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April 23-29, 2009
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• Keeping it revolutionary
Immortal Technique backs up his radical lyrics with action
by Dan Hinkel
• The survivalists
Local rockers in Gription have learned to sacrifice for their art
by Dylan Otto Krider
 Keeping it revolutionary
Immortal Technique backs up his radical lyrics with action
by Dan Hinkel
If your desire to rage against the machine has not waned, you might want to catch rapper Immortal Technique on Tuesday at the Fox Theatre.
The Peru-born Harlem MC spits a scorching brand of 100 proof anti-capitalist politics. He is not — like Common, Nas, Talib Kweli or Mos Def — a traditional rapper who occasionally dabbles in politics, but a full-time agitator.
Take this as an enticement or a warning: This guy is way strident. He makes dead prez sound like Yale frat boys. He draws inspiration from Che Guevara, the former violent communist revolutionary and current T-shirt logo. IT has rhymed that he suspects the World Trade Center towers were demolished by explosives, a belief he shares with noted political thinker Charlie Sheen. IT is, on all topics, extreme.
IT attacks the mic with inflammatory zeal, and his lyrics are bombastic and self-consciously shocking. He rhymes with humorless turgidity, loud, hard and simple. His verbal dexterity is limited, and in his clunkiest lines, he bears an unflattering resemblance to Dr. Octagon or Bushwick Bill. His words will not be misunderstood, for better or worse.
His music is perhaps the least interesting thing about Immortal Technique, who did not respond to a request for an interview for this story. He recently returned from Afghanistan, where he helped build an orphanage. He is also a board member of the Grassroots Artists MovEment (G.A.ME), a hip-hop union that coordinates healthcare for its members and offers educational programs. Even if you’re not into watching him yell about imperialism for two hours, you have to admit that’s cool.
In short, if you’re a socialist, a conspiracy theorist or a college sophomore basking in the new realization that capitalism systematically victimizes people, you’re going to want this ticket. If not, you can save your rap dollars for the epic Rock the Bells festival this summer in Denver. KRS-One is playing. KRS is politically strident, and he’s a great rapper.
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On the Bill
Immortal Technique performs with Red Cloud, CF and DJ Static at 9 p.m. on Tuesday, April 28, at the Fox Theatre, 1135 13th St., Boulder, 303-447-0095.
 The survivalists
Local rockers in Gription have learned to sacrifice for their art
by Dylan Otto Krider
When you hear a term like the “New West” in the media as often as you do, you can be pretty sure it’s complete horseshit. But in the case of Gription, you might be on to something. They look like rock stars, refer to themselves as former “gutter punks,” and are about to put out a CD of polished alternative rock, yet they come from the wilderness of Wisconsin. They are a compilation of rural and urban, conservative and liberal, half gun-toting hunter and half communal hippie. Their philosophy is impossible to pigeonhole, but since that’s what we do, I would call it a mixture of militant, Randian survivalism, help-your-fellow-man New Dealism and MTV’s Real World, without the drama.
They all come from parents who pursued careers in accounting and architecture, and eventually rejected the bustle of the city and fast-paced careers for life in the open spaces of Wisconsin on their own terms. Drummer Eric Sullivan’s parents tried to set up a dairy, and bassist Nate Folz’s dad gave it all up to become a preacher.
“He wanted to put a smile on people’s faces,” Folz says. “It doesn’t pay to be a jerk.”
“You’re the biggest asshole there is,” Eric says.
“You don’t pay me for it.”
In the case of the brothers, Tom and Vince Patterman, the guitarist and lead singer, respectively, their dad was an honest-to-God trapper, one of the few left in Wisconsin.
“It’s as intense and crazy as it was 100 years ago. He’d travel 20 miles of river dragging an otter sled with traps and beer,” Tom says.
“We always had meat in the freezer, grew our own food… We burned wood our whole lives. That was the only way we knew to heat our home.”
“There’s so many people, you just start running out of space,” Vince says. If their dad taught them anything, it was to be free. “Without it, money and power are meaningless.”
So, the band got their midlife crisis out of the way early and pursued what they loved. They’ve been living in the same house for six years, which Sullivan points out is half as long as his mom’s three marriages.
“You know how you hear some guy say, ‘I wish I could marry a guy and have sex with women my whole life’?”
Well, they’re living the dream.
Their house in Wisconsin burned down, and it was the Red Cross that bailed them out, which is why they like to do so many charity shows for the organization. Having gone as far as they could locally, they packed it up and moved to Boulder because they couldn’t stomach the thought of L.A. They needed that open space their parents had sought out, a place to clear the head and be free.
Having grown up on farms and secluded cabins, they have the work ethic that made their cohabitation possible. If something needs to get done, they do it. There’s no riding someone’s ass about pulling their share. If someone’s bringing home the bread, the others do the housework.
“We aren’t lazy people.” Vince says. “Everyone knows we have a goal.”
At one point, a few members of the band were working in a computer repair shop, and the owner wanted out of the business. So they bought it, and that’s how they support themselves between gigs. As they say, they are proof you can actually work together, live together and play together. They even vacation together.
“We’ve all given up family and normalcy as young men to pick up a guitar,” Vince says.
Their music demonstrates the same work-ethic, the kind of solid, well-crafted tunes that don’t come from noodling around on the guitar in front of the Xbox, but rolling up your sleeves and getting your hands dirty.
The cover of their new CD, Last in Line, is of a soup line during the Depression, a reminder of the hard times that weren’t so long ago and might not be far away. As one of the better tracks on the album says, you’re always “Three Meals from a Revolution.” It is the sort of thing they have always written about; rather than fitting the times, the times seem to be starting to fit them.
Do what you love, and you never work a day in your life — but to do what you love, you’ve got to work at it.
“I don’t spend the weekend going out and partying because I spent every weekend for three years playing in bars,” Vince says.
“When you’re playing five shows in a row, the third one is work,” Sullivan says, “and the rest are hell.”
Maybe one day, they’ll have a midlife crisis of their own and all become accountants, but right now, they’re living life on their own terms.
“We can live, we can eat, we have our toys,” Vince says. “What more could you possibly want?”
Sullivan agrees. “We’ve lived on a lot less.”
On the Bill
Gription performs with Something Underground, Demon Funkies and The Stigmas at 6 p.m. on Saturday, April 25, at the Foundry, 1109 Walnut St., Boulder, 303-447-1803.
Respond: letters@boulderweekly.com
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