Melody makers

Colepitz find the ingredient to set them apart in this heavy world

by Chris Kanaracus

When the Portland, Maine-based metal foursome Colepitz formed in early 1998, they knew they'd need something special to stand out from today's metal pack.

It was something simple: melody. "Metal gets short shrift from [new listeners] . . . it's too heavy for them. But at the same time, there's always a need for something melancholy. People feel a lot of aggression," says Colepitz frontman Rob Egbert.

And Colepitz's self-titled debut (Wonderdrug) strikes the balance with energy and style. The album falls sharply to the left of metal's current fixation with rap and hip-hop. Instead, Colepitz, who appear this Friday at the Lucky Dog, mine the artier, more introspective turf of Tool and of the Deftones.

Yet, at least according to the band, the birth of their style was a casual, even accidental event. "Ray [Suhy, guitarist] and Mike had been jamming on some songs for a while, then Brian [Higgins, drums] and I came in and laid our stuff over the top."

Right away, says Egbert, he knew the group had something special. "I've been in a lot of bands. I've never been in one with such good communication and work ethic, though." Indeed. Though Colepitz's influences might be a little overt, this stuff clicks -- you'd think these four were seasoned road dogs, not a band who're barely a year old.

It's a sound that's created an immediate, solid buzz, one strongest in Portland, but it's slowly and steadily creeping south and westward. A fact not lost on Colepitz's label, Wonderdrug, which has them doing hard time on a club circuit stretching from Portland to Albany.

And the group have received glowing notices in the press, not only from Boston-area zines like the Noise, but also from trend-setting pubs like CMJ. Perhaps the most important coverage, though, say Colepitz, has come from the many interviews they've done with high-school and with college newspapers.

"You've got to do that kind of stuff. There's nothing we won't turn down as far as publicity goes. We pride ourselves on never missing an interview," says Egbert.

One suspects, though, that even if Colepitz weren't so publicity-hungry, their music would find its way to the masses. But it's not an immediate conclusion to draw. Colepitz opener, "Your Child" rides elegantly on a wall of spacey, flanged-out chug guitars; but the song's lyrics are inscrutable, the vocal melody a half-sour, grating wail.

Things pick up posthaste, with "Shatter," "Coltrane," "Whore," and "Disembodied," to name a few. Colepitz, like any respectable metal band, are eager to show off their ample chops: especially those of jazz-trained guitarist Ray Suhy, who moves from crunch riffs to modal scales with a liquid, connected ease. "Ray brings a whole new sensibility to the music," says Egbert. "He arranges all the stuff and forces us to work harder."

Egbert's impassioned vocals show off that work ethic. Not content to scream along with the rest of the genre, he pulls out a heated, airy baritone-- seemingly at will -- lending otherwise guttural tracks like "Whore" and "6-70" a welcome, distinctly human edge. It's a sound that many heavy acts strive for, but one that often ends up buried under the weight of the music's form.

"People often come up and tell me that they were moved by something in the lyrics, or just by the music. But when they ask [us] to explain, I shy away from that. I'd rather let the words speak for themselves," says Egbert. His sentiment certainly isn't original -- after all, how many poet-cum-rock-singers haven't spouted that tired disclaimer before?

In this case, Egbert gives listeners good advice. Blunt song titles aside, lyrically, Colepitz traverse a twisty course between the literal and abstract. When coupled with music that is familiarly heavy and melodically inventive, their material forms a gestalt -- an instance where the sum of the parts creates something greater than the whole. Some albums begin, run through a series of songs, and end. Others, like Colepitz, create a mood that promises great reward for complete, careful listening. They are one new metal band who're worth the cost of earplugs.

Colepitz perform on March 10 at the Lucky Dog Music Hall. Call 363-1888.