Creased lightnin'

Delta Clutch's magical Machine

by Michael Caito

Delta Clutch

When explaining how a band makes you feel becomes easy, you may have hit the wall with that particular group. In the case of Delta Clutch -- Nate Leavitt, Chris Cugini, Paul Everett, Aaron Burr and Paul Myers -- the magic of this Boston/Providence musical alliance hasn't come close to wearing thin. And that's after numerous spins of Rye (Blackberry), their early-'96 seven-song offering. Myers, Cugini and Everett gathered at Babe's, and talk got around to the Beatles' "Norwegian Wood." "Every time you hear that song, you can just feel that exact room they're in," offered Cugini. The table concurred, and we were off to talk about the creation of their newest, Hard Luck Machine.

Local fans may find Paul Everett to be the most recognizable member, the singer having spent time in two important and occasionally brilliant -- if diverse -- Rhode Island bands, Coat of Arms and Plan 9. Put simply, the other four share his ability make it work on every level.

Hooks are great, sure, but for any band to rely on them exclusively is like chewing gum: once the flavor's gone you're looking for a place to throw it out. Delta Clutch'll rock ya' if you want that, but will always surprise. Once at AS220 they played the Replacements' Tim in its entirety, and word from this year's Rumble (eventually won by the Royal Crowns) was that they outclassed their night's field tons. But that's hearsay.

Spinning bittersweet, world-weary yarns won't separate them from any pack at all; they may well represent the past, present and future of gin-u-wine American rock. Picture the blushing, jittery teenager trying not to let his girlfriend's father notice frayed trouser cuffs and oddly-reddened eyes. Feel a lonely soul's swollen heart in perma-disrepair. Singing away past hurt, strumming as if to put bandges over bloodied knees before they've been skinned. Busted for speeding while coasting down a hill, gas gauge on E, trying to make the next station before the radiator explodes. Wondering what the hell you did right on an arm-in-arm night, when you could quite easily hurdle the moon with a sweetheart by your side. Aww, sheee-it. From Van Morrison through Cash through Petty, Earle, Johnston and Droge, there's a trad bleary, three-dimensional feel -- a panicky sweat, a creased and worn believability -- which only great bands can get across. A perspective. That's Delta Clutch's lifeblood.

Q: Are you sick of each other after a long studio session?

Chris Cugini: All summer it's been Nate and I, then Andy and I in the studio. Once in a while Paul'd show up. Now we're getting back in the swing. It's so isolated behind those speakers, moving faders for hours and hours. We hadn't gotten together for about six weeks, so no, we're glad to be playing together again.

Paul Everett: The recording was weird. We started November last year, so it was very laborious, getting the basics down.

Paul Myers: We had a group of songs without vocals that we thought were good as a group. Then [Paul] would come up and sing, and we'd never know what he was gonna do. Several songs came through composing that way, and it's so different than locking yourself away for a month to do the whole thing.

Cugini: We had three songs that Chris Cook from Hydrogen Terrors played pedal steel on . . . if we were forced into a regular studio session we never would've been able to do that. As far as focus being different from Rye, we had in mind leaving room for experimentation.

Myers: It comes to a point where a few things would happen spontaneously and they'd be the coolest things looking back three months later. There are songs on [the master] tape that we literally wrote for months before we got there. It sounds weird but we're to the point now where we know it's going to happen.

Cugini: Like we found out on Rye that we could do three, four harmonies at a time . . .

Everett: . . . so you go to the next recording carrying that confidence.

Myers: There's a certain downside to that, in a way . . . when you get to the end of a project to mix and you have all these dense layers and don't know what to use.

Cugini: Forced limits, time constraints. We were mixing right up until hours before the mastering session.

Q: Paul, is it easier to react or be proactive, given your experience as a frontman?

Everett: I like to react, but I don't know -- there's some of both.

Cugini: I think with Paul it's that he's a singer/singer, opposed to a singer/guitarist. Because he doesn't have to play acoustic guitar we can lay down the foundation. He's the icing on the cake when the layers are down. (To Paul) Is that right? You tell me.

Everett: One of my favorite tunes is "Porcupine" [from Hard Luck Machine]. There's a blues riff. I was there for the basics when it was written, and had word ideas. Then I pretty much went off. I love it when that happens more than anything -- when it works, it's great.

Q: Is there conflict then?

Everett: Compared to what most people go through, I'd be so bold as to say that's completely not the case. There's so little clash, and we come from different musical tastes and backgrounds. In terms of what we like to do, the range we're able to do, it's fulfilling to all of us.

Q: How was the [WBCN Rock and Roll] Rumble experience?

Cugini: We knew what the outcome was gonna be going into it somehow. You read about a band a lot right before the Rumble . . . I don't know how it works, and I'm sure there's nothing sinister about it, but it happens to go that way. The only bad thing was timing-wise -- we would've loved doing shows right after that, with all the radio mentions, but we were in the studio.

Everett: It's a good kick in the ass. I hate competition in music, but it's good to say, "Let's be as good -- or better -- than we thought we could be."

Q: Your music doesn't softpedal hurt, but I wouldn't call it "message music."

Cugini: Our influences come more from storytellers, whether it's Creedence or Van Morrison or the Beatles, Dylan, to newer stuff like Radiohead. It's not message music. That gets boring after a while. I mean, what do we know? You just tell a little of your own life.

Everett: I can't sing about what you should do, unless it's someone I know who did something to me. Because we play music that's all about feel, it's never hitting someone over the head.

Q: Where did you get the title of the album?

Everett: What I read into the record title is that everything is a trial, but it's a cyclical thing. You're on the short end of the stick for most all of it, but you're still moving. To get through to the other side might be hell, but you end up learning. That's the cathartic part.

Cugini: You're not always in control, whether it's the music industry or writing. You're riding a machine, and there's nobody on top of it. It's just the way the gears happen to move at one time. Nobody's in control. And that carries through to life. I mean, I was on the way to [manager Andy Jag]'s wedding and got into an accident with a funeral procession. What's that?

Everett: The worst scenario can always be the best, depending on what you learn from it.

Delta Clutch celebrate the release of Hard Luck Machine at the Met on Saturday with Chick Graning, Mother Jefferson, Medicine Ball, Kevin Mack, Dan Kray and Orbit.

PITCHIN' WU. Wu-Tang Clan at the Strand November 8. Buy quickly -- it's a probable sell-out but worth tha' crush . . . Tanya Donelly (with Dave Narcizo on drums) at the 99.7 X bash at the same place on Columbus Day . . . Separated at birth: Mike Watt (10/28) and Link Wray (10/25 with the Itchies) at the Met . . . Delbert McClinton with Dave Howard & the High Rollers on Friday at Lupo's helps raise dough for Sgt. Shaw's Memorial Fund. Satnite Greg Piccolo & Heavy Juice offer sizzle 'n' swing from their new 11-song disc Red Lights (Fantasy) at the Mist. Props to Elway. Ouch.