How does a band know they're doing something right? When the American Red Cross offers them the headlining slot on an anti-smoking concert, knowing full-damn well that five of their six members smoke. Crossbreed embraced the invitation with a dark sense of humor, but the concert planners weren't amused when the band took the stage, pulling the plug on their set and accusing them of starting a riot. "They knew what they were getting, but they asked us to play anyway," says bassist Charlie Parker, amused that the small Florida community of Newport Richie could expect any less from Crossbreed, a band born of industrial fury, metallic rage, and rock 'n' roll bombast.
But as the American music scene spirals into the 21st Century, it's not the slamming amalgamation of techno pulses, grinding guitars and thunderous bottom ends that differentiate Crossbreed from their industrial-metal brethren. No, to that end, it doesn't take a musical scholar to link their heritage to Ministry, Nine Inch Nails, and the more metal-minded White Zombie. Rather, Crossbreed rise above their contemporaries with songwriting that soars to melodic heights, drops to demonic lows, and fills the spaces in between with vocals that dissect the music, shifting gears from trance-inducing to hell-raising.
On debut release Synthetic Division (produced by Matt Chiaravalle), techno-industrial beats propel songs like "Breathe," a jarring jolt of adrenaline that slams full-throttle into the blitzkrieg of "Concentrate." Dynamics fuel Crossbreed, and whether they're ebbing with the rhythmic bounce of "Lost Soul," or slamming to the brutal sway of "Machines," the songs survive the sonic assault, making the listening experience all the more memorable. Perhaps nowhere is this more apparent than in "Painted Red," a song that bleeds the dark charisma of Depeche Mode with the fevered pitch of Marilyn Manson, a seamless union that Crossbreed make look easy.
Raised on the early days of MTV, showmanship was something Crossbreed knew from the get go, performing their first show in '96, but gradually shifting their lineup before finalizing their present outfit in '99-frontman James Rietz, guitarist Chris Nemzek, bassist Parker, drummer Travis Simpkins, and keyboardists Flip and DJ Izzo. Ironically, for a band known as much for their live performances as their music-it was a broken Glo-Stick that provided the initial springboard for
Crossbreed's creepy onstage persona. That, and an affinity for pop-culture's flamboyant side. "All it took was one of us having a broken Glo-Stick," recalls Rietz. "We were rubbing it all over everything at a show and we realized that we glowed in the dark-Izzo made the blacklights, and it evolved from there."
That image-as mysterious and futuristic as it is dark and primitive-is the perfect counterpart for a sound that ignores the rap-core fad that has spread faster than Creed bootlegs in Sunday school, enabling Crossbreed to carve a niche for themselves in hometown Tampa and throughout central Florida. "For Crossbreed, our guide has been watching what other bands have done wrong," continues the frontman. "We wanted to do something to stand out more from the rest of the bands in a dying scene, and we wanted the look to go with our sound. That helped create a buzz that we were able to do something with."
The buzz spread like a wildfire, intensified by live shows that erupted into events local fans would wait weeks for. It was one of those shows-a radio show hosted by Tampa's WXTB in early 2000-that landed a Crossbreed demo in the hands of Kittie, who brought the tape to the attention of their label Artemis Records. They signed a deal soon after, spending the latter part of the year holed up in a New York City studio where they wrote and recorded the songs that would become Synthetic Division.
While it's impossible not to get caught in the rush of "Pure Energy," Some of the album's more poignant moments include the tormented anguish of "Regretful Times," the vulnerable angst of "Release Me," the spiritual depth charge of "Stem," and the traumatic purging of the album's first single "Underlined." But Crossbreed's true magic is experienced when their music and vocals intersect, the soul-stripping lyrics plunging from the jagged peaks that pierce their music. The results offer a sensory overload that stakes a musical claim to the new millennium.
What is it about the Sunshine State that leads to such inspired musical depravity? "A hatred for old people," snickers Nemzek. "It's like a death camp down here..."
Florida may be a death camp, but it's spawned some of the most compelling artists in modern music, and Crossbreed appear to be the latest. "Locally, there hasn't been much of a music scene in Tampa for as long as we've existed, but we've helped create a scene here again," the guitarist continues. "Now it's time to take it nationally."
James Rietz(vocals) Chris Nemzek (guitars) Charlie Parker (bass) Travis Simpkins (drums) Flip (keyboards) DJ Izzo (keyboards)
