TRUMANS WATER
The Singles 1992-1997
Shortly after revealing that Trumans Water has never transcribed a single lyric or howl in its 13 years of banddom, Kevin Branstetter drops a proverbial bomb.

"We're pretty political and philosophical," says the guitarist, whose band joins former Captain Beefheart guitarist Moris Tepper on Friday night at the 3B Tavern. "And we're getting a little more so."

Before dumping Trumans Water into the eunuch colony with Eminem's "Mosh" and the 4-trillion Political! Statement! Bands! of the past election season, consider its legacy.

Trumans Water makes noise. And memorable noise - the kind that inspired a random Sub Pop Records to encourage promotion of Friday night's show in light of the "top-five-all-time spazz punk skronk junk" concert he, Trumans Water and a dozen or so other onlookers shared during the band's last tour in 1999. Think epileptic fit, with guitars.

In other words, the party line is anarchy. Though it's the kind you rationalize with a few years of higher education.

Branstetter and brother Kirk formed Trumans Water in San Diego in 1991 with a 69-year-old drummer and singer Glen Galloway, who later downsized to record-only status after forming Jesuscentric experimental group Soul-Junk. With the senior soon leaving and drum duties turning to Kevin Cascell, the guitarist brothers honed Trumans Water from an indie-rock contemporary of early Pavement and Mudhoney to the freewheeling incongruities of Beefheart, Arab on Radar and Wolf Eyes.

Much can be gleaned from the band's two most-recent CDs, last year's "You are in the Line of Fire and They are Shooting at You" and a singles compilation whose song titles might be even more indicative: "Do the Spazz." "Ride the No-Wave." "I Drive a UFO."

The Singles 1992-1997 encapsulates the band's ascent, largely spurred by late BBC DJ John Peel spinning Trumans Water on his influential radio show. It bought the band a European audience. As did Trumans Water's proclivity for flooding the markets with recording - be it improvised or surprisingly not. So much so that its 1995 album Milktrain to Paydirt, released for totally legit Homestead Records, hit the streets before anyone got around to mastering it.

"The CD sounds like bad vinyl, and on vinyl, it just sounds like ...," Branstetter says. "I can't listen to it."

And vocals? Nah, don't ask.

Should there be a political statement in Trumans Water's M.O., it likely won't be an obvious one. Plus, Branstetter has gained an alternate perspective: Although the band is based in Portland, Ore., where it's set to record its next missive, he has called Paris home for the past decade.

So he's relaxed, cut down the national-touring bit. He's learned that even though no one really would notice if they make it through a seizurish set without messing up, it's not only a blessing but also a lesson.

"I guess we've become adept at that free-jazz thing," Branstetter says. "It's a matter of going with your mistakes."

Tony Stasiek - Bellingham Herald, 11/10/2004