Triplefastaction....Squealer, Issue #15, July/August 1996

Writer's note: Though much recent press on this lovely and talented band uses the spelling "tripl3fastaction," I've chosen to stick with the original King's English spelling because, hey, it's easier on the copy editors, it's easier on the readers, and dadgumit, it's my ink. Forgive me, fellas.

As with most of the important people in my life, my first meeting with Wes Kidd was over pickled herring. I didn't touch the funky fish, of course, and neither did he, which only increased my respect for the man.

Guitarist, lead vocalist, songwriter, and all-around spokesperson for Triple Fast Action, Kidd was in Minneapolis for a semi-exclusive release party for Broadcaster, TFA's remarkable full-length debut on Capitol Records. The site of the celebration was Lee's Liquor Bar, where a host of Minne-archetypal old ladies had laid out a magnificent home-cooked spread: hot turkey and gravy, Swedish meatballs, potato salad, sandwiches, green beans, Old Dutch chips, pretzels, chocolate chip cookies, and the aforementioned herring. Kidd seemed pretty overwhelmed. "This place is awesome," he says with smile, looking around at the wood-paneled bar that's more akin to a roadside Iron Range tavern than a big city rock club.

Happy to relax among a friendly, tipsy bar crowd, the band has just driven in from their native Chicago, that Midwestern rock n' roll hotbed where a bundle of major labels made a signing sweep a couple of years ago on the merits of meaty alternative acts like Smashing Pumpkins, Liz Phair, and Urge Overkill. Triple Fast Action lived out the pipe dreams of scores of strat-wielding indie kids, managing to snag their deal with Capitol in late 1994 after releasing only two low profile seven-inches (one on Hit It!, one on Limited Potential) and stirring up a modest but devoted Windy City following.

"It was a lot of fun," Kidd say, reflecting on the industry feeding frenzy. "Veruca Salt, Loud Lucy, Fig Dish, Smoking Popes, everybody was kinda talking to each other because it was such a new thing for everyone. We were all kind of trying to watch out for each other so no one got too ripped off, even though I'm sure we all did."

Sheesh. Only one record and he already sounds jaded. But if the talented Kidd really feels like he got taken, maybe it's due to the much-lamented delay in Capitol's release of Broadcaster. The 13-song post-punk epic was recorded in February of 1995, but the label hung onto it for over a year before sending it to stores this past spring. Capitol brass claims that they were just waiting for the right time, and to be fair, the first single, ("Revved Up") has made a nice match with '96 summer radio airwaves. Also, touring and promotional backing has been vamped up by the big time successes of label mates like Everclear and Radiohead.

"[Capitol] stuck with a lot of records which most labels don't," says Kidd. "They've been working this Radiohead record for over a year and it's finally starting to pay off. At most labels you get two weeks and if you aren't showing signs of selling, then you're done."

On record, Triple Fast Action's music was shepherded by the engineering prowess of John Agnello (Walt Mink, Jawbox). "It scared me when we were doing it," Kidd says, "because it started to sound too good, too studio, too perfect. Like, guitar parts would come in at the perfect time and then just disappear. So we had to take a step back for awhile and trying to screw it up a little bit."

"There was this whole thing going on when we were recording," he continues. "People were like, 'It's your first record, so don't try to make this big, produced thing.' But at the same time, here I am thinking, 'This might be my only chance to make a record the way I want to. I'm not gonna make it sound crappy just because it's our first record.' I think we split the difference. I wish it were a little more raw, but I'm really happy with it."

A veteran of Political Justice?, part of Chicagoland's 1980's punk machine, the geeky-looking Kidd does seem to carry a bit of punk rock baggage. As the conversation turns to today's punk revival, he waxes critical: "New punk rock doesn't even compare to what it used to be. I used to go see Husker Du play to ten people and they were big and fat and sweaty, totally cool. What I hear today doesn't sound like the stuff I knew as punk rock. Offspring aren't punk rock to me. People might like it or whatever, but I don't know why they get lumped into that category." I take this opportunity to remind him that the Offspring guys sport Germs and Dead Kennedys t-shirts. "Exactly!" Kidd exclaims. "Brand new ones! Fuckin' idiots. I do like that Rancid record, though, just 'cause they ripped off the Clash so bad that they should be sued for it. They got away with it and it sounds really good. But you know, the mohawks and stuff, I could take it or leave it."

Eventually I bring up Cheap Trick, another Chicago band with whom TFA have been laterally compared by a few hometown critics. "I love that band," Kidd admits. "Actually, I went and saw them not too long ago, and they're just as good as they used to be. Those guys can crank out the hits like no one. Yeah, a lot of people have been saying that they think our record sounds a lot like Cheap Trick. I don't get it. It's a good compliment, but I don't think my vocals sound like them and I don't think the music sounds like them. It must just be because there's harmonies and stuff which some bands shy away from."

The chip bowl starts looking pretty shallow and the guys finally decide to hit the stage for a short set. The rage through the choicest tracks from Broadcaster: the blissful power pop ditty "American City World," the punk-tinged "Bird Again" ("That song is about getting signed and having everyone kiss my ass") the ten minute opus "Superstar" ("I wanted that to be the first song of the record, but then I realized that wasn't too smart"), plus a new song that blows several onlookers away. Onstage, TFA is an awfully hard-working outfit, pounding out a loud, arena-distorto-pop sound that even the ornery bartenders at Lee's can't seem to dismiss.

While label folks and assorted local industry guests schmooze over paper plates, free merchandise, and bottled beer, Kidd and band-mates Kevin Tihista, Brian St. Clair and Ronnie Schneider shoot pool. After a few dates opening for Smoking Popes, they're already exhausted. TFA's summer plans include a coast to coast jaunt with Magnapop, and hopefully hooking up with Goo Goo Dolls or Everclear later in the year. "For us to tour on our own, it just isn't gonna work," Kidd chuckles. "We might get lucky and have three people show up. That's the honest-to-God truth."

James Diers appears courtesy of The Twin Cities Reader