Rubble and rock
The bands in Detroit – amid the hype and attention – are getting drunk, playing music, and having a whole lot of fun.
By Jimmy Draper

Detroit Bands
By Jimmy Draper

Tongue untied
Satoko Fujii frees her mind – and the music follows.
By Derk Richardson

No rhinestones, ever
There's no glitter on roots singer-songwriters Kim Richey and Hazel Dickens.
By Kimberly Chun

Correct Techniques
Connections
By Mosi Reeves

Adult.

"We have a lot of hate toward that word," Adam Lee Miller groans, lamenting that Adult. have been filed under "electroclash" by journalists in search of the next trend to triumph then trash. "It's just so faddish in the way that it's marketed and the way bands are changing their whole look and whatnot. We're almost afraid of the whole thing, like, 'Please don't associate us with that!' " It's a valid concern for anyone who tinkered with an '80s-electro aesthetic long before Larry Tee made it his personal cause célèbre, but Miller and partner Nicola Kuperus should be sleeping more soundly than most. Last year, while New York and Los Angeles were still planning which way their new asymmetrical 'dos would slant, Adult. self-released Resuscitation (Ersatz Audio), an icy-cool collection of pop-paranoia and robo-monotones that's so superbly original it'll keep the Detroit duo around long after all the Ladytrons and W.I.T.s have been found out for the self-consciously clever in-jokes they are. So while they're tight-lipped about the direction they're taking on the next LP (due this spring) in order to avoid easy categorization, it's safe to assume they're steering clear of the dreaded e word. Kuperus says, laughing, "We're ready to write the anti-electroclash record." (J.D.)

The Paybacks

"We're sort of a different animal from a lot of what goes on around here," says gravel-voiced Wendy Case, hungover at her house on a drab Detroit morning. "We're much more about what we actually grew up listening to on the radio, like Van Halen and AC/DC." No kidding: with 10 first-rate fist-pumpers comprising the band's arena-ready debut, Knock Loud (Get Hip), the Paybacks have a big, bad bag of cheap tricks that's nuthin' like the garagey rust-rock currently putting their hometown in the headlines. Then there's singer-guitarist Case, the band's not-so-secret weapon with a guttural, Chrissie Hynde howl that's as fearless and peerless as rock vox get. And despite doing time in her fair share of bands in San Francisco and Ann Arbor, Mich., since the early '80s, she's still catching folks by surprise with her latest project. "There's an awareness here of what I did in my other bands, except the younger people didn't know where I came from," she says, then chuckles. "When they heard this band, they were like, 'Geez, how'd you learn to do this overnight?!' " Which is just an awestruck way of saying that the Paybacks have hit pay dirt their first time out. (J.D.)

Tamion 12 Inch

A self-described "punk band that happen to use electronics," Tamion 12 Inch tend to ruffle feathers in Detroit's electronic circles with their highly dramatic, audience-interactive performances. And the intensely sexual, electro-primitive trio wouldn't have it any other way. "I love the term that we were 'badgering the audience,' " cofounder Sami (no last names, please) says excitedly, referring to a review of a recent Chicago gig opening for Solvent vs. Lowfish. "It's like we're Lydia Lunch or something!" Taking cues from disco, punk, and the harshness of early Detroit techno, Tamion 12 Inch are currently recording a six-song EP (Ersatz Audio) of bastardized electronica that – judging by hella hot live performances of "Thin Boys Murdered," "Ludus," and "I See U" – will undoubtedly fuck with expectations of what's possible from a laptop act. "Electronic audiences want a really detached relationship with an artist who stands there behind machines. It's like the whole trainspotter mentality, where people just wanna watch the technique and ask what software I use," Sami says. Which definitely isn't the sorta crowd the trio, which also includes singer Tami and electro-trician Riki Mike, envision at their shows. "If you don't wanna be engaged," Tami warns, "then maybe you should go play Pac Man." (J.D.)

The Come Ons

"We always get this soul music tag, which is really off the mark," Patrick Pantano says as he puts an old Machine 45 on his living room's turntable. "Mostly [it's] 'cause we do covers a lot, like old Rufus Thomas songs. It's fun, and we really like that kinda music, but we've always been more into stuff like ESG, A Certain Ratio, and early dance bands." Not exactly what you'd expect from a group cofounded by the drummer for the blues-rockin' Dirtbombs, but the Come Ons have never cared to fit into today's so-called Detroit sound. On the pair of boogie-baitin' albums they recorded for Sympathy for the Record Industry, the pro-disco trio have carved out a niche as the danciest darned combo this side of the city's electronic-rock divide. They've since ditched the on-again-off-again organ in an attempt to "get really minimal," and for their next album plan to perfect the rhythmic art of riding a groove through an entire song. "Sometimes it seems kinda gutsy to play this way," Pantano says proudly. "It's like, 'Can we do this? Can we really just ride this groove for three minutes?' " That depends, one presumes, on the grooves – and the Come Ons got 'em. (J.D.)

Viki

"I was like, 'Get a grip. You people are crazy!' " Lindsay "Viki" Karty says, laughing, as she recalls her first month living among Detroit's high-drama social circles. "If they didn't have the drama, though, maybe they'd be bored – or productive." One of the city's most industrious individuals, Karty took the latter route upon her arrival and began collaborating with local musicians and organizing showcases highlighting artists and musicians not seen in the city's more established venues. It's a DIY ethic that carries over to her rock-oriented electronic work, where the ex-Max Cloud member makes do with self-made gadgets, gewgaws, and found sounds. "I don't sound lo-fi on fucking purpose, though! My god, I'm just too poor to afford the right equipment!" she huffs, defending her ever-evolving solo muzak, which currently straddles the chaotic abyss between Malaria and Ann Arbor's noize boyz, Wolf Eyes. Hanson and ToYo imprints are planning future releases, but for now fans must track down her sole 7-inch, "Perfect Strangers" (Scratch and Sniff). Karty promises plenty more is in store, though. "I have so much I want to do," she says matter-of-factly before heading off to pick up a friend's artwork for her next showcase. "Everyday I have a new idea." (J.D.)