Far beyond the expansive reach of music’s mighty grasp exists a platform for creative expression’s evil twin – a vast and barren proverbial wasteland where the clutter of conformity goes to unravel and the meagerly defined vow to repent. In this mire of unadulterated and unfiltered muck, lies the foundation for the purest of visionaries, and most savage of souls.
It’s there you’ll find “Richardson” Richardson, the unabashed, self-proclaimed “Kings of Butt-Rock.” Belting lyrics about pro wrestling and Pokemon above the din of two beef-laden bass guitars and one spastic drum machine lovingly named Reggie, the DeKalb, IL-based duo blends equal parts of punk and metal, tossed in a sauce of satirical wit and sardonic charm.
From their humble beginnings in 2008, the method used was clear and concise – “keep it simple.” And they have done just that. Rarely does a song climb over the two-minute mark, disallowing the rinse, wash, repeat method resonant of typical punk song formatting. The tracks are brash, quick, and to the point – a refreshing style catering to the attention span of the wandering ear.
Their pummel-with-noise, ask-for-applause-never mentality lends to a blitzkrieg of a live show. The focus wraps around rapid blast beats and metal-esque riffs, peppered with signature breakdowns and head-nodders, without schmoozing their listeners for approval or self-praising their egos with storytime narcissism.
This stand against the rockstar persona and the corresponding egotistic manner allows them to delve into their own definition of what a rock band emulates. They possess a self-deprecating, roguish mentality that envelops a light-hearted, fun-as-a-first-priority, check all bullshit at the door type atmosphere that is not only infectious, but invigorating.
Lead vocalist and backing bassist Tony Martin’s savvy approach to ring-leading through sets is audacious and droll, diminishing the barrier between performer and crowd while inciting engagement throughout. Songwriter and lead bassist Jason Kedsch massages his five-strings with savant panache, adding dense, fuzz-soaked layers to Martin’s train-chugging rhythm. Their sports and scathing subculture-heavy lyrics are crass and unapologetic – a running theme to embody the band’s core essence.
Yet somehow, in all the facetious defiance of the band’s outward demeanor, they execute an evenly serious and direct approach to their craft. They are dedicated in their roles as entertainers, and stop at no cost to leave the an intriguing impression on their audiences, with a constant insurgence of new vibrant material and entirely fresh set surprises.
Artists come and go and trends bloom and die every day, but if there’s one mainstay in the constant evolution of music, it’s that a beautifully-twisted entity like “Richardson” Richardson serves as a rock for which to stand upon.
Evidence of their butt-rockingly raucous live display in all its painstaking glory takes place Friday, August 28th at The House Cafe in DeKalb.