Category: Telephone Man

October 31, 1994
The Telephone Man
Castner c/w Automatic Pilot seven inch
[SDK-38] First 300: handmade designs on blank white seven inch covers with photocopied inserts. Second 200: laser printed one-of-a-kind covers with fax paper inserts.

The Telephone Man’s second studio release unsuspectingly became the last release of new material that Slamdek would issue. The two-song seven inch was the result of a summer’s worth of energy. It began in May 1994 when bassist Ashli State left the band to play full time in Guilt, with whom she was already sharing her skills. At the beginning of June, Matt Ronay graduated from duPont Manual High School. The night of his graduation, I expressed to him how sad I was that the Telephone Man full length album we were planning wasn’t going to be happening. He, Ben Brantley, and I hung out that night and drove out to Fern Creek to play Putt-Putt. We had a lot of fun during the excursion. As the conversation progressed, I volunteered that if the three remaining band members would stick together, I would play bass for the rest of the summer so they could record an album of all their current material. After seeing great bands like Crawdad and Sister Shannon escape the recording process, I wasn’t about to let that happen to another one of my favorite bands, if I could help it. Ben and Matt agreed, as did drummer Nick
Hennies when they told him.

Three months earlier, while Ashli was still in the bass position, they had recorded four more songs at DSL. The February 1994 session remains unissued with the slight exception of “Let Me Tell You…” that appeared on a free cassette given away at the first Slamdek Rockers field hockey game in March ’94. This recording session was part of the beginning of the end of Ashli’s work with the band. She had to leave the studio early to practice with Guilt. Matt wasn’t too happy about that.

“Douglass Boulevard”: The boy’s angel was out at sea. He had an anchor tied to his hip. I let him go… Hovering over the boy, the angel spread his sparse wings around the boy. The light still shone through his wings, they were all worn from protecting. All that the boy thinks that he has been through. He came into the room holding the small, red bag in one hand, reaching for the nail to put it upon. He reached and reached and fit it upon the resting place where it was supposed to cover him up at night. Last night he was covered, even though the boy and the angels slept in separate rooms. The boy knelt down in his tattered garden. A desperate tear clinging to his face, the fluid blurred his disturbed sight. Revealing only the emptiness before him. The dirty hands that are all stained only because of him, that are scarred only because of him, that are callused because of what he did to himself, that are worn to the bone because of the things that he said to himself every morning.

“Let Me Tell You How Much I Like You So You Can Treat Me Like Shit”: Why? Why did I have to be the one to keep your mind off her? Was I random? Was I convenient? I didn’t want to be a piece in your game. Isn’t it funny how the person who makes you feel like everything can make you feel like nothing? I didn’t need you to make me think that everything I ever thought about myself was true. Why didn’t you tell me that you were afraid? I didn’t need you. I didn’t need you to make me feel like nothing. I already did. So here I am, aborted, left to walk out of this just like I walked into it. Empty.

“Rain = Flood”: The rain fell down dark and heavy. It covered the windows. It covered everything. It came through the window seals. Hearts made of steel. No more light next to boxes and boxes. Short live long rain. It came running and running. Condensating glass. Crushed me to sleep.

“Kelly”: I feel the pavement is gray, the pavement beckons me to the ground. I feel I should be happy at least once in a while. The nighttime has shred. You remind me as long as I lie to myself I will always be hurt. Temporary is permanent. Forever is a lie. Trust is not a valid reason. Will you stay for a while?

When I joined the band, we began practicing almost immediately. The first few practices were at Nick’s parents’ house in Hikes Point. We were all excited about the prospect of playing with each other and we shared a mutual enthusiasm for the music. By midsummer, practices had been relocated to Matt’s parents’ house in the Highlands and things got increasingly louder as it progressed.

In late July we took all our equipment to a huge house off Brownsboro Road near Chenoweth Lane. The house belonged to the parents of graphic artist and Macintosh guru Zan Hoffman. They were in the process of moving so the house was virtually empty. Over the course of two cool, damp summer nights, Zan recorded our entire hour-long set on an eight track machine. This was to possibly become a Telephone Man album, however, the house was sold and we never had the opportunity to add vocals or mix any of the recording. It all sounded relatively good, though, and had a really wide, crisp, raw sound.

We played a $3 show at a Baxter Avenue coffee house called Highland Grounds in early August with Serial Heroes. Our hour-long set included all of the songs from the February recording except “Rain = Flood,” as well as a few other tunes held over from the later days with Ashli (“If She Tried…”), and new ones that had materialized since I joined (“Heretic,” “Castner,” “Nothing Left To Offer,” and “Automatic Pilot”).

The Telephone Man played its last show upstairs in the Louisville Gardens Theatre with Falling Forward and Hedge on August 18, 1994. We did a shorter version of the same set, playing for 38 minutes, of which I made a DAT recording.

The following day, we visited Mike Baker at DSL to record this seven inch of two new songs from the summer, “Castner” and “Automatic Pilot.” This was the day before Matt went away to school in Baltimore, and hence the last opportunity to document the band. The T-Man’s last stand, so to speak. We were there only a few hours and everything went as smoothly as could be expected. Slamdek was exceptionally low on funds, having put out the Endpoint CD reissue, so the Telephone Man DAT sat around for about a month. When money came in again, it got sent to United in Nashville for the seven inch pressing.

“Castner”: In Castner’s world, things are lit by the light of the moon. It reflects on shiny things. I hold Castner’s hand while I watch flashes of light in the sycamores. In Castner’s world, the sea is a place, the sea is a place where lonely sailors go to. I guess that is where he makes his home. He asked me to understand what it’s like to make the night your home. I try to, I try to understand. I try to, and Castner sleeps. I kissed Castner on the mouth. Castner slept. And then he sank down to the bottom of the sea.

“Automatic Pilot”: For a brief moment I controlled the sun. I gave it life, I saw it dance on the wings. I made it dance on wings on air. Catching my eye. What more could a boy ask for? I gripped the steering shaft. I controlled the sun. I gave it life. I saw rays dance on wings of alloy. I made them dance on wings of steel. Catching my eye and propelling me from my single to a control stick fighter. Until they caught my eye and propelled me from the yoke of my single to the control stick of a fighter. Or maybe it was a Concorde or Boeing. What more could a boy ask for? Maybe something super, something sonic, something I couldn’t control at all.

Matt came home for a weekend in October during which he, Ben, and I trudged through a stack of 300 blank white seven inch covers. With the assistance of Matt’s rubber stamp collection, some colored water, markers, leaves, fabric, and spray adhesive, we made about 300 one-of-a-kind seven inch covers. I later made another 100 with the Macintosh, printing over magazine pages and paper samples Matt and I collected two years earlier while working on the Ennui 7″. And Matt made another 100 when he went back to Baltimore with paint and stencils. The record was released on Halloween to all the usual local stores, and was shortly after picked up in distribution by Caroline, Cargo, Revelation, Network Sound, Victory, and Dutch East.

The Telephone Man seven inch sold about 350 copies in the short four months between its release and the closing of Slamdek. About 150 copies of the first and only pressing remained at that time. As the band’s best selling release, the posthumous record gained them a small cult following and took their music outside of the city limits for the first time.

When Matt returned for the Christmas holidays in 1994, he and Ben began making four track recordings of songs with a country flavor. This project, Marcellus, never released anything nor played live, but put Matt behind the drum set. He also recorded some folky lo-fi songs while at school with friend Mandy Katz. He sent me a tape of some of these notable songs, one of which, “650 Miles,” was covered into a cheesy rock version on Metroschifter’s Number One For A Second 7″.

LINER NOTES:

Side one:
Castner

Side two:
Automatic Pilot

Matt Ronay, guitar
Ben Brantley, guitar/vocals
Nick Hennies, drums
Scott Ritcher bass

Recorded by Mike Baker at DSL

October 11, 1993
The Telephone Man
cassette
[SDK-35] color copied inserts, laser printed labels. limited edition of first 50 units had handmade packaging, some in books-on-tape long boxes and some in Norelco boxes

Over the course of 1993, The Telephone Man evolved from a drum machine project into a full-fledged band. The recording of this self-titled cassette (often referred to as “No. 35”) was the band’s first visit to the studio. It not only preserved Matt Ronay’s quickly evolving songwriting abilities, but also expressed an emphasis on a return to earlier Slamdek ideals. As mentioned in the discussion of Matt’s previous band, Ennui, earlier in the book, the group of kids he came from grew up on Slamdek. The label was now to the age where it was a part of the old scene and The Telephone Man’s cassette has a decidedly retro-Slamdek look and sound, coupled with an all new approach. Matt and I were logging a lot of hours together doing the never-ending Slamdek chores of cutting, folding, mailing, and all that.
The tape came into existence during a unique timespan. The T-Man recorded these four songs in mid-September 1993, and the tape was in stores about three weeks later, a classic old-Slamdek-style turnaround. Sunspring had recorded a Rick Springfield cover in July 1993 for a second split seven inch with Endpoint (SDK-33). Endpoint hadn’t recorded yet and Sunspring was on its deathbed, so that record didn’t come out until December. Francy Yingling and I were also in the process of working on a seven inch under her name (SDK-34). Francy’s record was eventually cancelled about six months later, before it was completed (see page 155). The Telephone Man’s SDK-35 was recorded and released in a short three week time period, quickly and seemingly effortlessly, while the label’s other projects crawled toward completion at a sleepy pace. Because of The Telephone Man’s expedient progress, their cassette bridged a gap of seven months between the releases of the Sunspring CD and the second Endpoint/Sunspring split 7″. And as a result, it slipped into the fortunate position of being the only new Slamdek release for the fall, and reaching far more people than it otherwise would have. Had the other records come out on schedule, The Telephone Man, the underdog as a new band, would have been sharing advertising space with heavyweights Endpoint and Sunspring, as well as the other new entry, Francy Yingling.

In stark contrast to Matt’s earlier work, and the rest of the stuff on Slamdek, The Telephone Man’s sound was especially darker, moodier, rawer, and more direct. The band had no image they were trying to project, nor any preconceived notions that they were anything relevant to anybody. There was no thick, beefy guitar sound, or heavy handed rhythm section. Instead, their songs took shape by building from basic instrumental ideas, and expanding them to include vocals or distortion as the moods developed. The four songs clock in at just under twenty minutes. Ashli State, on bass, contributed backing vocals which expanded the sound to even wider degrees. The band’s music was dynamic, seemingly uneasy, and had a mechanical feel. Two of the songs on the tape included tracks of Matt, drummer Nick Hennies, and friend Ben Brantley banging on sheet metal and other clangy objects; an idea directly derived from Cerebellum’s cassette in 1989.

The recording and mixing took place September 18 and 19, 1993. While it was recorded at DSL by Mike Baker, The Telephone Man didn’t have the budget to work with that Sunspring did earlier in the year, nor did they desire to pour a lot of time into the recording. DSL was slowly beginning to function as a normal studio, bringing in more and more outside clients, and The Telephone Man was among the first round. They were interested in basically just setting up the equipment, turning on the tape recorders, playing their songs, doing some nominal mixing, and going home. Quite the opposite approach to recording that DSL’s previous clients Sunspring and Hopscotch Army had taken. The recording process went pretty smoothly considering it was the band’s first visit to a studio. I came along, as I had with Ennui, to listen and to be of assistance when needed. But Mike Baker ran the show and got the raw, unproduced sound the band was looking for. The tape sounds pretty much like the band sounded when they were standing there playing in the Jeffersontown home studio; provided the necessary volume is added, of course.

About two weeks before recording, The Telephone Man played a show at Iroquois Amphitheatre. The sunny, clear afternoon performance closed with the emotionally-drenched debut of a new, ten minute song, “Grandfather.”

“It’s dark in the midafternoon as light filters through drawn shades. The sheets wrapped around my body as I try to sleep, as I try to remember. The light takes my energy away. Pick me up, put me down, I’m not as pure as you thought I would be. I can’t sleep for what I remember of you. Pick me up, put me down, I’m not as pure as you thought I would be. I lit the match, I held it to my lungs, it’s supposed to bring you back. I wish you could see who I am, see what I have done, see who I am. The sky’s colors are all running through, they’re making grey, I wish you were here. I can remember the way that you smile, the way that you laugh. I know that you’re gone. The leaves fall off the trees, to the ground that you lay on, and you are not here. I wish I could say goodbye to you on that day in May, but I was somewhere else. I know that you’re somewhere else too, but I know it’s the same way.”

September 1993, The Telephone Man at Iroquois Amphiringing intheatre:
Ashli State, Matt Ronay, Nick Hennies.

The Telephone Man cassette didn’t set any amazing sales records or change the face of the earth. In fact, it only sold about 165 copies. There is no doubt that the odds were undoubtedly stacked against it. Slamdek was in the middle of a strange time, not just in the months surrounding its release, but for about six months before it and for a year after it. It was alone in the spotlight for about two months as the only new item, but when December rolled around it quickly began getting buried. Slamdek had three releases in December and another in January. In trying to keep up with all of it, the label was considerably overextended (more than usual).

Furthermore, The Telephone Man was evolving so rapidly that the tape was hardly a reflection of the group by the new year.
In December 1993, Ben Brantley joined the group on second guitar. His addition to the group expanded their horizons in all directions. The quiet parts got quieter, the heavy parts got heavier, the intricate parts got more intricate, and the contrast between vocal and instrumental portions became more extreme. The group returned to DSL in February 1994 to document four more songs. Perhaps some of their finest material, it was unfortunately never released. “Douglass Boulevard” is mostly instrumental with a quiet narrative by Matt in the middle, then he and Ben share vocals at the end. For the classic “Let Me Tell You How Much I Like You So You Can Treat Me Like Shit,” Ashli takes the lead vocal. This song appeared on a free Slamdek sampler tape given away at the first Slamdek Rockers field hockey game, March 19, 1994. And Matt handles the vocals for the dramatic “Rain = Flood” and the short and catchy “Kelly.”

After the February 1994 session, they began to settle into their niche. Their full, defining sound was one totally unique to them, yet unmistakably major league Louisvillian. But like Cerebellum and many other earlier Slamdek bands, The Telephone Man’s true importance was never fully evident until it was too late. During their two years together, they metamorphosed so constantly that they essentially played a completely different style of music every four or five months. In their later days, the stereotypical Louisville genre they were often pigeonholed into was one they helped develop during its crucial times. But as the unsung heroes of the genre, they took to the home stretch quietly.

“I will follow you, through the woods, through the fields of grain. I will walk up steps of steel, and I will brush away things that do not heal. Decision making processes can grow here if we let them metamorphosize, let them go, be free. I don’t know what I am doing when I decide where I am going. I don’t know. Needles and stitches.”

LINER NOTES:

Side one:
Muldoon
Whole Man, Half Man
I Will Follow You
Grandfather

Side two was blank.

[Some 1994 editions of the cassette have the first three songs on side one and “Grandfather” on side two.]

Produced by Mike Baker and Scott Ritcher. Cover design by Matt Ronay.

Nick Hennies, drums
Ashli State, bass/vocals
Matt Ronay, guitar/vocals

Thank you’s: ASHLI: Max Jason Dollinger (this is about you, thanks?), Suzanna Stoll, Jason N., Jeff M., Layla, Jason H., Tara, K. Scott, Mr. and Mrs. Hennies. NICK: Kendle. MATT: Scott, Ben, Nick and Ashli, Nick’s parents, Jason N., Rodan, Josh, Layla, Endpoint, Drew, Samantha, Greg King, and Buzz.

The Slamdek Record Companyslamdek.com
K Composite Media,