Like so many things great and terrible, it began in a casino.
In 1994, on the 13th floor of Las Vegas' Circus Circus,
an unnamed band was hanging out with a girl from Essex,
England, spinning a Red House Painters disc and dreaming
of a rock-'n'-roll future. Suddenly, the Essex Girl (as
the band has fondly called her since) declared that the
aspiring stars should name themselves the American Girls,
after a lyric from the Painters' song "New Jersey."
From such humble origins, history is born. Five years later,
those same boys stand on the edge of fame, their names newly
inked on a contract with Trauma Records, the label that
elevated Bush and No Doubt to the hit parade.
Known for their catchy, energetic pop songs, the men of
the American Girls came together at the University of Oregon.
"We were college kids that had fun playing music," reminisces
trumpet player and keyboardist Gustav Baum. As the Girls
split their time between Eugene and Portland for a few years
before permanently setting up shop in the Rose City in 1998,
that collegiate enthusiasm led to three indie albums--one
of which, 1997's Fairweather Words for Fairweather Friends,
was recorded in a single day.
Now, the American Girls have gone, as they put it, "from
tee-ball to the major leagues." Their Trauma debut is scheduled
for release in October. With the label's professional marketing
team replacing the DIY self-promotion of the Girls' past,
this summer may be your last chance to see them without
paying outrageous Ticketmaster fees.
With anticipation of the big time comes the pressure of
being backed by a major label, and all the Girls--Baum,
mononymous singer Higgins, guitarist Scott Georgis, bassist
Aaron Masonek and drummer Dan Stieg Jr.--feel it. "We're
supposed to sell millions of copies or be a failure," they
confess, nearly in unison.
Rock stars or failures, the American Girls say they're
living a dream come true. Luckily for them, there are no
lurking ogres in this fairy tale so far. The story boils
down to having the right fans as fairy godmothers--KNRK
DJs Jamie Cooley and Jayn. Last year, the radio jocks introduced
the American Girls to station program director Mark Hamilton,
who passed a demo on to Trauma.
At the time, the band was negotiating with other labels,
including Atlantic, DreamWorks and Immortal, which had even
put an offer on the table. But Trauma A&R types were
so impressed with the demo that they flew to Portland in
April and signed the group to a two-record deal. (After
the second album, Trauma has the option to sign them on
for three additional records.) Within two weeks of signing,
the Girls were in Falcon Studios on East Burnside Street
recording their upcoming album, Like the Movies, Only
Slower. The quintet, described by Higgins as specializing
in "love songs for romantically depressed suckers," harbors
platinum hopes for this new opus.
With more financial freedom this time around, the American
Girls pulled in some local musician friends, including Five
Fingers of Funk's DJ Chill. Longtime producer and friend
Ezra Holbrook claims that Like the Movies, Only Slower
is far superior to their previous recordings. "They had
time to make a real record," Holbrook notes. Such are the
benefits of being backed by a label--no more rushed one-day
recordings.
"Finally, we could make an album and not worry about the
cost," Baum says. The album is currently undergoing the
arduous process of mixing and mastering.
Of course, all work and no play makes for dull American
Girls. Whiling away the months until their album's release,
they're taking their raucous live show on a West Coast tour.
Mixing trumpet with such rock-music essentials as guitar
and drums, the group easily slides between upbeat, rocking
pop and gritty ballads. As they'll happily tell you themselves,
they make a lot of noise and jump around.
The American Girls report, with great relief, that the
horror stories common to major labels have so far been absent
in their experience with Trauma.
"We are totally euphoric," confesses Baum. "This is every
band's dream come true."
So what do they hope to accomplish through rock superstardom?
Higgins, for one, is all ambition.
"I want to be so big that they have to play our music so
much on MTV that they can't play The Real World,"
he declares. America, start phoning in your requests.
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Willamette Week | originally
published June 16, 1999
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