TWBA 101 ... a brief history of the cosmos
Let's start with the short version: Boy meets girl. Girl says she can sing. Boy invites girl to mom's basement for quick tryout with newly forming band. Girl opens mouth. Boy falls in love. The Whole Bolivian Army is born! (Cue soundtrack...)
If only it were that simple. Sure, the original boy and girl are still making googly eyes at each other on the stage, but, well...
It began innocently enough. Just north of Seattle, in a pleasant if slightly smug suburb, two boys, plenty old enough to buy a six-pack of animal beer at the local gas and sip but still young enough to entertain adolescent fantasies, were hashing out songs with a Roland drum machine in Mrs. Kite's basement. It was the early 1990s and grunge, though growing tired nationally, was still alive and kicking in the sweaty bowels of Seattle's ever-swank-and-hip club scene. "Is that Pearl Jam?" then drummer Art Chavez would quip months later as the band prepared to take the stage after another flannel-wearing quartet finished its set at the Off Ramp.
The two boys, former schoolmates Matt Kite (guitar) and Steve Miller (bass), had found not only a drummer but a singer, too. Fetching, diminutive, winsome -- Mary Beth Woistman (now Kite) turned heads as soon as she opened her mouth, from which poured forth enough high voltage to power the Emerald City in the dead of winter. Little girl. Big voice. "Hold on to her coattails," Steve's older brother whispered into his ear while recording the band's first demo, "she'll take you far."
Armed with quirky song titles like "Fish Dream" and "Yeast Infection Haiku," the newly formed band, having cut its teeth at the foot of Queen Anne in 1993 with a 5-song set at an open mike at the Romper Room, had already gained a modest amount of momentum when Art left the lineup. His exodus marked the beginning of a perplexing pattern that would soon put the members of Spinal Tap to shame. Good thing all eyes were on the 5'2" singer.
After releasing in 1995 an eclectic, if somewhat spastic EP entitled Hazen (named after the couple that loaned its services to the project: Dan Hazen, drums; Brenda Hazen, backup vocals and vicious cow bell), TWBA went to work solidifying its lineup with Dave Warburton on drums the following year. The result was its first full-length album, 1997's self-titled hodgepodge of artful bubble gum spaz rock (sic). Some of it was good. Some of it was not. Clearly, more than one direction was yearned for, thus with so much internal dissonance weighing heavily on the band's collective psyche, a secret and dastardly coup ensued, with bassist and cofounder Steve Miller the ultimate casualty. His replacement, Michigan transplant Jay Perry, emboldened budding songwriter Matt Kite to fully vent his spleen.
What followed was an orgiastic outpouring of often dark but occasionally cheeky material that made up the next two albums Spinner (1998) and Amnesty (1999). TWBA hit its stride, creatively and professionally, and many mountains were climbed and seas swum. Or is that swam?
With the apocalypse (Y2K) fast approaching, TWBA was running its own label, Gargantuan Records, and was playing an active role in the Seattle music community, spawning the foofy-free, estrogen-fortified Wilmafest and the grassroots co-op Gargantuan Productions. The band also donated performances and/or recordings to Amnesty International, Students Against Violence Everywhere, the Bread Alone Project, Home Alive, Seattle Peace Concerts, and the Washington State Arthritis Foundation, among others. Alas, it even headlined the fabled Crocodile Café on a Saturday night! But dark forces were conspiring to break its newfound rhythm.
Forgive us if our narrative suddenly lacks clarity, for here we come to a cluttered and confusing era, where the music and the muse were undercut by numerous personnel changes (Hello, Roger Johnson on drums! Hello, Chris Gunn on bass! Hello, Tommy Thew on second guitar!), personal decisions (Hello, parenthood! Hello, Port Townsend!), and well-intended but ill-conceived marketing decisions. Like most aspiring artist types, the band should have never been given the keys to the car. TWBA was only good at one thing. And it wasn't promotion (or follow through). Two albums emerged from the chaos: the moody and lovely Be (2001) and the mighty and angry War Stories (2003).
Flash forward to today. The band roster is still evolving, although the voice (MB) and the songwriter (Matt Kite) remain. Tommy Thew, as good behind the engineering console (he recorded and produced Be) as he is with his Les Paul (he played guitar on War Stories), continues to endear himself to longtime fans. And the rhythm section, well, let's not ruin the whole story. We'll see you in 2006!
FAQ ... frequently asked questions
WHAT'S WITH THE NAME? Go rent Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid.
OK, WHO IS THE ARMY? That's a complicated question. Are you talking about the air-speed velocity of an African swallow or the European variety? It's safe to say the army is quite small, with Mary Beth and Matt Kite making up its core and a handful of other talented musicians ably serving when needed and/or available.
WHY DO THE SINGER AND GUITARIST HAVE THE SAME LAST NAME? MB and Matt are married. They have two cats and one true millennium baby, Gibson (now five!).
IS THAT GIBSON ON THE COVER OF BE? No, that's Emmett, son of photographer Patrick Hagerty, whose work has graced the pages of numerous national magazines and newspapers.
WHERE IS TWBA FROM? Originally from Seattle, Wash., MB and Matt now make their home in nearby Port Townsend, a painfully charming Victorian seaport a couple hours northwest by ferry.
Read more...