Carry nation

Learning to start from Zero

by John O'Neill

Having just finished their first Worcester show, the boys from Carry the Zero are hunkered down in the basement of the Lucky Dog's green room -- which, though painted green, is not to be confused with the hospitality suites featured on TV. There is no post-gig reception party; in fact, there are no free beer, no complimentary deli tray, not even a chair that could be considered relatively plush. There are just three guys, a wood bench, and the sweaty self-satisfaction that comes from playing in front of a live audience. Because, when you're slated to go on first, and 90 percent of the crowd has no clue who the hell you are, you don't get little extras. Of course, it isn't about the money. There isn't any. It all comes down to that internal buzz that results from knowing you put out and, thankfully, people responded. Carry the Zero have to be reeling as they suck on their bottles of beer and reflect: the crowd dug the set; the other bands dug the set; and, after three years of practicing in a basement and wondering how it would go down when they debuted, they now have answers.

"We've been through 22 different line-ups and a bunch of name changes. We tried using samplers, had girls for singers. . . . We just didn't know what we wanted to be," says guitarist Matt Erhartic, best known to locals as a member of wonder-punks Gas Food Lodging.

"It's funny," adds drummer Bill Gaudette, "every time we had a set [down] something got fucked up and somebody wouldn't want to do it. Finally, we found the right combination. We could have played out five years ago, but I think it's good that we waited."

Waiting has been the name of the game for both Gaudette and for bassist/organ player Ed Paquette who've been carrying around -- for most of their lives -- the germ of what would become their first rock-and-roll band. Beginning in the fifth grade with after-school jam sessions (when Paquette owned a Casio keyboard complete with drum machine, and Gaudette was bashing his first, long-forgotten cheapo trap kit), the two eventually converted a grandmother's basement into a rehearsal space, and then waited for the right moment.

Meanwhile, across town at the Espresso Bar, a teenage Erhartic was making a name for himself as the guitarist/songwriter for Gas Food Lodging, the first of Wormtown's post-Dookie-inspired pop-punk bands. Local faves and critical darlings, GFL and Erhartic fell out; Erhartic dropped off the map in favor of school and a brief stint at RCA Records. But one day, he answered an ad for a Shrewsbury-based duo seeking a guitarist; and -- presto! -- Erhartic became the cement for Paquette and Gaudette's dream. They then spent the next three years festering in that dingy basement, trying to figure out how they would fit in.

"We're kinda dirty. We aren't that clean or polished," says Erhartic of the band's sound. "But it's not like we'll turn people away. It's pretty much like '60s rock and roll."

And though their true-to-the-original cover of the Zombies' "Tell Her No" and the unfortunately tilted Motown-via-Garageland stomper "Gagggin' for a Shaggin'" owe much to sixties-pop instrumentation, Carry the Zero's work owes more to new wave, indie-rock, and mid-tempo Boston rock. "We'll Get By" snakes from college-radio-ready pop to a flat-out jam session, and back again; "Running on Empty," a nine-to-five ode, mines the same chugging/emotional vocal territory as the Sheila Devine's. It's white-boy soul for an alterna-world, if your idea of soulful is Nick Heywood or Neil Finn. The tougher "Forever and a Day," a highlight of the live show, pulls a classic musical tuck-and-run with the band sprinting for the end of the song before finally stumbling to a stop. "What I Came For" marries the happy new wave of the Cars to the Boomtown Rats and Joe Jackson. Throughout their nine-song set there are moments so bland as balogna on white with mayo, but, just as important, when the songs are headed into tepid territory, the band are bailed out by a killer guitar riff, a signature change, or a well-placed hook. Though they spend a lot of time cruising CMJ-charted waters, they're also pulling some decent pop-punches of their own. The only tomato-tosser is an ill-advised stab of Warren Zevon's "Werewolves of London," and even that is a nod to a stellar songwriter (despite the fact the tune should never be played again by anyone -- including Zevon). All things being equal, a band have to start somewhere, and Carry the Zero have a solid foundation on which to draw. The dual vocals are sweet, the guitar playing is solid, and the rhythm section drives the band along efficiently. And, with only three gigs under their belt and a well-documented penchant for working things out in the rehearsal space, the band's upside is more likely terrific than terrible. After all, though they admit to being three years old, they're still new in clubland's eyes; and they have a lot of growing left to do.

"It's still a work in progress. It's still new," agrees Erhartic. While the crowd on this recent night liked their set, the group, it turns out, are only mildly thrilled. "We developed our sound downstairs by ourselves rather than in front of a crowd. We're still looking for input. We've been in the basement for so long that we haven't had a chance to hear [from people] what sucks. I'm just looking forward to rocking -- going out and playing New York and Providence and getting paid eighteen bucks!

"We wanna be the reigning kings of Worcester rock . . . but don't quote me on that!"