Flash Forward

Bucks band Illinois unleashes a digital divide-and-conquer strategy (and flirts with Catastrophe).

by John Vettese

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Published: Jan 14, 2009

John Vettese What The HELL: Each chapter of Illinois' film/music project The Adventures of Kid Catastrophe gets its own release show.

Chris Archibald tosses a tiny plastic rectangle across the room at me.

Emblazoned on one side is a school of goldfish, swimming underneath the shrink-wrap. On the other, "Illinois."

It's his band's new release. A flash drive.

Archibald chuckles. "These things are cool, but they're kind of a pain in the ass."

The handy part is obvious: Flash drives are feather-light and compact. A box that might have fit only 25 CDs can hold 300 of these — much easier on touring musicians.

The pain-in-the-ass part: Well, the Bucks County folky fuzz rockers are putting out their current release, The Adventures of Kid Catastrophe, in stages. Fans buy the flash drive at one show, remember to bring it back a month later, and fill it up with more music from either the merch stand or the band. Commence difficulty.

"Yeah, when we heard [our label] Plus One's full plan, we were a bit unsure," Archibald says, shutting down the gear in his band's Richboro attic practice space. "But it just seemed like such an interesting idea, we didn't want to second guess."

The plan is nothing if not interesting.

Six EP "chapters," one released each month.

Six release shows in four cities.

Six short films for each chapter.

The whole flash drive thing.

It takes this whole "new marketing" thing to levels of lunacy that either handily out-Radiohead Radiohead, or cause a giant clusterfuck of media ephemera.

Archibald is a busy songwriter. He claims there are 570 tunes in his group's catalog. There were plenty to choose from when New York boutique label Plus One signed the band on the strength of the much-buzzed "Brick," that lusty banjo catcall from their 2007 debut What the Hell Do I Know?, released on the Ace Fu label.

This led to a discussion of what, exactly, to do.

"We gave them 114 songs collectively, and they were just like, 'What the fuck are we going to do with these?'" Archibald says. Eventually the slow-release plan was devised, with monthly shows in Boston, New York, Philly and D.C., building to a full-on spring tour.

"It keeps it in people's faces," Archibald says.

Fans who don't live on the Eastern seaboard, though, have to experience the project vicariously, through the downloadables and short films done by L.A. video team People = Food. Archibald stars in the series as Kid Catastrophe, a character whose life is beset by fuckups and monotony.

Chapter One is a combination music video and absurdist short; it begins with Archibald waking up in a cartoon forest to the Elephant 6-ish groove of "Tree." It ends with a bathrobe-clad man barging in on him, insisting that he is LeVar Burton despite the fact that he very obviously is not.

Chapter Two leans more music video, with Archibald in a boxing ring, being mercilessly pummeled by a punky spiky-haired woman to the synthy bubble of "She's So Funny." The music-free Chapter Three is simply a tedious conversation between Kid Catastrophe and two neighbors.

Archibald says the clips will ultimately form a story tied together by the death of his goldfish in Chapter Two. It's certainly an odd premise, and right now, the series-in-progress seems disconnected and kinda webclip silly. Which speaks to the danger in new marketing. Thus far, it's been used in instances where the novelty of free downloads or alternative releases masks the substandard quality of the music (ahem, The Slip, In Rainbows).

In the case of Illinois, the opposite could occur; that sensory overload, combined with the stigma of other subvert-the-industry releases, could come off like smoke and mirrors overshadowing the music.

And the songs, really, are solid — leaps and bounds ahead of the stuff on What the Hell. Check out "Hang On" or "Irish Whiskey" on Chapter One, where the transition from a funky midtempo dance jam into a grizzled minor key hook rocker is seamless. "Where's My Woman" on Chapter Two is a dreamy slice of Red House Painters melancholia, while the jaunty lo-fi acoustics of "An Open Door" on Chapter Three recall Jeff Tweedy.

Illinois is cautiously optimistic. They plan to follow Kid Catastrophe with a more traditional full-length later this year. Besides, the staggered EP plan is more in line with the way the band operates: one song at a time. "Normally when you do a full record, you take the time off, write the full thing and record it," says bassist Martin Hoeger. "That's not how we work, so this is a little more natural for us."

(j_vettese@citypaper.net)

Illinois plays Fri., Jan. 16, 9 p.m., $8, with Drink Up Buttercup, Toy Soldiers and the Private Sea, The Fire, 412 W. Girard Ave., myspace.com/liveatthefire.

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