When it comes to making records, one of the primary obstacles for most local bands is, of course, money. You've got the band, you've written the songs, you've played them to damn near death. Even your mom knows what you sound like. Now you have your eye on a studio. But what about the scratch? Where are you gonna get the money to record your songs? Got a sugar daddy? Access to a trust fund? (Someone else's is OK, too.) Working at Kinko's for $8.25 an hour isn't gonna buy you a studio at $200 or even $50 an hour. The math just doesn't jibe. Oh, that's right. Artists aren't real big on numbers.

But then, Mariner didn't have to run the numbers. Their drummer Mike Viele owns a recording studio in Wakefield called Groundswell. So when Mariner assembled some loose ideas for songs, all they had to do was look on the studio docket and find the holes. No clock ticking, no pressure to lay it all down in a blurry mess. No worries about running out of cash before the last note is played. Think about that for a second. No worries about running out of cash.

"It was the greatest thing," admits Jay Kooger, guitarist, singer, and co-songwriter. "We wanted to get in there and tweak it around a little, see what we wanted to do instead of banging it out and leaving." All told, Kooger figures the band spent about 100 hours in the studio, from December of 2000 to the summer of last year. "That would have been a monstrous amount of money for a bunch of kids that don't have great jobs and who are struggling to keep a roof over our heads."

But because of the studio situation, money didn't end up being an issue. And because of that studio situation, their approach and philosophy to recording was different going in. "We went in with a concept," says Kooger, "an idea and an attitude. We knew a specific feel and a direction and certain sounds we wanted to achieve. We knew a sound, but we wanted to try out different instruments. If it was the studio and the clock was ticking, it never would have happened."

Because Mariner -- which also features singer-guitarist, keyboard-type Dina Carpenito and bassist Lauren Holt -- write 100 percent together, the songs share the strengths each band member brings. Without the luxury of time, that collaboration can never fully happen. "So many times you have to adopt a mentality that you have to live with what you don't like," says Kooger. "If there's one note that didn't ring out the way you wanted to, you have to live with it forever. But if time's not a factor you go in and do it again."

Which is pretty much what Mariner did. Kooger, Viele, Holt, and Carpenito worked on their debut, Hurry Up and Wait, until they got it right. The result is a sharp, promising, and intelligent pop record, full of patience, exuberance, fresh ideas, and delightful surprises. The sound is at times angelic, at others angular and ambient. The colors are muted, the performances understated. But clearly the ensemble, together since September of 2000, benefited from the time spent noshing on ideas in and around Groundswell Studios.

Mariner rose up from the ashes of the short-lived Andrea Gale, a capable, all-instrumental math-rock outfit whose perspective suffered from a schismatic approach. Half its members were content to dwell in the math-rock underground, while Kooger and Holt wanted to expand the band's horizon. Such is the nature of many a band splits. "Sometimes you want to put a song on and just listen to it and enjoy it," says Kooger. "You don't need to break it down into every little polyrhythm and measure. In Mariner we wanted to try and write stuff that you didn't have to analyze."

When Kooger left, he seized an opportunity to fill in a last-minute gig vacancy one night in South County. That's where he met Viele. "The manager asked us to play this warm-up gig 20 minutes before a show! I jumped at it, even though it was ridiculously short notice. I turned to Mike and said, `OK, let's go write a set.' We did renditions of Pixies and Built to Spill tunes and some other improv-ish stuff. It wasn't good or bad, but we had a chemistry and we had a lot of fun."

From there, Kooger and Viele struck up a musical relationship, and it wasn't simply because Viele had a studio. Dina came in from New Jersey and Lauren, who also played in the Andrea Gale, filled out the lineup.

Together, they set out to explore their musical common ground, alighting on preferred bands like Mogwai, Ganger, a little jazz, and Radiohead's sleepy Kid A. "Radiohead showed people that you can turn your sound around and still make it interesting, still keep your audience," Kooger says.

Mariner seems to be maintaining its audience quite nicely as well. Recent local shows with Quasi and Purple Ivy Shadows proved successful, though Kooger and company aren't exactly sure if the healthy turnout had anything at all to do with them. They will most certainly find out this week, when they take the stage at the Met Café in a headlining slot that will provide them ample room to stretch out. "We've been given more time to play," says Kooger, "so we're looking forward to taking advantage. A lot of our songs are longer -- they fall between three and five minutes. When we play a short set, sometimes that means playing just three or four songs. That's not enough."

Then again, Mariner is all-too aware about overstaying its welcome onstage. "I know how it is when you're watching a band and you just wish the song would stop. It's a tragic thing and I really feel for the band, but . . . We like to have the philosophy of a good comic: leave them wanting more. Have the audience wishing a show lasted a little bit longer."

Mariner headlines the Met Café on Tuesday, January 22.

WANDERING EYE. This Saturday (the 19th), the Amazing Mudshark and the Maggie Salzberg Band demand your attention at the Blackstone. Members of TAM are scattered over Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and New Hampshire, but they somehow find enough common ground (and travel time) to put together a great show. They also made their debut disc up in northern Rhode Island at Diamond Hill Studios, which makes them "local" enough for my taste. Maggie Salzberg and her band are also spread across two states, from northern Rhode Island and the south-of-Boston suburbs. Like TAM, Salzberg and company are original, fresh, and enthusiastic, which should make Saturday at the Blackstone one swell night of music.

E-mail me with music news at b_gulla@yahoo.com b_gulla@yahoo.com.

Issue Date: January 18 - 24, 2002