This week in Staff Picks, TV Editor Tim Lowery lauds The Ponys’ Nathan Jerde and Staff Writer William Hughes goes along for the ride when Mike Duncan’s Revolutions swerves into fiction.
One of my favorite drummers to watch back in the day—and by that, I specifically mean 2007 to 2010—was Nathan Jerde of The Ponys. Jerde passed away in May, prompting a few texts with friends and a lot of memories from that period in my life, of seeing the Chicago garage-rock outfit play that city’s best venue, the Empty Bottle, on Halloween, all dressed as pro wrestlers (and surrounded by bright tape fashioned to look like the ropes of a ring); hit a big stage on a lovely summer day at the Pitchfork Music Festival in Union Park (following Deerhunter, if I’m not mistaken); and then perform in Brooklyn shortly after I had moved to there and was and feeling a tad homesick.
Jerde had a way of keeping his head down a lot as he played, popping it up, his hair slicked with sweat, every so often—during less busy or fill-heavy parts, say, or when the band was kicking into a new song. He always looked in the zone and was one of those drummers from that era (like The Walkmen‘s Matt Barrick) that was just so infectious and fun to witness, the kind that made you want to give the instrument a go. He was also a key, propulsive ingredient to a truly great band that also included frontman-guitarist Jered Gummere, bassist Melissa Elias, and guitarist Ian Adams (who was replaced by Brian Case, the future leader of Disappears, when he left).
The Ponys came out with some killer seven inches and three LPs: Laced With Romance, the most exciting sounding and punchy of the bunch; Celebration Castle, an occasionally moodier but still frenetic release that was recorded by Steve Albini in four days; and Turn The Lights Out, which marked the band’s move from the fantastic garage-rock label In The Red to indie stalwart Matador and feels a bit wider in scope, with a few new tricks thrown in.
Honestly, if you don’t know this band and would like to hear what made their alchemy special, just play these records all the way through. But if I had to pick a track from each album that highlights Jerde’s skills, I’d go with (in chronological order): “Little Friends” (those snare hits!), “Shadow Box” (those returns to the hi-hat!), “Small Talk” (that beat that helps keep a four-minute-plus song that’s only three chords from ever getting boring!). But my favorite drumming from him—and my favorite Ponys song, period—isn’t on any of their LPs: “I Wanna Fuck You” (the narrative is sweeter than the title implies), which you can listen to above. I love the drum fills on this track—and go back to it often.
In May, the outfit wrote the following to break the sad news: “Nathan was an amazing drummer and possessed savant-like art skills. Nathan loved goofing around and had the sweetest of hearts. We traveled the world together. We ate amazing meals together and we met lifelong friends together. We fought like brothers sometimes, but we had so much fucking fun together. Nathan, we will miss you so much!” R.I.P.
William Hughes: Mike Duncan’s “The Martian Revolution”
I’ll confess to being extremely skeptical when Mike Duncan—creator, writer, and star of my favorite history podcast, Revolutions—announced that he was taking the show into the world of speculative fiction. After all, part of what I love about Duncan’s work is the way he blends the relatable and the reliable; he’d be the first to encourage his listeners to check their own sources, and draw their own conclusions, about the tumultuous, highly contested arcs of history that he covers in long-form, entertaining, only occasionally depressing detail. (Ranging from the English Revolution of the 1640s through the Russian Revolution of the 20th century; if you, like me, were only familiar with the French Revolution as a series of cultural signifiers—or of the Haitian Revolution as a name and not much else—you could have much worse primers than Duncan’s highly approachable, meticulously researched prose.) I trust Duncan, as both a historian and a storyteller. Hearing that he was taking the show into the realm of fiction, with a season covering a fictitious political revolution on Mars, though? It worried me enough that I spent months putting the new season of the show off.
So it is with the zeal of the fresh convert that I arrive here to tell you Duncan’s “The Martian Revolution”—which he has now completed, having delivered it serially from October of last year up through this recent June—is some of my favorite “historical” fiction I’ve imbibed in some time. Drawing on years of researching the ways humanity tends to blow up its own political orders—and, perhaps, pulling from just a smidge of other influences—Duncan crafts a story about distant colonists going into revolt against an oppressive Earth regime that feels genuinely authentic to the currents of history. (Also: Exciting, funny, and sad. Pour one out for Mabel Dore.) Once I got over my reservations and began to binge, I got caught up on “The Martian Revolution” quickly—and then got to enjoy each week of cliffhangers as Duncan, surprisingly great at delivering a deadpan, slightly fictionalized version of his regular authorial voice, spooled out his story with the same attention to detail he’d previously devoted to actual facts. It’s kind of shocking how easy the show was to accept as semi-fact, even discounting occasional meta flourishes. (Duncan is quick to handwave that his entire narrative hinges on Mars producing a scientifically insane super-fuel that makes its continual mining absolutely vital to human society—just one of many ways the show adapts well-observed historical forces to the stars.) And the whole thing is shot through with the same slightly weary irony that has made Revolutions regular listening for me for years: An acknowledgement that we do these things to ourselves—and likely will continue to, from now into the far future.
