til Tuesday-style pop with an aquatic theme (the bassist was dressed in a hammerhead shark outfit)
2:45pm: Quiet Bombs. Veteran guitarist Sharon Yoo simply kicked ass, handling the lead vocals as well as a killer solo in the second song of two.
3:15pm: Solid Circle. David Russell is known in town for his work in Murderedman, and his doomy metal frontman thing was very effective. Interesting note: the band’s bassist, Alex MacDonald, is in his sixties.
3:30pm: And Then There Were 3. The band’s name derives from the fact that it lost a member after Draft Day, and they executed some pleasing jazz for the audience.
3:45pm: Good. Funky disco-rock ironists in the Electric 6/Urge Overkill mode, totally kicked ass. Their second song featured (as an intro) the Law & Order disclaimer (“These are their stories”) and did in fact sound like a fucked-up version of the Law & Order theme song.
4:15pm: It Comes in Waves. Touting their own imminent breakup, frontman Joshua Jesty sang to the pleasing strains of Meredith Pangrace’s accordion.
5:00pm: Way of the Warrior. Amazing concept—bassist Ken Blaze (who also took copious photos of the event) read aloud from a supposed Japanese scroll, Kris Morron played the koto and then everyone joined in for STOMP-style drumming as well as two-fisted trombone action. Unforgettable.
5:15pm: Link Haze. Featuring Dangerous Minds’ own Ron Kretsch, this band played the Residents card, generating majestic aggro tunes dressed up as interchangeable Unabombers wearing identical white masks.
6:40pm: Hot Needle of Inquiry. This band had my favorite handbill, resembling redacted notes from the FBI file of Dr. Martin Luther King or the like. They delivered noirish storytelling punk with plenty of echoey drama.
6:55pm: Can’t. Won’t. Mustn’t. John Panza and company delivered polical parody punk with Nick Wolff bellowng into a megaphone. Was the theme anti-colonialism? I think so.
7:10pm: POLIZEIHUND. This might have been my favorite act of the day, answering the question, What if Jello Biafra joined DEVO but it was all happening during the Third Reich? Sean Robinson’s scripted dressing down of his beleaguered bassist three-quarters of the way through was a thing of beauty. They are POLIZEIHUND, you are trash!
7:25pm: Super Nintendo Chalmers. My second-favorite entry, a sublime application of the methods of punk. All four band members “argued” about which Super Nintendo game is the best one, with each band member singing a power-punk song about, respectively, Zelda, Super Mario, Star Fox, and Shadow Run. During each song, the game in question was projected on the screen behind them. Genius.
7:40pm: Problemo Man. A second strong take on the Residents idea, all four band members dressed in identical white, faceless garb. The lead-in was literally about five minutes of the band standing stock still, which led to thoughts of Andy Kaufman audacity until they launched into some killer punk tunes. We are all Problemo Man.
7:55pm: High-Class Carnival. A bearded lady (Dominic Ricciardi) doing a kind of Meat Loaf take on the “Spinning Wheel of Misery” that they brought with them. When the needle landed on “President Trump” (booooo), the bearded lady moved the needle to “Death” (yaaaay).
8:25pm: Lauren Clones Cats. Childlike conceptual pop, à la Kate Bush. Judging from the lyrics I could make out, it did seem to be about cats.
8:55pm. Forager. Twee pop with vocals from Raye Hart, greatly enhanced by about 10 beach balls distributed to the audience.
9:10pm. Beyond Beyond. Entropic music from the mutant society of the Mad Max world. A crowd favorite, from what I can tell.
10:50pm: Future Secrets. When your band dresses up in tin foil, you’re likely to be remembered.
11:20pm: Perpendicular Crosstalk. This band concocted for their backdrop a pretty hilarious supercut of Jeff Spicoli scenes from Fast Times at Ridgmont High, only with Bill Nye and Neil DeGrasse Tyson superimposed over key characters.
And then finally, at 12:20am, a solid half hour from the utterly bonkers Vomit Prophet. My favorite bit was when bassist Justin Husher engaged in a rant about U2 that ended with the words “Negativland deserved what they got.”
Here’s some video from the event, followed by a gallery of pics:
Good:
Way of the Warrior:
Beyond Beyond:
Queen of Hell/Heavenly Queens
Serlin Spur. Photo credit: Jen Hearn
It Comes in Waves. Photo credit: Jen Hearn
Solid Circle. Photo credit: Jen Hearn
Way of the Warrior. Photo credit: Jen Hearn
Can’t. Won’t. Mustn’t. Photo credit: Ken Blaze
Can’t. Won’t. Mustn’t. Photo credit: Ken Blaze
Problemo Man. Photo credit: Ken Blaze
High Class Carnival. Photo credit: Martin Schneider
Vomit Prophet. Photo credit: Josh Klein