Mariachi El What? The Bronx and 6 other bands with alter-egos

Some musicians can’t help but wildly experiment with their own sound and image, but too much deviation can lead down a wayward and unpopular path. Just look at Xtina: One day you’re the virginal tween, the next you’re wearing assless chaps and kissing Britney Spears and everybody hates you. Some artists have sidestepped the eye-rolling and fan fallout with a simple trick that allows for much more creative leeway: adopting an alter ego. In honor of The Bronx and its alter ego Mariachi El Bronx playing this Thursday at the Subterranean, The A.V. Club examines other acts that have to turned their own experiments into artistic endeavors, and whether it was worth the trouble.

Alter ego: Goat Punishment, for Weezer 
Rationale: Formed in November 1998, Goat Punishment was initially no more than a local Nirvana tribute band. Covering Bleach-era tracks at one gig and Oasis tunes at another, the moniker allowed Weezer to play a few secretive, sparsely attended shows, away from the monotony of regular performances. After keeping the band's actual identity under wraps, savvy fans caught on and showed up to subsequent gigs in droves.
Should they pursue the identity further? Nah. While the Goat Punishment name is obsolete, frontman Rivers Cuomo has a penchant for identity-bending stunts (covering "One Of Us" with Rainn Wilson, collaborating with Lil Wayne, wearing cowboys hats on album covers), which doesn't rule out another alter ego—perhaps a persona tied to their new Snuggie attire?

Alter ego: Chris Gaines, for Garth Brooks
Rationale: It’s lonely at the country-music top when all that keeps you company is your Texas toupee and your acoustic. By 1999, Garth Brooks had enjoyed a decade of being a hugely successful country star by any measure, and understandably was looking for a project to shake things up. The forehead-crinkling Chris Gaines alter ego and its corresponding album and planned biopic certainly offered a number of ways to try something new. Ditching his usual wardrobe for a soul patch, wig, and moody black pants and shirts, Chris Gaines was as a fictional rock singer with the requisite emotional baggage—documented in an intentionally misleading Behind The Music episode acting as though Gaines wasn’t Brooks—but the music and singing are both far too poppy to be considered even lite-rock.
Should they pursue the identity further? Why the hell not? It’s been more than 10 years since we last saw Gaines, so that should’ve been plenty of time for Brooks to fabricate more of his alter ego’s made-up history. Although Brooks was obviously Gaines’ biggest fan—it memorably failed to drum up as much fervor as marketers hoped—it’s among the most interesting career moves Brooks has ever made.

Alter ego: Metalhead Pat Boone, for Pat Boone
Rationale: Since 1956, if anyone personified milktoast crooning and general old-person-pleasing songs, it was Pat Boone. Exuding wholesomeness for four decades straight must’ve either made Boone restless or bored, but for whatever reason in 1997 he released a tongue-in-cheek album rendering 12 big-band renditions of metal songs like “Crazy Train” on In A Metal Mood: No More Mr. Nice Guy, memorably appearing on the American Music Awards in leather, temporary tattoos, and a dog collar. Although the whole thing was just a silly publicity stunt that may seem pointless in 2010, much of his Christian audience didn’t find it funny: He was booted from hosting his show Gospel America on the Trinity Broadcasting Network. The network later reinstated him, but the move confirms that the church has little, if any sense of humor about itself.
Should they pursue the identity further? No. Although Boone was hardly the first singer to play with their public perception, this one is arguably the most offensive: It set the precedent for other, much more annoying acts with the same gimmick, like Richard Cheese.

Alter ego: Reggie And The Full Effect, for The Get Up Kids
Rationale: To be perfectly clear, Reggie And The Full Effect was technically a Get Up Kids side project led by the band's keyboardist James Dewees, who also made guest appearances on Reggie albums under the names Fluxuation (a British techno-popper) and Common Denominator (a Finnish metal band). In practice, this amounted to shows with all The Get Up Kids grabbing the wrong instruments and bad-mouthing the headliners: The Get Up Kids. Reggie And The Full Effect were cocky and cheeky where The Get Up Kids were lovelorn and prone to sappiness, with Dewees penning diabolical earworms with snarky titles ("Fiona Apple Kiss My Black Ass," "Pick Up The Phone Master P," "Good Times, Good Tunes, Good Buds"). That is until 2005's horribly misguided Songs Not To Get Married To, which added cringeworthy, non-ironic screamo to the mix. The album chronicled Dewees' painful divorce and coincided with his growing weariness with being "the funny guy" all the time. Although he had legitimate hardcore cachet from his days in Coalesce, Songs and its 2008 follow-up, Last Stop: Crappy Town, showed that energy was best put elsewhere.
Should they pursue the identity further? That depends on Dewees' mental state these days. Happy? Then go for it. With the new Get Up Kids EP, Simple Science, dropping next month, the time is ripe for some Reggie goofiness. But if bitterness is still driving Dewees, we'll just go listen to Greatest Hits: 1984-1987 again.

Alter ego: The Dukes Of Stratosphear, for XTC
Rationale: Judging by the countless collections of demos and rarities he’s released in the past decade, it seems Andy Partridge writes more songs than he knows what to do with. Back in his band’s heyday, there were enough to fuel a whole other group. XTC’s 1986 classic, Skylarking, was clearly shaped by '60s influences, but on the two Dukes albums released on either side of it, 25 O’Clock and Psonic Psunspot, the musicians dove headfirst into a psychedelic freakout, goofing on early Pink Floyd, Nuggets, and drone rock. It was also an excuse to wear paisley and use pseudonyms like The Red Curtain and Lord Cornelius Plum.
Should they pursue the identity further? Although Partridge and his co-songwriter Colin Moulding are certainly capable of cranking out another batch of trippy, pitch-perfect mind-benders, a Dukes Of Stratosphear revival probably isn’t a priority, considering that XTC hasn’t released a new album in 10 years. But as long as those guys keep unearthing old, unreleased songs, who needs new ones?

Alter ego: Ciccone Youth, for Sonic Youth
Rationale: There is none. Sonic Youth needs no reasoning; it’s always done what it wanted, when it wanted. Featuring most of the Youth plus Minutemen bassist Mike Watt, Ciccone Youth formed in 1986 in New York. Its moniker was a slight homage to Madonna’s surname, although the act had little to do with Madge herself, excepting the singular sort-of cover “Into The Groove(y).” (The track was far removed from the original, a muddled guitar song with a thumping bass and a rough sample of Madonna’s voice.) Ciccone Youth never played any shows, although it did produce a three-song EP and the full-length The Whitey Album. And though Watt barely participated on the latter, he credits his time with Ciccone Youth to have been hugely influential in his post-Minutemen life. “The band was critical for me, because it was right after [Minutemen singer-guitarist] D. Boon’s death,” Watt writes on his website, “and the project really motivated me to get back into music.”
Should they pursue the identity further?: Sure. Ciccone Youth was originally rumored to be a Beatles cover band—The Whitey Album was named in part for the aborted mission—and that still seems like a pretty viable idea, just as long as they can keep up the karaoke-booth recordings and all subtext on the blown-out banality of pop-music.

Alter ego: Mariachi El Bronx, for The Bronx
Rationale: Growing up in Los Angeles, entrenched in Mexican culture, hardcore punks The Bronx developed a natural appreciation for traditional mariachi. The not-so-subtly named Mariachi El Bronx (and the eponymous 2009 full-length) is pretty much The Bronx in spirit, but with a lot more horns and the members wearing festive, embellished outfits. Lovelorn ballads fill out El Bronx’s live set, which has included extra players and the occasional cover of Prince’s “I Would Die For You.”
Should they pursue the identity further?: Since the release of the well-received El Bronx, the guys have been routinely pulling double-duty on tour with El Bronx opening for The Bronx—and to great results. It’s pretty rare for an alter ego to actually complement the original band, and this may be the least gimmicky of all of them.