My Monster

February 28-March 6, 2007
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Monster mosh: No monster throws a party like My Monster.
Monster Party

My Monster celebrates the release of its first full-length CD with an all-star party
By Ryan Osterbeck


SEAN "Freak Monkey" Fuller, bassist for the band My Monster, has something to scream about. They're called San Franciscans.

"I heard on Live 105 last week," says Fuller, "some listener called up saying, 'Where is music for us?' meaning the thirtysomethings out there that grew up with '80s and '90s alternative. I wanted to reach through my radio and scream at them and say 'IT IS IN SAN JOSE! DON'T YOU EVER GET OUT OF [SAN FRANCISCO]?'"

Meanwhile, in San Jose, My Monster have seen the live music scene grow along with them, and their CD release show at the Blank Club on Friday night is their kind of quasi tribute to their roots and influences in a local scene that's far from dead. Think of this show as a sort of crash course on the new, maturing forces directing San Jose live music.

The band will bring members from some of the hardest-working, hardest-rocking local outfits—OTTO, Jade of Days, Atomic Mint, Point 3, Kung Fu Vampire—up onstage for inclusive sets.. It's a definitive reflection of just how tight-knit bands in the local scene have become.

My Monster have nearly grown into the potential that they, and we, always knew was there, and now it's their time to prove who they are as a band. The intense and emotive four-piece have just completed their first full-length CD, In Tune With the Voices in Your Head, and have just come off a string of powerful performances at area venues that they've simply rocked. Now, My Monster is poised to bring its attitude-laden alternative rock to the masses.

"This album is the culmination of almost five years of musical creativity as a band," explains drummer Joey Guthrie. "As we go along, our sound is getting more progressive and heavy."

My Monster has a distinct edge over many other local outfits, due in no small part to the twin vocal and guitar attacks of Joyce "Statis" Kuo and MC Shockey that plays out in a delicate counterbalancing dance between serenity and chaos, between love and hate. My Monster makes solid emotional music that hits like a strong kick to the gut, and soars over the random heartless cacophony on the airwaves.

"The lyrics represent love, loss, the struggles of our society," explains Shockey. "We spent a lot of time getting the parts right. ... The new music is darker and more dynamic."

But the sublime aural blending doesn't stop with the two guitarists/vocalists duking it out on the front half of the stage. Behind Statis and MC, Guthrie pounds the kit with a focused calmness while Fuller directs the musical traffic with his bass lines, driving the sound exactly where it needs to go.

It's tight, it spans varying genres and, yes, it's alternative—but what's the secret sauce?

"The new album has a lot of pop sensibility," says Statis, "but I think we secretly want to be a metal band. We started taking a more artistic approach to our music after spending time in the studio."

After several recording attempts at various local studios, ITWTVIYH was eventually cut at the Bones & Knives Studio, working closely with producer Terry Carleton, who also worked with the band on their No Sirens EP.

While sticking to their battle-tested energetic style, the sound on their new tracks (and what's reflected in their live performances) is more mature—and eminently more polished—than My Monster's previous works. Shockey, the main force behind nearly all of My Monster's music, is also largely responsible for the new material, but all the members of My Monster have their hands and personal styles in the creative process—a dynamism that is readily apparent in the band's live shows.

"Our live performances can get a little out of control sometimes," says Statis, "and we have a blast."

"I just flail around and hope I hit the right notes," adds Fuller; "recording is a whole other ball of wax."

Guthrie concurs, "Live performances [are] the only reason that studio time is tolerable."


My Monster plays on Friday (March 2) at 9pm at the Blank Club, 44 S. Almaden Ave, San Jose. Tickets are $10. (408.292.5265)


- Metro Active

Happy Endings at 12 Galaxies
Jacob Richardson - January 20, 2005
12 Galaxies -- Due to complications beyond my control I missed the first half dozen sets of 12 Galaxies A&R Open House extravaganza. I wasn’t too upset about that because there were still another half dozen bands yet to play that I knew I’d be able to catch. Plus, the main reason I was at this event was to see My Monster perform, and since they were the last band on the bill, I didn’t feel rushed at all.

Things finally worked themselves out and I met My Monster’s bassist, Shawn (who prefers being called Freak Monkey), outside of the club where he handed me my ticket. We exchanged pleasantries before I head inside to catch my first band of the night, Sand Fly.

It was my first time inside 12 Galaxies, and the crowd was a weird limbo between Punk and Hipster—A lot of tight jeans paired with burly leather jackets. For the most part, everyone there was pretty young—a couple of girls had large X’s on their hands and kept telling everyone that they’re under 21. With the venue being in San Francisco’s Mission District, it suffers from the all-too-familiar fashion affliction; everyone wants to look like they don’t give a damn, yet it’s more than obvious that they spent most of the evening in front of a mirror trying to perfect their apathetic, disheveled look.

Anyhow, Sand Fly were clean, composed and weren’t ashamed to admit it. The keyboards added a glossy sheen to their hearty Pop Rock. A bit too harmless for the dudes with tattoos and girls with lip rings, but the upper and lower ends of the age spectrum seemed to enjoy their benign style. An older woman (obviously the mother of someone playing in another band) standing next to me tapped her middle-aged friend on the arm during Sand Fly’s set and said in awe, “I like these guys!”


Sand Fly

Next were the Luxury Suites. They looked like wannabe high school rebels and they probably would’ve been the hippest thing in homeroom if it were still the ‘60s. Unfortunately it’s 40 years too late. The vocalist—who I like to call Baby Mick Jagger—led the pre-pubescent quintet well as they bopped through upgraded Beach Punk with tons of energy.

After them, Shawn Brown swooped in. For their three song set, a guy looking strikingly similar to Papa Roach’s Jacoby Shaddix led his evangelical band on a soulful crusade that made the idea of actually following God sound not too terrible. It kind of worked. Their Urban Gospel style didn’t cause too many ugly sneers even when their first song repeatedly chanted some uplifting line about how Jesus wants us all to be awesome. I was surprised at how much of an applause they got since hipsters tend to think that organized religion isn’t that cool.

Planting Seeds followed. Okay, let’s not beat around the bush-these guys like Sublime. They probably have romantic fantasies about the members of Sublime. There was probably at least one Sublime tattoo on stage when they played. Now, we can argue forever about which album of theirs was better, 40oz To Freedom or the self-titled (I personally prefer the latter, and anyone who wants to debate, feel free to email me). Planting Seeds is like a compilation of Sublime B-sides—stuff that true fans would buy out of obligation. PS were good, and very SoCal, but didn’t have that addictive hook that’s indescribable. A reggae core solidified the smooth vocals and decorated with the extra pizzazz of an alto sax.

By this point I, and the rest of the crowd, were more than a few drinks into the night and were getting restless. I could feel the pent up energy simmering behind the eyes of everyone I looked at. Scraping For Change helped alleviate a bit of that tension. More Hard Rock than anything previously heard during the show, their little spackling of grit was exactly what we needed, yet somehow, it seemed a bit too manufactured. All of the usual suspects were there: frustrated lyrics, driving bass, and a pulsing undertone of angst. But again, like with Planting Seeds, that spark wasn’t there. They sounded like they were made for summertime radio singles that would be forgotten as soon as the leaves change (remember Cold, anyone? Adema?). The end of their last song “Contact High” was the electric shock that primed everyone up for the last two bands, Suffocate The Creep and My Monster.

Ahhh, Suffocate the Creep, the poor man’s Incubus (although I think that poor man can afford Incubus by now). They cranked everything up to 11, much to people’s delight. The night was gaining noticeable momentum with each new band. The scrawny frontman of STC bellowed in the audience’s face with pure emotion, unleashed. They had the energy, but the guitar was turned way too low—it was essentially a bass and drum with crooning vocals. Had the guitar been audible at all, I think they would’ve been killer, but the small amount of riffage I did hear sounded promising. Blame the sound guy, even though STC made a special mention to thank him.


Suffocate the Creep

Finally, a little after 11 pm, My Monster was set to play. This was why I was there, the reason I sat alone through band after band sweating hard from the tight quarters and trying not to let the screeches of all of the under-21 girls make me stab myself in the chest. I wanted My Monster to deliver just so my Saturday night wouldn’t have been spent in vain.

For some reason, the crowd had thinned out considerably which made no sense. Who blows out before the headlining band, especially when the previous bands had been getting better and better? Damn hipsters. Probably think it’s not hip to stay for a whole show.

Still unclear why I had room to move, My Monster rocked the hardest, hands down. I could feel the floorboards flexing under my feet as the remaining fans jumped to the crunch of each song. Before they played, I thought they’d sound either like Lacuna Coil or The Pixies because 1) they had a female vocalist (the very intimidating Joyce “Statis” Kuo with a wicked shaved head), and 2) the lead singer looked a like Frank Black (big white guy sans hair as well). Neither assumption was true. They had their own rocking sound that was enough to shake 12 Galaxies to the foundation. Like all of the other bands, they only had the chance to play three songs, but their potential definitely shone through during their much too short performance.

Overall, an enjoyable night in one of the grimier parts of San Francisco. I left zigzagging down the sidewalk, a bit confused, and slightly deaf. Now that’s a good concert. - Powerslave.com